OLD LADY. Do you call this painting?
BOSOLA. No, no, but you call [it] careening<34> of an old
morphewed<35> lady, to make her disembogue<36> again:
there 's rough-cast phrase to your plastic.<37>
OLD LADY. It seems you are well acquainted with my closet.
BOSOLA. One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, to find in it
the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews' spittle, and their young
children's ordure; and all these for the face. I would sooner eat
a dead pigeon taken from the soles of the feet of one sick of the
plague, than kiss one of you fasting. Here are two of you, whose sin
of your youth is the very patrimony of the physician; makes him renew
his foot-cloth with the spring, and change his high-pric'd courtezan
with the fall of the leaf. I do wonder you do not loathe yourselves.
Observe my meditation now.
What thing is in this outward form of man
To be belov'd? We account it ominous,
If nature do produce a colt, or lamb,
A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling
A man, and fly from 't as a prodigy:
Man stands amaz'd to see his deformity
In any other creature but himself.
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