His ——‘s a host, we’ll bundle that in!
And, still should all these masses fail
To stir the R—g—t’s ponderous scale,
Why then, my Lord, in heaven’s name,
Pitch in, without reserve or stint,
The whole of R—g—ly’s beauteous dame—
If that won’t raise him, devil’s in’t.
But we stop here, or we shall quote the whole work. We like the political part of this jeu d’esprit better, on the whole, than the merely comic and familiar. Bob Fudge is almost too suffocating a coxcomb, even in description, with his stays and patés; and Miss Biddy Fudge, with her poke bonnet and her princely lover, who turned out to be no better than a man-milliner, is not half so interesting as a certain Marchioness in the Twopenny Post Bag, with curls ‘in the manner of Ackermann’s dresses for May, and her yellow charioteer.’ Besides, Miss Biddy’s amour ends in nothing. In short, the Fudges abroad are not such fat subjects for ridicule as the Fudges at home. ‘They do not cut up so well in the cawl; they do not tallow so in the kidneys:’ but as far as they go, Mr. Brown, Junior, uses the dissecting knife with equal dexterity, and equally to the delight and edification of the byestanders.
CHARACTER OF LORD CHATHAM
1807.