‘Why, no, madam, no,’ answered he, ‘I am not yet well; I could not sleep at all; there I lay, restless and uneasy, and thinking all the time of Miss Burney. Perhaps I have offended her, thought I; perhaps she is angry; I have seen her but once, and I talked to her of a rasher!—Were you angry?’
I think I need not tell you my answer.
‘I have been endeavouring to find some excuse,’ continued he, ‘and, as I could not sleep, I got up, and looked for some authority for the word; and I find, madam, it is used by Dryden: in one of his prologues he says—“And snatch a homely rasher from the coals.” So you must not mind me, madam; I say strange things, but I mean no harm.’
I was almost afraid he thought I was really idiot enough to have taken him seriously; but, a few minutes after, he put his hand on my arm, and shaking his head, exclaimed:
‘Oh, you are a sly little rogue!—what a Holborn beau have you drawn!’
‘Ay, Miss Burney,’ said Mrs. Thrale, ‘the Holborn beau is Dr. Johnson’s favourite; and we have all your characters by heart, from Mr. Smith up to Lady Louisa.’
‘Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith is the man!’ cried he, laughing violently. ‘Harry Fielding never drew so good a character!—such a fine varnish of low politeness!—such a struggle to appear a gentleman! Madam, there is no character better drawn anywhere—in any book, or by any author.’
I almost poked myself under the table. Never did I feel so delicious a confusion since I was born! But he added a great deal more, only I cannot recollect his exact words, and I do not choose to give him mine.
‘Come, come,’ cried Mrs. Thrale, ‘we’ll torment her no more about her book, for I see it really plagues her. I own I thought for awhile it was only affectation, for I’m sure if the book were mine I should wish to hear of nothing else. But we shall teach her in time how proud she ought to be of such a performance.’
‘Ah, madam,’ cried the Doctor, ‘be in no haste to teach her that; she’ll speak no more to us when she knows her own weight.’...