The North-east spends his rage; he now shut up Within his iron cave, the effusive South Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent.

Had she been in the fore-house, and no passage to go through to get at the street door, she had certainly been gone.

The eye standeth in the finer medium and the object in the grosser.

French pox ― syphillis