Not sure how I arrived at this topic — a young sculptor must create a favorable likeness of an overweight king — but I’m glad I did. I’ve always loved the opening line: “O’er the marble, his wedge doth wend.” 

O’er the marble his wedge doth wend, 
    Scudding by the force of his mallet; 
‘Round his blade his fingers doth bend — 
(Calloused the grip of an artisan’s hands, 
    Who eschews the oils of the palette.) 
 
On this semblance keyed for the throne, 
    Set asunder by his Master, 
Slaveth he for fairness in stone — 
(Concealed the King’s unflatt’ring folds, 
    Encased in a tunic of white alabaster.)