Kitap 3
Tho' art assists, yet must that art be hid,
Lest whom it would invite it should forbid.
Who would not take offence to see a face
270
All daub'd and dripping with the melted grease?
And tho' your unguents bear th' Athenian name,
The wool's unsav'ry scent is still the same.
Marrow of stags, nor your pomatums try,
Nor clean your furry teeth when men are by;
275
For many things, when done, afford delight,
Which yet, while doing, may offend the sight.
E'en Myro's statues, which for art surpass
All others, once were but a shapeless mass;
Rude was that gold which now in rings is worn,
280
As once the robe you wear was wool unshorn;
Think, how that stone rough in the quarry grew,
Which now a perfect Venus shews to view.It is thought he means that Venus of which Pliny speaks, and which was in Octavia's portico in the temple of Jupiter. She is described as rising out of the sea with her hair still wet; such as Apelles painted her.
While we suppose you sleep, repair your face,
Lock'd from observers, in some secret place;
285
Add the last hand before yourselves you show,
Your need of art why should your lover know?
