Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,

My very noble and approv'd good masters,

That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,

It is most true; true, I have married her:

The very head and front of my offending

Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,

And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace:

For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,

Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used

Their dearest action in the tented field,

And little of this great world can I speak,

More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,

And therefore little shall I grace my cause

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver

Of my whole course of love.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act i. Sc. 3.

With all its beauteous honours on its head.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Iliad of Homer. Book iv. Line 557.

A buck of the first head.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Oh would I were dead now,

Or up in my bed now,

To cover my head now,

And have a good cry!

Thomas Hood (1798-1845): A Table of Errata.

Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 1.

From the crown of our head to the sole of our foot.

Thomas Middleton (1580-1627): A Mad World, my Masters. Act i. Sc. 3.

From the crown of the head to the sole of the foot.

Beaumont And Fletcher: The Honest Man's Fortune. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Sydneian showers

Of sweet discourse, whose powers

Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.

Richard Crashaw (Circa 1616-1650): Wishes to his Supposed Mistress.

The meeting points the sacred hair dissever

From the fair head, forever, and forever!

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 153.

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,—

Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,

Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): The Deserted Village. Line 189.

The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame

Over his living head like heaven is bent,

An early but enduring monument,

Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song

In sorrow.

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822): Adonais. xxx.

Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,

And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,

Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,

No son of mine succeeding.

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

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber!

Holy angels guard thy bed!

Heavenly blessings without number

Gently falling on thy head.

Isaac Watts (1674-1748): A Cradle Hymn.

Sleep is a death; oh, make me try

By sleeping what it is to die,

And as gently lay my head

On my grave as now my bed!

Sir Thomas Browne (1605-1682): Religio Medici. Part ii. Sect. xii.

Oh good gray head which all men knew!

Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892): Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4.

O Lady, he is dead and gone!

Lady, he's dead and gone!

And at his head a green grass turfe,

And at his heels a stone.

Thomas Percy (1728-1811): The Friar of Orders Gray.

O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,

With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,

And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 948.

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.

John Milton (1608-1674): Lycidas. Line 168.

Who fears to speak of Ninety-eight?

Who blushes at the name?

When cowards mock the patriot's fate,

Who hangs his head for shame?

John K. Ingram (1820-1907): The Dublin Nation, April 1, 1843, Vol. ii. p. 339.

As with my hat upon my head

I walk'd along the Strand,

I there did meet another man

With his hat in his hand.

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784): Johnsoniana. George Steevens. 310.

Here the heart

May give a useful lesson to the head,

And Learning wiser grow without his books.

William Cowper (1731-1800): The Task. Book vi. Winter Walk at Noon. Line 85.

O bed! O bed! delicious bed!

That heaven upon earth to the weary head!

Thomas Hood (1798-1845): Her Dream.

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth,

A youth to fortune and to fame unknown:

Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,

And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): The Epitaph.

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,

Unhousell'd, disappointed, unaneled,

No reckoning made, but sent to my account

With all my imperfections on my head.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5.

Tell me where is fancy bred,

Or in the heart or in the head?

How begot, how nourished?

Reply, Reply.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

The head is not more native to the heart.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2.

The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read,

With loads of learned lumber in his head.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Essay on Criticism. Part iii. Line 53.

Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou?

Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead?

Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low

Some less majestic, less beloved head?

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 168.

Such as take lodgings in a head

That's to be let unfurnished.

Samuel Butler (1600-1680): Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 161.

Hit the nail on the head.

John Fletcher (1576-1625): Love's Cure. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Seven cities warred for Homer being dead,

Who living had no roofe to shrowd his head.

Thomas Heywood (1570-1641): Hierarchie of the Blessed Angells.

His head,

Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,

Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,

But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.

William Cowper (1731-1800): The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 702.

Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Off with his head!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Off with his head! so much for Buckingham!

Colley Cibber (1671-1757): Richard III. (altered). Act iv. Sc. 3.

On horror's head horrors accumulate.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3.

In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill,

For e'en though vanquish'd he could argue still;

While words of learned length and thundering sound

Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around;

And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew

That one small head could carry all he knew.

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): The Deserted Village. Line 209.

Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart.

One self-approving hour whole years outweighs

Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas;

And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels

Than Caesar with a senate at his heels.

In parts superior what advantage lies?

Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?

'T is but to know how little can be known;

To see all others' faults, and feel our own.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Essay on Man. Epistle iv. Line 254.

Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;

And this our life, exempt from public haunt,

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.

John Milton (1608-1674): Lycidas. Line 168.

Half way down

Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!

Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:

The fishermen that walk upon the beach

Appear like mice.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 6.

Is there no hope? the sick man said;

The silent doctor shook his head.

John Gay (1688-1732): Fables. Part i. The Sick Man and the Angel.

His head,

Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,

Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,

But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.

William Cowper (1731-1800): The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece. Line 702.

I never knew so young a body with so old a head.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou?

Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead?

Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low

Some less majestic, less beloved head?

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 168.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

The tall, the wise, the reverend head

Must lie as low as ours.

Isaac Watts (1674-1748): Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book ii. Hymn 63.

Such as take lodgings in a head

That's to be let unfurnished.

Samuel Butler (1600-1680): Hudibras. Part i. Canto i. Line 161.

Like one that on a lonesome road

Doth walk in fear and dread,

And having once turned round walks on,

And turns no more his head,

Because he knows a frightful fiend

Doth close behind him tread.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): The Ancient Mariner. Part vi.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Remote from cities liv'd a swain,

Unvex'd with all the cares of gain;

His head was silver'd o'er with age,

And long experience made him sage.

John Gay (1688-1732): Fables. Part i. The Shepherd and the Philosopher.

The other shape,

If shape it might be call'd that shape had none

Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb;

Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd,

For each seem'd either,—black it stood as night,

Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,

And shook a dreadful dart; what seem'd his head

The likeness of a kingly crown had on.

Satan was now at hand.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 666.

Stuff the head

With all such reading as was never read:

For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it,

And write about it, goddess, and about it.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 249.