You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come;

Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Epigram.

His wit invites you by his looks to come,

But when you knock, it never is at home.

William Cowper (1731-1800): Conversation. Line 303.

And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,

Against the use of nature. Present fears

Are less than horrible imaginings.

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

His wit invites you by his looks to come,

But when you knock, it never is at home.

William Cowper (1731-1800): Conversation. Line 303.

Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail

Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt,

Dispraise, or blame,—nothing but well and fair,

And what may quiet us in a death so noble.

John Milton (1608-1674): Samson Agonistes. Line 1721.

A knock-down argument: 't is but a word and a blow.

John Dryden (1631-1701): Amphitryon. Act i. Sc. 1.