Ere on thy chin the springing beard began
To spread a doubtful down, and promise man.
The hoary beard is a crown of glory if it be
found in the way of righteousness.
Proverbs. XVI. 31.
Tarry at Jericho until your beards be grown.
Golden hair, like sunlight streaming
On the marble of her shoulder.
His hair is of a good colour.
An excellent colour; your chestnut was ever the only colour.
As You Like It. Act III. Sc. 4. L. 11.
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand an-end,
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
Hamlet. Act. I. Sc. 5. L. 15.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Boccaccio)
And his chin new reap'd,
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home.
Henry IV,. Pt. I. Art I. Sc. 3. L. 34.
How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
Henry IV. Pt. II. Act V. Sc. 5. L. 52.
Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright.
Henry VI. Pt. II. Act III. Sc. 3. L. 15.
Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glue themselves in sociable grief,
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
King John. Act III. Sc. 4. L. 61.
And her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece.
Merchant of Venice. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 169.
What a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail.
Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:
If that be all the difference in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.
Thy fair hair my heart enchained.
Sir Philip Sidnet—Neapolitan Villaneu.
Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre,
Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres atweene,
Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre.
Spenser—Epithalamwn. St. 9.
Ah, thy beautiful hair! so was it once braided for
me, for me;
Now for death is it crowned, only for death, lover
and lord of thee.
Swinburne—Choriambics. St. 5.
But, rising up,
Robed in the long night of her deep hair, so
To the open window moved.
| author = Tennyson
| work = Princess.
| seealso = (See also Cornwall)
| topic = Hair
| page =
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 19
| text = <poem>The Father of Heaven.
Spin, daughter Mary, spin,
Twirl your wheel with silver din;
Spin, daughter Mary, spin,
Spin a tress for Viola.
Francis Thompson—The Making of Viola.
St. 1.
Come let me pluck that silver hair
Which 'mid thy clustering curls I see;
The withering type of time or care
Has nothing, sure, to do with thee.
Alaric Alex Watts—The Grey Hair.
Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves,
(Green leaves upon her golden hair!)
Green grasses through the yellow sheaves
Of Autumn corn are not more fair.
| author = Oscar Wilde
| work = La Bella Donna della mia Mente.
| topic = Hair
| page = 349
}}
HAND
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 22
| text = Even to the delicacy of their hand There was resemblance such as true blood wears.
| author = Byron
| work = Don Juan.
| place = Canto IV. St. 45.
| topic = Hand
| page = 349
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 23
| text = <poem>For through the South the custom still commands
The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.
Bless the hand that gave the blow.
Dryden—The Spanish Friar. Act II. Sc. 1.
| seealso = (See also Pomfret)
| topic = Hand
| page = 349
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 25
| text = <poem>Una mano lava 1'altra, ed ambedue Iavano il
volto.
One hand washeth another, both the face.
John Florio—Vocabolario Italiano & Ingkse.
His hand will be against every man, and every
man's hand against him.
Genesis. XVI. 12.
The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau.
Rubente dextra.
Red right hand.
