Archive for December, 2009


WRI’TATIVE. A word of Pope’s coining: not to be imitated.
Increase of years makes men more talkative, but less writa
tive; to that degree, that I now write no letters but of plain
how d’ye’s. Pope to Swift.


WO’RKINGDAY. n.s. [work and day.] Day on which labour
is permitted; not the sabbath.
How full of briars is this workingday world? Shakespeare.
Will you have me, lady?
–No, my lord, unless I might have another for working
days; your grace is too costly to wear every day. Shakesp.

To WI’LDER. v.a.

To WI’LDER. v.a. [from wild.] To loose or puzzle in an
unknown or pathless tract.
The little courtiers, who ne’er come to know
The depth of factions, as in mazes go,
Where interests meet, and cross so oft, that they
With too much care are wilder’d in the way. Dryden.
Oh thou! who free’st me from my doubtful state,
Long lost and wilder’d in the maze of fate,
Be present still.  Pope.

WE’LKED. adj.

WE’LKED. adj.  Wrinkled; wreathed.
Methought his eyes
Were two full moons: he had a thousand noses,
Horns welk’d and wav’d like the enridged sea. Shakespeare.

WA’YLESS. adj.

WA’YLESS. adj. [from way.] Pathless; untracked.
When on upon my wayless walk,
As my desires me draw,
I, like a madman fell to talk
With every thing I saw. Drayton’s Queen of Cynthia.

To WAWL. v.n.

To WAWL. v.n. [pa, grief, Saxon.] To cry; to howl.
The first time that we smell the air,
We wawle and cry. Shakespeare’s K. Lear.

WA’NTWIT. n.s.

WA’NTWIT. n.s. [want and wit.] A fool; an idiot.
Such a wantwit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself. Shakespeare.

U’PPISH. adj.

U’PPISH. adj. [from up.] Proud; arrogant. A low word.


UNWRI’TING. adj. Not assuming the character of an author.
The peace of the honest unwriting subject was daily mo-
lested. Arbuthnot.


UNSUN’NED. adj. Not exposed to the sun.
I thought her as chaste as unsunn’d snow. Shakespeare.
You may as well spread out the unsunn’d heaps
Of misers treasure by an outlaw’s den,
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope
Danger will wink an opportunity,
And let a single, helpless maiden pass
Uninjur’d in this wild surrounding waste. Milton.