The third Artist that I looked over was FANTASQUE, dressed like a Venetian Scaramouch.  He had an excellent Hand at a Chimera, and dealt very much in Distortions and Grimaces:  He would sometimes affright himself with the Phantoms that flowed from his Pencil.  In short, the most elaborate of his Pieces was at best but a terrifying Dream; and one could say nothing more of his finest Figures, than that they were agreeable Monsters.

The fourth Person I examined was very remarkable for his hasty Hand, which left his Pictures so unfinished, that the Beauty in the Picture (which was designed to continue as a monument of it to Posterity) faded sooner than in the Person after whom it was drawn.  He made so much haste to dispatch his Business, that he neither gave himself time to clean his Pencils, [nor [1]] mix his Colours.  The Name of this expeditious Workman was AVARICE.

Not far from this Artist I saw another of a quite different Nature, who was dressed in the Habit of a Dutchman, and known by the Name of INDUSTRY.  His Figures were wonderfully laboured; If he drew the Portraiture of a man, he did not omit a single Hair in his Face; if the Figure of a Ship, there was not a Rope among the Tackle that escaped him.  He had likewise hung a great Part of the Wall with Night-pieces, that seemed to shew themselves by the Candles which were lighted up in several Parts of them; and were so inflamed by the Sun-shine which accidentally fell upon them, that at first sight I could scarce forbear crying out, Fire.

The five foregoing Artists were the most considerable on this Side the Gallery; there were indeed several others whom I had not time to look into.  One of them, however, I could not forbear observing, who was very busie in retouching the finest Pieces, tho’ he produced no Originals of his own.  His Pencil aggravated every Feature that was before over-charged, loaded every Defect, and poisoned every Colour it touched.  Though this workman did so much Mischief on the Side of the Living, he never turned his Eye towards that of the Dead.  His Name was ENVY.

Having taken a cursory View of one Side of the Gallery, I turned my self to that which was filled by the Works of those great Masters that were dead; when immediately I fancied my self standing before a Multitude of Spectators, and thousands of Eyes looking upon me at once; for all before me appeared so like Men and Women, that I almost forgot they were Pictures. Raphael’s Figures stood in one Row, Titian’s in another, Guido Rheni’s in a third.  One Part of the Wall was peopled by Hannibal Carrache, another by Correggio, and another by Rubens.  To be short, there was not a great Master among the Dead who had not contributed to the Embellishment of this Side of the Gallery.  The Persons that owed their Being to these several Masters, appeared all of them to be real and alive, and differed among one another only in the Variety of their Shapes, Complexions, and Cloaths; so that they looked like different Nations of the same Species.