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Dreams, Waking Thoughts, and Incidents by William Beckford
page 19 of 270 (07%)

June 30th.

I dedicated the morning to the Prince of Orange's cabinet of
paintings and curiosities both natural and artificial. Amongst the
pictures which amused me the most is a St. Anthony, by Hell-fire
Brughel, who has shown himself right worthy of the title; for a more
diabolical variety of imps never entered the human imagination.
Brughel has made his saint take refuge in a ditch filled with harpies
and creeping things innumerable, whose malice, one should think,
would have lost Job himself the reputation of patience. Castles of
steel and fiery turrets glare on every side, from whence issue a band
of junior devils. These seem highly entertained with pinking poor
St. Anthony, and whispering, I warrant ye, filthy tales in his ear.
Nothing can be more rueful than the patient's countenance; more
forlorn than his beard; more pious than his eye, which forms a strong
contrast to the pert winks and insidious glances of his persecutors;
some of whom; I need not mention, are evidently of the female kind.

But really I am quite ashamed of having detained you in such bad
company so long; and, had I a moment to spare, you should be
introduced to a better set in this gallery, where some of the most
exquisite Berghems and Wouvermans I ever beheld would delight you for
hours. I do not think you would look much at the Polemburgs; there
are but two, and one of them is very far from capital; in short I am
in a great hurry; so pardon me, Carlo Cignani! if I don't do justice
to your merit; and excuse me, Potter! if I pass by your herds without
leaving a tribute of admiration.

Mynheer Van Something is as eager to precipitate my motions as I was
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