Apel. Then had men fewer fancies and women not so many favours.[889] For now, if the haire of her eyebrowes be blacke, yet must the haire of her head be yellow;[890] the attire of her head must bee different from the habit of her bodie, else would the picture seeme like the blazon of ancient armory,[891] not like the sweet delight 95 of new-found amiablenesse.[892] For, as in garden knots[893] diversitie of odours make a more sweete savour, or as in musique divers strings cause a more delicate consent,[894] so, in painting, the more colours, the better counterfeit,—observing black for a ground, and the rest for grace. 100
Alex. Lend me thy pensill, Apelles; I will paint, and thou shalt judge.
Apel. Here.
Alex. The coale[895] breakes.
Apel. You leane too hard. 105
Alex. Now it blackes not.
Apel. You leane too soft.
Alex. This is awrie.
Apel. Your eye goeth not with your hand.
Alex. Now it is worse. 110