Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade,

Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid,

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): Oh breathe not his Name.

As cold as cucumbers.

Beaumont And Fletcher: Cupid's Revenge. Act i. Sc. 1.

As cold as any stone.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Can storied urn, or animated bust,

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?

Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust,

Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 11.

Back and side go bare, go bare,

Both foot and hand go cold;

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,

Whether it be new or old.

Bishop Still (John) (1543-1607): Gammer Gurton's Needle. Act ii.

Oh call it by some better name,

For friendship sounds too cold.

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): Oh call it by some better Name.

The cold in clime are cold in blood,

Their love can scarce deserve the name.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: The Giaour. Line 1099.

At length the morn and cold indifference came.

Nicholas Rowe (1673-1718): The Fair Penitent. Act i. Sc. 1.

She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty,

Grows cold even in the summer of her age.

John Dryden (1631-1701): oedipus. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Ay me! what perils do environ

The man that meddles with cold iron!

Samuel Butler (1600-1680): Hudibras. Part i. Canto iii. Line 1.

Lest the bargain should catch cold and starve.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Cymbeline. Act i. Sc. 4.

And the cold marble leapt to life a god.

Henry Hart Milman (1791-1868): The Belvedere Apollo.

And sleep in dull cold marble.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;

To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;

This sensible warm motion to become

A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit

To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside

In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;

To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,

And blown with restless violence round about

The pendent world.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Cold on Canadian hills or Minden's plain,

Perhaps that parent mourned her soldier slain;

Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew,

The big drops mingling with the milk he drew

Gave the sad presage of his future years,—

The child of misery, baptized in tears.

John Langhorne (1735-1779): The Country Justice. Part i.

A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog

Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old,

Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air

Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire.

Thither by harpy-footed Furies hal'd,

At certain revolutions all the damn'd

Are brought, and feel by turns the bitter change

Of fierce extremes,—extremes by change more fierce;

From beds of raging fire to starve in ice

Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine

Immovable, infix'd, and frozen round,

Periods of time; thence hurried back to fire.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 592.

The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew,

The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,—too many, yet how few!

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 24.

For this relief much thanks: 't is bitter cold,

And I am sick at heart.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1.

O Life! how pleasant is thy morning,

Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning!

Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning,

We frisk away,

Like schoolboys at th' expected warning,

To joy and play.

Robert Burns (1759-1796): Epistle to James Smith.