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By the fireplace, lolling in one of the carven oak chairs, and from time to time selecting comfits from a jewelled box, was a tall, fair man rather florid of countenance, with very arched eyebrows, and an enormous periwig. His dress and appointments were rich and heavily perfumed; his face was painted and powdered; his air was blasé. He wore salmon-pink with silver facings and silver ribbons. His coat was marvellously embroidered; its sleeves turned back from the elbow to allow his fine cambric shirt to billow forth into foamy ruffles of Mechlin. His person was lavishly besprinkled with jewels, and the hilt of his sword was of wrought gold with rubies and diamonds scattered over it.
In all a handsome, foppish gentleman, with just enough of daredevilry and charm in his manner to soften the slightly repellent insolence that characterized him. His Grace of Buckingham.