And what costume shall the poor girl wear / To all tomorrow's parties? / A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
The painter's last opus was a dedication to all things living, in a surprising contrast to all of his prior work.
His intentions were apparently as antisplenetic as Sterne's, though his book turned out to be more genial than mirthful, and therefore decidedly less efficacious in fighting the spleen.
He takes all, the free-givers, ay, and the rogues close-fisted, the fast-handed gold-hiders.
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