Chapter Thumb to Tibbs of T by Brewer's Readers Handbook

looks were pale, thin, and sharp; round his neck he wore a broad black ribbon, and in his bosom a glass pin; his coat was trimmed with tarnished lace; and his stockings were silk. Beau Tibbs interlarded his rapid talk with fashionable oaths, such as, “Upon my soul! egad!” “I was asked to dine yesterday,” he says, “at the duchess of Piccadilly’s. My lord Mudler was there. ‘Ned,’ said he, ‘I’ll hold gold to silver I can tell you where you were poaching last night … I hope, Ned, it will improve your fortune.’ ‘Fortune, my lord? five hundred a year at least—great secret—let it go no further.’ My lord took me down in his chariot to his country seat yesterday, and we had a téte-à-tête dinner in the country.” “I fancy you told us just now you dined yesterday at the duchess’s in town.” “Did I so?” replied he coolly. “To be sure, egad! now I do remember—yes, I had two dinners yesterday.”—Letter liv.

Mrs. Tibbs, wife of the beau, a slattern and a coquette, much emaciated, but with the remains of a good- looking woman. She made twenty apologies for being in dishabille; but had been out all night with the countess. Then, turning to her husband, she added, “And his lordship, my dear, drank your health in a bumper.” Ned then asked his wife if she had given orders for dinner. “You need make no great preparation—only we three. My lord cannot join us to-day—something small and elegant will do, such as a turbot, an ortolan, a—”

“Or,” said Mrs. Tibbs, “what do you think, my dear, of a nice bit of ox-cheek, dressed with a little of my own sauce?” “The very thing,” he replies; “it will eat well with a little beer. His grace was very fond of it, and I hate the vulgarity of a great load of dishes.” The citizen of the world now thought it time to decamp, and took his leave, Mrs. Tibbs assuring him that dinner would certainly be quite ready in two or three hours.—Letter lv.

Mrs. Tibbs’s lady’s-maid, a vulgar, brawny Scotchwoman. “Where’s my lady?” said Tibbs, when he brought to his garret his excellency the ambassador of China. “She’s a-washing your twa shirts at the next door, because they won’t lend us the tub any longer.”—Goldsmith: A Citizen of the World (1759).