"Darest thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood,

And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word,

Accoutred as I was, I plunged in

And bade him follow.

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

Alone!—that worn-out word,

So idly spoken, and so coldly heard;

Yet all that poets sing and grief hath known

Of hopes laid waste, knells in that word Alone!

Edward Bulwer Lytton (1805-1873): The New Timon. (1846.) Part ii.

Alone!—that worn-out word,

So idly spoken, and so coldly heard;

Yet all that poets sing and grief hath known

Of hopes laid waste, knells in that word Alone!

Edward Bulwer Lytton (1805-1873): The New Timon. (1846.) Part ii.

A word and a blow.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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

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

Choice word and measured phrase above the reach

Of ordinary men.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): Resolution and Independence. Stanza 14.

Answer me in one word.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves

For a bright manhood, there is no such word

As "fail."

Edward Bulwer Lytton (1805-1873): Richelieu. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Oh, many a shaft at random sent

Finds mark the archer little meant!

And many a word at random spoken

May soothe, or wound, a heart that's broken!

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): Lord of the Isles. Canto v. Stanza 18.

Nor can one word be chang'd but for a worse.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Odyssey of Homer. Book viii. Line 192.

That in the captain's but a choleric word

Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.

The damned use that word in hell.

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

Who so shall telle a tale after a man,

He moste reherse, as neighe as ever he can,

Everich word, if it be in his charge,

All speke he never so rudely and so large;

Or elles he moste tellen his tale untrewe,

Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe.

Geoffrey Chaucer (1328-1400): Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 733.

It is the hour when from the boughs

The nightingale's high note is heard;

It is the hour when lovers' vows

Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Parisina. Stanza 1.

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been,—

A sound which makes us linger; yet—farewell!

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 186.

Farewell!

For in that word, that fatal word,—howe'er

We promise, hope, believe,—there breathes despair.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 15.

I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.

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

He was the Word, that spake it:

He took the bread and brake it;

And what that Word did make it,

I do believe and take it.

Dr John Donne (1573-1631): Divine Poems. On the Sacrament.

If my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word.

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

A word in season spoken

May calm the troubled breast.

Charles Jefferys (1807-1865): A Word in Season.

Thus adorned, the two heroes, 'twixt shoulder and elbow,

Shook hands and went to 't; and the word it was bilbow.

John Byrom (1691-1763): Upon a Trial of Skill between the Great Masters of the Noble Science of Defence, Messrs. Figg and Sutton.

Religion blushing, veils her sacred fires,

And unawares Morality expires.

Nor public flame nor private dares to shine;

Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!

Lo! thy dread empire Chaos is restor'd,

Light dies before thy uncreating word;

Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall,

And universal darkness buries all.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Dunciad. Book iv. Line 649.

Good people all, with one accord,

Lament for Madam Blaize,

Who never wanted a good word

From those who spoke her praise.

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize.

Here lies our sovereign lord the king,

Whose word no man relies on;

He never says a foolish thing,

Nor ever does a wise one.

Earl Of Rochester (1647-1680): Written on the Bedchamber Door of Charles II.

But yesterday the word of Caesar might

Have stood against the world; now lies he there,

And none so poor to do him reverence.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Julius Caesar. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Oh for a single hour of that Dundee

Who on that day the word of onset gave!

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): Sonnet, in the Pass of Killicranky.

And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd,

That palter with us in a double sense:

That keep the word of promise to our ear

And break it to our hope.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 8.

Oh no! we never mention her,—

Her name is never heard;

My lips are now forbid to speak

That once familiar word.

Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839): Oh no! we never mention her.

At every word a reputation dies.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Rape of the Lock. Canto iii. Line 16.

Alone!—that worn-out word,

So idly spoken, and so coldly heard;

Yet all that poets sing and grief hath known

Of hopes laid waste, knells in that word Alone!

Edward Bulwer Lytton (1805-1873): The New Timon. (1846.) Part ii.

It is the hour when from the boughs

The nightingale's high note is heard;

It is the hour when lovers' vows

Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Parisina. Stanza 1.

The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,

Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

Omar Khayyam (1048-1131): Rubáiyát. Stanza lxxi.

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been,—

A sound which makes us linger; yet—farewell!

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 186.

Built God a church, and laugh'd his word to scorn.

William Cowper (1731-1800): Retirement. Line 688.

Cel.  Not a word?

Ros.  Not one to throw at a dog.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 3.

I never tempted her with word too large,

But, as a brother to his sister, show'd

Bashful sincerity and comely love.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.

And torture one poor word ten thousand ways.

John Dryden (1631-1701): Britannia Rediviva. Line 208.

But to the hero, when his sword

Has won the battle for the free,

Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;

And in its hollow tones are heard

The thanks of millions yet to be.

Alfred Bunn (1790-1860): Marco Bozzaris.

The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,

Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

Omar Khayyam (1048-1131): Rubáiyát. Stanza lxxi.

I am thy father's spirit,

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,

And for the day confin'd to fast in fires,

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid

To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word

Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,

Thy knotted and combined locks to part

And each particular hair to stand an end,

Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:

But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!

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

I 'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.

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