And I take parties in their most varied sense—from the small flatteries of the evening party to the coarser acclamation of the club where he takes the chair—from the literary party, who make him an idol, to the political, who make him their tool."
"I have been lately," said Mr. Morland, "hearing the detail of his sitting for his picture: first, he was sketched in a Vandyke dress—then in a Spanish costume—he had some thoughts of a turban—when a friend observed, that, for the credit of the age he had immortalised, he ought to be apparelled after its fashion. He tried on forty-seven waistcoats, and at last decided on a cloak. One day the artist's attention was attracted by a little china jar which he held in his hand; the poet was more than usually restless; at last, after an earnest gaze on the sketch, and then on the mirror, he said, 'My dear young friend, intense study has done the work of years, and many a midnight vigil has paled the fresh colours of youth. You are painting for posterity.
'One would not, sure, look shocking when one's dead'—
and, uncovering the little pot of rouge, he arranged his complexion to his liking."
