Shrewsbury by Stanley J. Weyman

It cannot at this time of day be needful for me to describe in detail the aspect of those features which the action disclosed, since they are as well remembered by many still living as they are faithfully preserved for posterity -- lacking some of the glow and passion which then animated them -- on the canvas by Sir Peter Lely, which hangs in the Charterhouse. The Duke of Shrewsbury -- to set concealment aside -- was then in his thirty-sixth year, in the prime and bloom of manhood, of a fair complexion and regular features; over which the habitude of high rank and the possession of unrivalled parts threw a cast of reserve and stateliness, not unbecoming. As he was by nature so sensitive that on this side alone his enemies found him vulnerable, so his face in repose, if it had any blemish at all, had the fault of bordering on the womanish, the lines of his mouth following those of the choicest models of antiquity. But this blemish -- if that which bore witness to the most affectionate disposition in the world could be called by that name -- was little marked in public life, the awe which his eyes, alike firm and penetrating, inspired in the vulgar, rendering most people blind to it. To sum up, his face gave a just idea of his character; for though indolent, he was of such a temper that the greatest dared take no liberty with him; and though proud he gave the meanest his rights and a place.

Such, in fine, was the man who now confronted Ferguson, and with a stern light in his eye bade the schemer stand out. That the latter from the first had intended to declare himself, was as certain as that, now the time had come, he hesitated; awed by the mere power of worth, as I have heard that wicked men calling up spirits from the deep have stood affrighted before the very beings they have summoned. Yet his hesitation was for a moment only; after which, rallying the native audacity of a temperament which rejoiced in these intrigues and denouements, he stepped jauntily forward, and assuming such a parody of dignity as likened his clumsy figure and sneaking face to nothing so much as an ape decked out in man's clothes, he allowed the light to fall on his features.