Chapter IV: Part 4

German Synonyms. Abbaschen (from paschen, ‘to smuggle’); abbauen (literally ‘to remove, or finish’ [a building]); abfocken; abhalchen (from Hebrew holach, ‘to go’); schefften; abschnurren (a beggar-musicians’ term; also to beg through a lane, town, or district. [M.H.G., snurren, schnurren, schnurrant]); abtarchenen; abtippeln (to run away secretly); alchen (from Hebrew holach, ‘to go’); aschween (Hanoverian: according to Thiele hascheweine—probably corrupted from schuw; heschiw, ‘to turn round’); blättern (corrupted from plettern—Hebrew pleto); caball (from Latin caballus, ‘a horse’; hence, to fly quickly as if on horseback); dippeln (a Viennese thieves’ term) fucken or focken.

Italian Fourbesque. Sbignare or svignare (these words though given as cant by the author of the Nuovo Modo are now received words); comprare (lit. ‘to buy’); comprar viole; allungare il muro (lit. ‘to lengthen the wall’); balzare (lit. ‘to caper,’ ‘to skip,’ ‘to bounce’); batter la calcosa (lit. ‘to beat the earth.’ Cf., American ‘to cut dirt’); dare a lata; scoscare.

Spanish Germania. Piñarse (an old and now obsolete term); alar; alarse; alolargo (lit. ‘at large’); picar (lit. ‘to use the spurs’); safarse (lit. ‘to escape’ or ‘save oneself’ [from arrest]).

Amuse, verb. (old cant).—To fling dust or snuff in the eyes of a person intended to be robbed. Also, to invent some plausible tale, to delude shop-keepers and others, thereby to put them off their guard, and so to obtain an opportunity of robbing them.

Amusers, subs. (old cant and American thieves’).—A certain class of thieves’ accomplices who throw snuff, pepper, and other noxious substances in the eyes of the person they intend to rob, a confederate then, while apparently coming to the rescue, completing the operation. In this, as in much of the slang of the criminal classes, there runs a vein of brutal cynicism. Though obsolete in England the term survives in America amongst the criminal classes.

Anabaptist, subs. (old slang).—A pickpocket caught in the act, and punished with the discipline of the pump or horse-pond.—Grose.

Anchor. To come to an anchor, verb. phr. (nautical and common).—To stop; to sit down; to rest. [From the operation of bringing ships to a standstill by casting anchor.]

Anchorage, subs. (common).—An abode; where one dwells. Of nautical origin (see Anchor). For synonyms, see Diggings.

Ancient Mariners, subs. (Univ. Oxford).—A term applied to rowing dons.

And Don’t You Forget It, phr. (American).—A senseless string of words employed indiscriminately in season and out of season. Like ‘Who’s your hatter?’ ‘How’s your poor feet?’ ‘Not for Joe!’ ‘Does your mother know you’re out?’ ‘What! again! so soon?’ and many others, which every now and then have caught the ‘fancy’ of the streets of our large towns, the phrase under consideration has run an almost riotous course through the large centres of population in America. In most cases these strings of words convey no special idea, and can only be described as utterly vulgar, without the slightest scintillation of wit or humour of any kind.

1888. Boston Weekly Globe, Feb. 29. There can be no two opposing
opinions in that respect. Great capital demands dividends.
Dividends can be had only from a prosperous business. A prosperous
business must recognise the law of supply and demand, and if the
public demand dirt the newspapers will furnish dirt—and don’t you
forget it.

1888. Detroit Free Press, Oct. 6. ‘Did you see any Quakers in
Philadelphia?’ was asked of a Detroiter who lately returned from
that city.

‘Only one that I was sure of.’

‘Did he ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ you?’

‘He did. He got down off his hack and said: ‘If thee don’t pay me
2 dols. I’ll knock thy blamed head off,’ and I paid, although I
knew the regular fare was twelve shillings. You don’t want to fool
with those Quakers any, and don’t you forget it.’

And He Didn’t, phr. (tailors’).—A phrase of the all my eye (q.v.) stamp, i.e., ‘You tell me you have not; but for all that I think you have’—the action referred to being generally of a discreditable character.

And No Mogue? phr. (tailors’).—Used in a variety of ways to signify doubt and uncertainty. It is equivalent to the street gamin’s ‘no kid?’ when used interrogatively, i.e., ‘there’s no mistake, is there?’ ‘Now, joking apart?’ Also used as a ‘set down’ to narrators claiming descent from Baron Munchausen, in which case it is equivalent to the ‘You don’t say so!’ of politer circles; in both cases the spokesman conveys the idea that one’s credulity has been somewhat taxed.

And No Whistle, phr. (tailors’).—A kind of tu quoque; usually applied to a man by a listener desiring to convey to the speaker the idea that no matter what others may think to the contrary, he [the listener] believes that what has been said refers to the person speaking.

Andrew Millar, subs. (nautical).—A curious cant name for a ship of war; sometimes simply Andrew. Its origin is quite unknown; but it has been pointed out that Antonio, in the Merchant of Venice, speaks of one of his vessels as his ‘wealthy Andrew’; and it has been conjectured that in this case the ship was named after the celebrated Admiral Andrea Doria, who died in 1560. But to trace any connection between this Andrew, however general the use of the name may have become, and the Andrew Millar of modern sailors’ slang, would be difficult.

1598. Shakspeare, Merchant of Venice, i., i., 27.

But I should think of shallows and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew dock’d in sand.

Among Australian smugglers the term still survives for a revenue cutter.

Angel or Flying Angel, subs. (common).—Explained by quotation.

1880. James Greenwood, Seaside Insanity in Odd People in Odd
Places, p. 45. It is at this point when the one day excursionist,
who, as well as his wife, has an olive-branch or two with him,
finds his fortitude suddenly collapse. With the youngest but one
(his good lady, of course, carries the baby) bestriding his
shoulder, he puts his best foot foremost from the beach to the town
so as to be in good time at the station. He is hot and fagged, and
his temper is not improved by the knowledge that the cherub to whom
he is giving a ‘flying angel’ is smearing his Sunday hat with the
seaweed with which its little fists are full.

Angelicas.—See Angelics.

Angelics, subs. (old).—Unmarried young ladies. Now Angelicas.

1821. Moncrieff, Tom and Jerry, p. 5. (Dicks’ ed., 1889.) Jerry.
You think the cut of my clothes rather too rustic—eh? Tom. Exactly;
dress is the order of the day. A man must have the look of a
gentleman, if he has nothing else. We must assume a style if we
have it not. This, what do you call it?—this cover-me-decently, was
all very well at Hawthorn Hall, I daresay; but here, among the
pinks in Rotten Row, the ladybirds in the Saloon, the angelics at
Almack’s, the top-of-the-tree heroes, the legs and levanters at
Tattersall’s, nay, even among the millers at the Fives, it would be
taken for nothing less than the index of a complete flat.

Angeliferous, adj. (American).—Angelic; also super-excellent; a factitious word. It is interesting to note that ‘angelification,’ ‘angelify,’ and ‘angelified,’ were in use in the seventeenth century, but never to any great extent. [From angel + iferous, a spurious form based on the model of ‘auriferous.’] It is said to have been first used by Bird in his novel, entitled Nick of the Woods.

Angels Altogether, subs. phr. (West Indian).—A sobriquet applied to habitual drunkards. It originated about the year 1876, and was, in the first instance, a bon-mot of a well-known sugar planter on the East Coast Demerara. A negro hand, notorious for his hard drinking, applied for a holiday, and the manager having a suspicion that Quashie wanted it simply to go ‘on the drink,’ bantered him as follows:—‘John! you were drunk on Sunday?’ ‘Yes, massa!’ ‘Monday too?’ ‘Yes, massa!’ and on the question being repeated as regards Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, it elicited similar responses, whereupon the ‘boss’ quietly, but pointedly said, ‘But John, you can’t be an angel altogether, you know!’ The story got abroad, caught on, and in a short time the whole colony rang with the expression.

Angel’s Footstool, subs. phr. (nautical).—Yankee skippers, given to high falutin’, aver that their craft carry far more canvas than any vessel afloat of ‘foreign’ origin (the term ‘foreign’ including British bottoms, as well as those of nations other than Anglo-Saxon). Imaginary sails are crowded on their craft, among these being one which they jokingly call an angel’s footstool. It is pretended to be a square sail, and is supposed to top the skyscrapers, moon-sails, and cloud cleaners (q.v.).

Angel’s Gear, subs. phr. (nautical).—It is thus that ‘jolly tars’ sometimes speak of female attire. Jack is notoriously most susceptible where a petticoat is concerned.

Angel’s-Oil, subs. (old).—A seventeenth century colloquialism for money used for bribery; sometimes oil of angels. For synonyms, see Actual, and Boodle.

Angel’s Suit, subs. phr. (tailors’).—A ‘combination’ garment for males. The coat and waistcoat were made in one, and the ‘unmentionables’ buttoned on to it. Neither garment nor name was extensively adopted.

Angel’s Whisper, subs. phr. (military).—A name given to the call to defaulter’s drill. Needless to say it is, as Artemus Ward would express it, ‘wrote sarcastic.’

Anglers, Hookers, or Starrers, subs. (old).—Pilferers or petty thieves, who, with a stick having a hook at the end, steal goods from shop windows, etc. So far Grose; but Duncombe adds that starrers are an order of thieves who break show glasses in jewellers’ windows and, in the consequent confusion steal the goods. The term is a very ancient one. Dekker in English Villanies [1632], thus describes an ‘angler for duds’:—‘He carries a short staff in his hand, which is called a filch, having in the nab or head of it a ferme (that is to say a hole) into which, upon any piece of service, when he goes a filching, he putteth a hooke of iron, with which hook he angles at a window in the dead of night for shirts, smockes, or any other linen or woollen.’ It would appear from this that modern thieves are both much more daring and expert. It is not an uncommon thing for a crack thief, in the broad daylight, in the most crowded streets of London, to break a jeweller’s window, snatch some valuables, and make off with them. An iron instrument is used for the purpose which is concealed by the coat sleeve.—See Area sneak.

Angling Cove, subs. (thieves’).—A receiver of stolen goods.—See Fence.

Angling for Farthings, verb. phr. (old thieves’).—Begging out of a prison window with a cap or box, let down at the end of a long string.—Grose. Such a practice, it is needless to say, would be impossible nowadays.—See Hooker.

Anglomaniacs, subs. phr. (American).—A club in Boston is thus self-styled. Its members are opposed to anything British in every shape and form. The term is of course a contradiction, and should, to express the policy of its members, be Anglophobists.

Angry Boys.—See Bloods.

Angular Party, subs. phr. (common).—A term given to any gathering of people of which the number is odd; say three, seven, thirteen, etc.

Animal, subs. (American).—A new arrival at the United States Military Academy at West Point. Cf., Snooker.

To go the whole animal (American).—A variant of ‘to go the whole hog.’ In the West Indies it is varied by ‘to go the whole dog.’—See Hog.

1838. C. Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby, p.... Opposing all half
measures, and preferring to go the extreme animal.

1859. G. A. Sala, Twice Round the Clock, p. 62.... that they had
much better pay first-class, and go the entire animal.

Animules, subs. (American).—This expression is very generally used in the South-western territories, and in California, as a substitute for ‘mules.’ A witty play upon ‘animals’ and ‘mules.’

1834(?) Centre-Pole Bill, in Overland Monthly. ‘Ten miles to town!
Waal, stranger, I guess I’ll stake out here to-night. Them animules
is too beat to do that. Where’s yer water?’ ‘It’s all around you
to-night; but you can turn your mules into the corral.’

Ankle. To sprain one’s ankle, verb. phr. (old).—When a girl has been seduced she is said to have sprained her ankle. Both French and German slang have analogous expressions; in the former, elle a mal aux genoux is said of a woman who is pregnant, i.e., ‘she has a bad knee.’ In German, ladies so placed ‘lose a shoe’; but of synonyms there are plenty.—See Leg.

Ankle-Beaters, subs. phr. (old).—A class of boys who attended cattle markets for the purpose of driving to the slaughter-house the animals purchased by the butcher. They were called ankle-beaters from their driving the animals with long wattles, and beating them on the legs to avoid spoiling or bruising the flesh. Also called penny-boys (q.v.), because they received one penny per head as remuneration.

Anne’s Fan, properly Queen Anne’s Fan, subs. phr. (common).—Putting the tip of the thumb of either hand to the nose, and then spreading the fingers in the shape of a fan. A gesture of contempt often intensified either by twiddling the digits when in the position named, or by similarly placing the other hand in an extended line. It is also called taking a sight (q.v.), and biting the thumb (q.v.).

Annex, verb. (American).—To steal; in England the wise it call ‘convey.’—See Bone.

Anodyne, subs. (American thieves’).—A euphemism for death. From the figurative sense of the word—anything that soothes wounded or excited feelings, or that lessens the sense of misfortunes. Cf., Old English slang term for a halter, Anodyne necklace.

Verb. (American thieves’).—To kill. Cf., foregoing; also To cook one’s goose.

Anodyne Necklace, subs. phr. (old).—A halter. An anodyne is that which allays or extinguishes pain, and the hangman’s rope may indeed be regarded, from one point of view, as a cure for all pains. The expression is old, being traced back to 1639. During the period when the death penalty was inflicted for all kinds of comparatively trivial offences—for sheep stealing, and even highway robberies of not more than forty shillings value—synonyms equally grim and sententious were numerous. According to Wilyam Bullein, an anodyne necklace was that which ‘light fellows merrily will call ... neckweede, or Sir Tristam’s knot, or St. Andrew’s lace (q.v.).’ Other terms for the hangman’s noose were hempen cravat, horse’s nightcap, Tyburn tippet (q.v.).

1639. F. Beaumont, Bloody Brother, Act iii., Sc. 2. [Speaks of the
hangman’s halter as a ‘necklace.’]

1766. Oliver Goldsmith, Vicar of Wakefield [works, Globe ed., chap.
xx., p. 43.] [George Primrose’s cousin exclaims] ‘May I die by an
anodyne necklace, but I’d rather be an under-turnkey in Newgate
[than an usher in a boarding-school]’.

The water poet (John Taylor, a Thames waterman, 1580–1654), explaining the virtue of hemp, says:—

Some call it neck-weed, for it hath a tricke
To cure the necke that’s troubled with the crick.

An anodyne necklace was also the name of a quack amulet, which, for a long period, was a household word. This famous remedy occupied as prominent a position in the advertising columns of the journals of the middle of the eighteenth as Holloway’s pills in the latter part of the nineteenth century. This necklace was of beads artificially prepared, small, like barleycorns, and cost five shillings. For foreign synonyms, see Horse’s nightcap.

Anoint, verb. (familiar).—To beat soundly; to thrash; humorously derived from the proper meaning of the word, ‘to smear’ or ‘rub over with oil or other unctuous substances.’ In the North of England the saying is somewhat more analogous—‘to anoint with the sap of a hazel rod.’

1175. Rom. of Partenay (Skeat), 5653.

Then thay put hym hout, the kyng away fly,
Which so well was anoynted indede,
That no slene ne pane had he hole of brede.

1703. Fuller’s Trip to Bridewell, quoted in Ashton’s The Fleet, p.
211. The whipper began to noint me with his instrument, that had, I
believe, about a dozen strings notted at the end.

1748. Smollett, Rod. Random, ch. v. ‘I’ll bring him to the gangway,
and anoint him with a cat-and-nine-tails.’

1824. W. Irving, Tales of a Trav., II., 287. Seize a trusty staff
and anoint the back of the aggressor.

There seems to be some connection, too, between this sense of to anoint, and the depraved use of anointed (q.v.) to signify great rascality. Cf., Strap oil.

Anoint or Grease the Palm, verb. phr. (common).—To bribe. The Scotch say ‘to creesh the luif.’ The expression is very old.

1584. Knox, Hist. of Reformation, works [1846] I., 102. Yea, the
handis of our Lordis so liberallie were anoynted.

See Grease the palm.

Anointed, ppl. adj. (old).—1. Used in a depraved sense to signify eminence in rascality. The most probable derivation appears to be that suggested by Prof. Skeat [N. and Q., 3 S., ix., 422]. In a French MS., Romance of Melusine, is an account of a man who had received a thorough and severe beating, which is thus referred to:—Qui anoit este si bien oignt. The English version [Early English Text Society] translates this, ‘which so well was anoynted indeed.’ From this it is clear that to anoint a man was to give him a sound drubbing, and that the word was so used in the fifteenth century. Thus, an anointed rogue means either one who has been well thrashed or who has deserved to be. Cf., To anoint.

1769. Robertson, Hist. of Reign of Charles V. Many assumed the
clerical character for no other reason than that it might screen
them from the punishment which their actions deserved. The German
nobles complained loudly that their anointed malefactors, as they
called them, seldom suffered capitally even for the most enormous
crimes.

1825. Scott, St. Ronan’s Well, ch. xxxvii. ‘But, not being Lord
Etherington, and an anointed scoundrel into the bargain, I will
content myself with cudgelling him to death.’

2. Knowing; ripe for mischief.—Duncombe.

Anonyma, subs. (popular).—A lady of the demi-monde; generally, though not invariably, applied to one of the better class. Women of this status were also called by the Times pretty horsebreakers, a notorious anonyma (circa 1868) having been a good horsewoman. Another and earlier name was Incognita; this as well as anonyma had reference to the unrecognised position these ladies hold in what is called ‘Society,’ which tries to shut its eyes to a product of its own vice. The French cocotte best corresponds to the English term. For synonyms generally, see Barrack hack.

1864. G. A. Sala, Quite Alone, ch. i. Is that anonyma driving twin
ponies in a low phaeton, a parasol attached to her whip, and a
groom with folded arms behind her? Bah! there are so many anonymas
nowadays. If it isn’t the Nameless One herself, it is Synonyma.

1865. Ouida, Strathmore, ch. vi. ‘I’m getting tired of Mondes, one
confounds so easily with Demi-monde, and aristocrats that are so
near allied to anonyma.’

1881. Doran, In and about Drury Lane, vol. II., p. 159. Those
anonymas, who dress with such exquisite propriety lest they should
be mistaken for modest women.

1889. Modern Society, July 13, p. 852. ‘Christopher’s Honeymoon,’
by Mr. Malcolm Watson, produced at the Strand, on Wednesday, is not
wholly bad, but it is too thin. The honeymooner is surprised at his
wedding breakfast by the news that a former wife, whom he thought
dead, is still alive. Matters are still further complicated when
his mother-in-law mistakes his buxom laundress for a fair anonyma.

Another. You’re another, phr. (common).—A retort—in usage hardly courteous or suave. Generally spoken in anger or resentment. The quotations which follow specify clearly the manner of use. It is interesting to note how very old is this common rejoinder—nearly 350 years; it is, moreover, an example which fully illustrates the value of the historical method in dealing with slang words and phrases.

c. 1534. N. Udall, Roister Doister, III., v., p. 58 (Arber). R.
Royster. If it were another but thou, it were a tenane. M. Mery. Ye
are an other your selfe, sir. [M.]

1750. Fielding, Tom Jones, bk. IX., ch. vi. ‘You mistake me,
friend,’ cries Partridge, ‘I did not mean to abuse the cloth; I
only said your conclusion was a non-sequitur.’ ‘You are another,’
cries the Serjeant, ‘an’ you come to that. No more a sequitur than
yourself.’

1836. Dickens, Pickwick, ch. xv., p. 123. ‘Sir,’ said Mr. Tupman,
‘you’re a fellow.’ ‘Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘you’re another.’

1888. Sir W. Harcourt, Speech at Eighty Club, Feb. 21. You know the
little urchins in the street have a conclusive argument. They say
‘you’re another.’

Another Acrobat, phr. (music-hall).—Another drink—acrobat being a play upon the word ‘tumbler,’ i.e., a glass.

Another Guess, adj., or Another Guess Sort of Man, phr. (old). A cute man; one who is, in modern lingo, up to snuff (q.v.). ‘Guess’ suggests an erroneous derivation; the word is really a corruption of ‘another-gates’ [according to Murray the original genitive case ‘of another-gate, i.e., of another way, manner, or fashion’].

Another Lie Nailed to the Counter, phr. (American).—A detected slander. The practice of nailing spurious coins to shop counters is, even yet, not an obsolete custom in country districts; and hence, probably, is derived this colloquialism.

1888. Texas Siftings, Oct. 20. ‘Who employed you last?’ ‘A
Republican speaker, who had me back up his declaration that
Cleveland was in the habit of beating his wife!’ ‘But that lie was
nailed a good while ago.’ ‘I know it,’ chuckled the C.L., ‘but it’s
easy enough to pull out the nail.’

Antagonise, verb. (sporting).—This, ‘to act as an opponent,’ sounds very like slang; but, as a matter of fact, so long as the antagonising forces are of the same kind the word is legitimate enough. It has been so used from 1634 downwards, by Herbert, Keats, John Stuart Mill, and others. Only when (as for example in America a person in political phraseology is said to antagonise a measure when it is meant that he opposes it) the word is used in connection with antagonistic forces not of a kind can it be regarded as partaking of slang. In the quotation by Barrère from the Saturday Review (no date given: refer, however, to Sat. R., Dec. 18, 1886, p. 799) the word is used in a perfectly correct manner.

1886. Saturday Review on Sporting Slang, 18 Dec, p. 799, col. 1.
Dingley Dell sent Jones and Robinson to the wickets, where they
were antagonised with the leather by Alf and the Young Phenomenon.

Anthony, or To Cuff Anthony, verb. (old).—To knock one’s knees together from an infirmity. Also called to cuff Jonas.

Antony, or Anthony Cuffin, subs.—A knock-kneed man.

Anthony, or Tantony Pig, subs. (old).—See Tantony pig.

1787. Grose, Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. The favourite or
smallest pig in the litter; to follow like a tantony pig, i.e., St.
Anthony’s pig, signified to follow close at one’s heels. St.
Anthony, the hermit, was a swine herd, and is always represented
with his bell and pig.

Antimony, subs. (printers’).—Type; so called from one of its component parts.

Anyhow. Anyhow you can fix it, phr. (American).—A slang expression of acquiescence as, e.g., ‘I don’t know if you’ll succeed, but anyhow you can fix it.’

Any Other Man! phr. (American).—A call to order addressed to prosy, discursive speakers when they give themselves over to the use of synonymous terms.

Any Racket, subs. (rhyming slang).—A penny faggot.

Anything. Like, or as anything, adv. phr. (common).—A vulgarism rather than slang. Used in the same manner, as are like one o’clock; like old boots (q.v.), when a person is at a loss for a simile.—See Winkey.

1542. Udall’s Erasmus Apoph., p. 32. The young maiden, where the
lokers on quaked and trembled for feare, daunced without any feare
at all emong sweardes and kniues, beyng as sharpe as anythyng.

1740. Richardson, Pamela, ii., 57. O my dear father and mother, I
fear your girl will grow as proud as anything.

1840. Barham, I. L. (Misadv. at Margate).

The tear-drop in his little eye again began to spring,
His bosom throbb’d with agony, he cried like anything.

1878. Carroll, Through a Looking Glass, iv., 73. They wept like
anything to see such quantities of sand.

Anythingarian, subs. (common).—A contemptuous term for one who is apathetic as regards his political or religious creed, or other matters upon which mankind generally hold decided views. [From anything + arian, after trinit-arian, unit-arian.]

1717. Entertainer, Nov. 6 [quoted in N. & Q., 7 S., vi., 66]. Nor,
which is ten times worse, Free-thinkers, Atheists, Anythingarians.

1738. Swift, Polite Conversation (conv. i.).

Lady Sm. What religion is he of?

Lady Sp. Why, he is an anythingarian.

Lady Ans. I believe he has his religion to chuse, my lord.

1849. C. Kingsley, Alton Locke, ch. xxii. They made puir Robbie
Burns an anythingarian with their blethers.

Anythingarianism, subs. (popular).—The creed or doctrine of an Anythingarian.—[See preceding].

1851. C. Kingsley (Life, i., 215). Schiller’s ‘Gods of Greece’
expresses, I think, a tone of feeling very common, and which finds
its vent in modern Neo-Platonism—Anythingarianism.

Anything Else.—See Not doing anything else.

Anywhere Down There! (tailors’).—If, in a workroom or elsewhere where tailors congregate, an article is dropped upon the floor, anywhere down there! is used as a kind of catch-phrase.

Apartments. To have apartments to let, verb. phr. (popular).—1. To take rank in the estimation of one’s fellows as an idiot; ‘a born fool’—one who is empty-headed, not furnished with brains.

English Synonyms. To be dotty; to have a screw loose; to be balmy; to have a bee in one’s bonnet (Scotch); to be off one’s chump; to have no milk in the cocoa-nut; to be touched; to be balmy in one’s crumpet; to be wrong in the upper storey; to have rats in the upper storey; to have a tile loose; to be half baked.

French Synonyms. Avoir une écrevisse dans la tourte, or dans le vol-au-vent (popular: that is ‘to have a crawfish in the pie,’ or ‘in the head.’ Cf., ‘to have rats in the upper storey’); avoir la boule détraquée (popular: lit. ‘to have one’s ball turned’); avoir le coco félé (popular: lit. ‘to have one’s cocoa nut cracked.’ In English slang the head is also called a ‘cocoa-nut’); avoir le trognon détraquée (popular: ‘to have a bee in one’s bonnet.’ Trognon is also a slang term for the head or ‘noddle’); avoir un asticot dans la noisette (popular: lit. ‘to have a maggot in one’s nut.’ In English slang the head is likewise ‘the nut.’ Cf., also the expression ‘a worm in the bud’); avoir un bœuf gras dans le char (popular); avoir un cancrelat dans la boule (popular: lit. ‘to have a cockroach in one’s ball’—‘ball’ here referring to the head or ‘nut.’ Cancrelat is properly kakerlac or American cockroach); avoir un hanneton dans le reservoir (popular: lit. ‘to have a May-bug’ or ‘cockchafer in one’s cistern’ or ‘well.’ This seems to be on all fours with ‘a bee in one’s bonnet.’ The phrase sometimes runs avoir un hanneton dans le plafond, i.e., to have a cockchafer in one’s ceiling, and here the analogy between the two phrases is more clearly marked); avoir un moustique dans la boite au sel (popular: lit. ‘to have a mosquito in the salt-box or cellar’); avoir un voyageur dans l’omnibus (popular); avoir une araignée dans le plafond (popular: lit. ‘to have a spider in the head’; plafond, ‘a ceiling,’ be it noted is a slang term for ‘the head’); avoir une grenouille dans l’aquarium (popular: lit: ‘to have a frog in one’s aquarium’); avoir une hirondelle dans le soliveau (popular: ‘to have a swallow in the head’); avoir une Marseillaise dans le Kiosque (popular); avoir une punaise dans le soufflet (popular: ‘to have a bug in one’s brain’); avoir une sardine dans l’armoire à glace (popular: ‘to have a sardine in the head or brain.’ Armoire à glace = the head); avoir une trichinne dans le jambonneau (popular: jambonneau, the head); avoir une sauterelle dans la guitare (popular: lit. ‘to have a grasshopper in the guitar’).

For other synonyms, see Tile loose.

2. A widow is said to have apartments to let.

Ape-leader, subs. (old).—An old maid. Leading apes in hell was the employment jocularly assigned to those who neglected to assume marital functions while living.

1581. Lyly, Euphucs (Arb.), 87. Rather thou shouldest leade a lyfe
to thine owne lyking in earthe, than ... leade apes in hell. [M.]

1605. Lond. Prodigal, I., 2. ’Tes an old proverb, and you know it
well, that women dying maids lead apes in hell.

1717. Mrs. Centlivre, Bold Stroke, II., 1. Poor girl; she must
certainly lead apes, as the saying is.

1830. General P. Thompson, Exerc. (1842), I., 198. Joining with
other old women, in leading their apes in Tartarus. [M.]

There are several proverbial sayings in which the ape plays an important part. To say an ape’s paternoster is to chatter with cold; this corresponds with the French, dire des patenôtres de singe. To put an ape into one’s hood or cap, to make a fool of one, etc.

Apes, subs. (Stock Exchange).—Atlantic and North-Western Railway first mortgage bonds.

Apostles, or The Twelve Apostles, subs. phr. (Cambridge Univ.).—Formerly, when the Poll, or ordinary B.A. degree list was arranged in order of merit, the last twelve were nicknamed The Twelve Apostles. They were also called The Chosen Twelve, and the last, St. Poll or St. Paul—a punning allusion to 1 Cor. xv., 9, ‘For I am the least of the Apostles, that am not meet to be called an Apostle.’ The list is now arranged alphabetically and in classes. Hotten suggests that Apostles is a corruption of post alios, i.e., ‘after the others.’ It may perhaps also be mentioned that in one American University at least, Columbia College, D.C., the last twelve on the B.A. list actually receive the personal names of the Apostles.

1795. Gentleman’s Magazine, Jan., p. 19. [The last twelve names on
the Cambridge list are here called The Twelve Apostles.]

Manœuvering the Apostles, a variant of the familiar expression, ‘to rob Peter to pay Paul’; i.e., to borrow from one person to pay another.

Apostle’s Grove, subs. (common).—The London district known as St. John’s Wood. Also called grove of the evangelist. Both names are applied sarcastically in allusion to the large numbers of the demi-monde who live in that quarter of town.

Apothecary. To talk like an apothecary, verb phr. (old).—To talk nonsense; from the pseudo gravity and affectation of knowledge often assumed by these gentlemen at a time when their status was not legally held under examination and license of the Apothecaries’ Company.

Apothecaries’ bill, subs. (old).—A long bill.

Apothecaries’, or raw Latin, subs. (old).—Now called dog-Latin (q.v.).

Apple Cart, subs. (common). 1. The human body. A slang term similar to ‘potato trap,’ ‘bread-basket,’ ‘bellows,’ ‘blue plumb,’ ‘bacon,’ and ‘beer-barrel’ (all of which see). There are numerous variations in usage; e.g., if two men are quarrelling, and a friend of one interferes saying ‘I will upset his apple cart’ it means, ‘while you are parleying with the enemy I will knock him down.’ Again, if a child falls down, says W. W. Skeat (referring to his early Kentish remembrance of the word), you first enquire if he is much hurt. If he is merely a little frightened you say, ‘Well, never mind, then; you’ve only upset your apple cart and spilt the gooseberries.’ The child laughs and all is well again.

2. Also employed in a figurative sense. To upset an apple cart sometimes means, not so much to knock a man down, as to prevent him from doing what he wants to do by the upsetting as it were, of an imaginary apple cart; i.e., to thwart; to disarrange; to overthrow; to ruin an undertaking. Sometimes the expression is varied by to upset the old woman’s apple cart. Barrère’s reference of the genesis of the phrase to the costermonger’s imaginative powers is ‘all conjecture and fancy’; as also is his American derivation of the expression in its more figurative sense. In the first place apple carts are perfectly familiar objects in all country districts; and, in the second, the phrase is too old a provincialism to need deriving from the peripatetic vendors in question. Further, though to upset his apple cart and spill the peaches may be an American variation for the second sense, as it appears to have been so used, dialectically, throughout England, the weight of assumption must be given to its English origin, and subsequent transference to America.

English Synonyms. Beer-barrel; bacon.

French Synonyms. Acabit (literally, quality); cylindre (popular: lit. ‘a cylinder,’ or ‘barrel.’ Cf. with English ‘beer barrel’); grosse caisse (popular: lit. ‘a large case,’ or ‘box’); paillasse (popular: lit. ‘a straw mattress’); also place d’armes; casaquin.

Apple Dumpling Shop, subs. phr. (common).—A woman’s bosom. For synonyms, see Dairies.

Apple-Monger.—The same as apple-squire (q.v.).

Apple-Pie Bed, subs. phr. (common).—A practical joke, which consists in making up a bed with the sheets doubled half way up, so as to prevent a person from stretching out at full length, and filling the bag thus formed with brushes, soap-dishes, etc. So called, either from the apple-turnover, in which the ‘paste’ is turned over the apples, or from the French, à plis, folded.

1811. C. K. Sharpe, in Correspondence (1888), i., 466. After
squeezing myself up, and making a sort of apple-pye bed with the
beginning of my sheet.

1883. Saturday Review, Nov. 3, p. 566, col. 2. Some ‘evil-disposed
persons’ have already visited his room, made his bed into an
apple-pie, plentifully strewn with hair-brushes and razors.

The French have an analogous phrase, ‘mettre un lit en portefeuille.’

Apple-Pie Day, subs. phr. (Winchester Coll.)—The day on which Six-and-Six (q.v.) is played. It is the Thursday after the first Tuesday in December. So called because hot apple-pies were served on gomers (q.v.) in College for dinner.

Apple Pie Order, subs. phr. (familiar).—Exact or perfect order. Etymologists have long puzzled themselves concerning this expression, and many derivations have been put forward in explanation. Some have found in it an allusion to the regular order in which the component parts of some varieties of that toothsome delicacy, apple pie, were formerly laid one on the top of, or side by side with each other. Others, on the contrary, scout such a homely origin, and suggest that apple pie order is cap à pied order. The authorities who incline to this view point out that cap à pied in the sense of ‘perfectly appointed’ occurs in one of the scenes of Hamlet. Though orthographically the transition from one to the other, at first sight, would appear to be somewhat lame and halting, yet phonetically the difference is much less marked. It has further been suggested that apple pie order is a corruption of ‘Alpha-beta’ i.e., alphabetical order, but this would seem rather far-fetched, as also is the reference of it to the nursery rhyme of ‘A was an apple pie; B bit it; C cut it; D divided it,’ and so on, the allusion being to the regular order in which the letters of the alphabet occur. Probably the weight of evidence is on the side of the derivation from cap à pied, more especially as that phrase was once very familiar.

1813. Scott in Lochart, Life, IV. (1839), 131. The children’s
garden is in apple pie order.

1835. Marryat, Jacob Faithful, viii., 29. Put the craft a little
into apple pie order.

1837. Barham, I. L. (Old Woman in Grey).

I am just in the order which some folks—though why,
I am sure I can’t tell you—would call apple pie.

Apples. How we apples swim! phr. (common).—i.e., ‘What a good time we are having.’ This expression, a very old one, is synonymous with pleasureable experience coupled with brisk action.

1697–1764. Hogarth (Works by J. Ireland and J. Nichols, London,
1873), III., p. 29. And even this, little as it is, gives him so
much importance in his own eyes, that he assumes a consequential
air, sets his arms akimbo, and strutting among the historical
artists cries, ‘how we apples swim.’

1860. Cornhill Mag. (D. Mallett, Tyburn), Dec., p. 737. While
tumbling down the turbid stream, Lord, love us, how we apples swim.

Apples and Pears, subs. phr. (rhyming slang).—A pair of stairs.

Apple-Squire, subs. (old).—A harlot’s attendant, or fancy man (q.v.); these gentry are now commonly called ‘bullies’ (q.v.). Nares gives ‘squire of the body’ as a synonymous term; also apron-squire.

1500. (circa) Way to Spyttel Hous, 832 in Hazl. E. P. P., iv., 60.
[Here given as applesquyers.]

[1580–1654] Taylor, Discourse by Sea (works II., 21).

Are whoremasters decai’d, are bawds all dead,
Are pandars, pimps, and apple-squires all fled? [N.]

1738. Poor Robin.... Little truth will be found amongst cut-purses,
liars, bawds, whores, pimps, pandars, and apple-squires; only the
pimp pretends to something more of truth than the other, for if he
promise to help you to a whore, he will be sure that she shall not
be an honest woman. [N.]

For synonyms, ancient and modern, and also foreign equivalents, see Fancy man.

Apron. Green apron, subs. (old).—A contemptuous term for a lay preacher.—See Bible-pounder.

1654. Warren, Unbelievers, 145. It more befits a green-apron
preacher, than such a Gamaliel. [M.]

1705. Hickeringill, Priestcraft I. (1721). 21. Unbeneficed Noncons.
(that live by Alms and no Paternoster, no Penny, say the
green-aprons). [M.]

1765. Tucker, Lt. Nat., II., 451. The gifted priestess amongst the
Quakers is known by her green apron. [M.]

Aproneer, subs. (old).—A shop-keeper; a tradesman. Murray states that the term was used contemptuously of the Parliamentary party during the Civil Wars.

1659. Gauden, Tears of Church, 238. Some prating sequestrator, or
some surly aproneer.

1690. D’urfey, Collin’s Walk, c. iii., p. 107. But every sturdy
aproneer, arm’d with battoon, did straight appear.

Apron-Rogue, subs. (old).—A labourer; a mechanic.

1663. Killegrew, Parson’s Wedding in Dodsley’s Old Plays (1780),
XI., 382. Apron-rogues with horn hands. [M.]

Apron-Squire.—See Apple-squire.

Apron-String Hold or Tenure, subs. phr. (familiar).—An estate held by a man during his wife’s life; or by virtue of her right.

1647. Ward, Simp. Cobler, 67. Apron-string tenure is very weak.
[M.]

1753. Richardson, Grandison, iv., 23. He cursed the apron-string
tenure, by which he said he held his peace. [d.]

1804. Mrs. Barbauld, Richardson I., 160. All her fortune in her own
power—a very apron-string tenure.

Apron-Strings. To be tied to or always at a woman’s apron-strings, verb. phr. (common).—Under petticoat government; to dangle after a woman. Formerly said only of children; later of all who follow a woman subserviently.

1712. Spectator, No. 506. The fair sex are so conscious to
themselves, that they have nothing in them which can deserve
entirely to ingross the whole man, that they heartily despise one,
who, to use their own expression, is always hanging at their
apron-strings.

1834. Miss Edgeworth, Helen, ch. viii. A homebred lordling, who,
from the moment he slipped his mother’s apron-strings, had fallen
into folly.

1849. Macaulay, History of England, II., 649. He could not submit
to be tied to the apron-strings even of the best of wives.

Aqua, subs. (American thieves’).—Water. From the Latin.

Aqua Pompaginis, subs. phr. (old).—Pump water [Dog-Latin; from L., aqua, water + English, pump + simulated Latin termination, aginis].

1785. Grose, Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. Aqua Pompaginis....
Apothecaries’ Latin.

1839. Harrison Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard [1889], p. 13. ‘Exactly my
sentiments,’ rejoined Blueskin. ‘I wouldn’t force him for the
world; but if he don’t tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don’t
get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. Let’s have a look at the
kinchen that ought to have been throttled,’ added he, snatching the
child from Wood. ‘My stars! here’s a pretty lullaby-cheat to make a
fuss about—ho ho!’

1839. Harrison Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard [1889], p. 15. ‘He shall go
through the whole course,’ replied Blueskin, with a ferocious grin,
‘unless he comes down to the last grig. We’ll lather him with mud,
shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis.’

For synonyms, see Adam’s ale.

Aquatics, subs. (Eton college).—The particular game of cricket in which men in the boats play.

Aqua-Vitæ, subs. (old).—Formerly an alchemic term; but, after a while, popularly received as a generic name for ardent spirits, such as brandy, whiskey, etc. [From L. = water of life. Cf., French eau-de-vie, and Irish usquebaugh.]

Arabs, subs. (common).—Nicknames for young street vagrants are numerous. They are ‘Bedouins,’ ‘Street Arabs,’ and ‘Juvenile Roughs’ in London; they are ‘Gamins’ in Paris; ‘Bowery Boys’ in New York; ‘Hoodlums’ in San Francisco; and ‘Larrikins’ in Melbourne. This last phrase is an Irish constable’s broad pronunciation of ‘larking,’ applied to the nightly street performances of these young scamps, there, as elsewhere, a real social pestilence.—See Street Arab.

1848. Guthrie, Plea for Ragged Schools. [In this work the homeless
wanderers and children of the streets were spoken of as Arabs of
the City, and City Arabs.]

Arbor Vitæ, subs. (old).—The penis. [Latin; = the Tree of Life]. For synonyms, see Creamstick.

Arch.—See Ark.

Arch-Cove or Arch-Rogue, subs. (thieves’).—The chief or leader of a gang of thieves. [From Greek, archo to be first, to command, to rule + cove, a slang term for a man.] Formerly also dimber damber, upright man.—See Cove and Area sneak.

Archdeacon, subs. (Oxford Univ.).—Merton strong ale.

Arch-Dell or Arch-Doxy, subs. (old).—The wife or female companion of an arch-cove.—See Dell.

Archduke, subs. (old slang).—A buffoon; an eccentric person.

Arch Gonnof.—See Dimber damber.

Ard, adj. (American thieves’).—Hot; a corrupted form of ‘ardent.’ Formerly ‘a foot.’—See Creepers.

Area-Sneak, subs. (common).—A thief who lurks about areas for the purposes of theft.

1838. Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby, ch. lix., p. 480. ‘Why wasn’t I a
thief, swindler, housebreaker, area-sneak, robber of pence out of
the trays of blind man’s dogs?’

1869. English Mechanic, 14 May, p. 181, col. 1. [They] would
invariably become pickpockets or area-sneaks.

1883. Daily Telegraph, June 13, p. 7, col. 3. The area-sneak, too,
may find his occupation partially gone through the strictness of
the rules which encompass the trade of the second-hand dealer.

Among other names for thieves may be mentioned:—

English and American. Beak or beaker-hunter (a poultry thief); bug-hunter (speciality—breast pins, studs, etc.); buz-faker (a pickpocket); buttock and file (a shoplifter); bouncer (one who steals while bargaining with a tradesman; a shoplifter); bridle-cull (a highwayman); cracksman (a burglar); crossman (an old term. Literally a man ‘on the cross,’ or who gets his living surreptitiously); cross-cove (see foregoing); conveyancer (a pickpocket); dancer (a thief who gains entrance to houses from the roof); flash-cove (a sharper); flashman (a prostitute’s bully who pretends to catch the victim in flagrante delicto with his wife, and thus makes an excuse for robbery and extortion); finder (a thief who confines his depredations to meat-markets and butchers’ shops); gun (a contraction of gonnof, which see); gleaner, hooker, or angler (these are petty thieves, who work with hooks and rods); lob-sneak; lully-prigger (one who steals clothes when they are hanging out to dry); snakesman or sneaksman (a shoplifter; a petty thief); sneeze-lurker (this kind work by first blinding victims with pepper, etc.); moucher (a prowling thief); mill-ben (an old cant term, which see); prig; prop-nailer (a ‘prop’ is a scarf pin); palmer (a thief who ‘rings the changes’; but see under Palmer); pudding-snammer (an eating-house thief); drummer or drammer (these gentry stupify their victims prior to robbing them); stook-hauler (speciality—pocket-handkerchiefs); tooler (a pickpocket); toy-getter (a watch thief).

French Synonyms. Un droguiste (corresponds to the English ‘hawk’ or ‘rook’); un chêne affranchi (a ‘flash cove’); un careur, or voleur à la care (thief who robs money-changers while pretending to offer old coins for sale); un enfant de la matte (‘a child of folly.’—See Family man); un tiretaine (a country thief); un garçon de cambrouse (a highwayman); un garçon de campagne (same as example last quoted); un frère de la manicle; un philantrope (a peddlar’s term); un bonjourier or voleur au bonjour (an early morning thief, but see under Thieves); un philibert (of the sharper stamp); un philosophe (lit. ‘a philosopher’); un enfant de minuit (formerly, says Cotgrave, enfants de la messe de minuit, i.e., companions of the midnight mass, not for devotion, but for robbery and abuse); ramastiqueur (one who swindles by means of pocket-book dropping, etc.—a variety of the confidence trick); un jardinier, un Americain (‘confidence trick’ men); un tirebogue (a watch thief; in English slang a ‘toy-getter’); un friauche; un grinchisseur de bogues (a watch thief); un mion de boule (equivalent to the English ‘prig’); un fil de soie; un doubleur (= English ‘prig’; un doubleur de sorgue, ‘a night thief’); un voleur à la tire (a pickpocket); un tireur (a pickpocket; literally ‘one who draws out’); etc.

German Synonyms. Broschem-blatter; cochem (a thieves’ accomplice; from Hebrew chochem, wise, instructed); erntemackener (thieves who steal from houses while the owners are away harvesting. From erndte, harvest + machen, to make); anstiebler (one who plans robberies; an instigator to theft. A corrupted form of anstifter, an instigator); achbrosch (also achberosch, achperosch, achprosch, approsch, an infamous thief or robber, a rogue, a sharper. Not so much from the Chaldean achbero, a mouse + rosch, head, as from the passage Jer. Baba. Mez. 8., achberi reschii, i.e., ‘the mice are vile.’ Hence applied primarily to a notorious thief. Thiele says the expressions have not been so much in use since the suppression of the famous Rhenish robber gang; the words, however, particularly achbrosch, are not by any means obsolete, being very much in use by cattle and horsedealers, and sharpers generally); ganof (Hebrew, ‘a thief’; from gonaw, ‘to steal’); achelpeter (an inactive lazy old thief who sponges upon his confederates. From Hebrew ochal, to eat + putzen, from O.H.G., bizan, pizzan, ‘food’); golehopser (a thief who jumps on a loaded cart or other vehicle whilst in motion to steal boxes or small packages. In English slang this kind of thief is called a ‘dragsman’); goleschàchter (the same as preceding, but instead of making off bodily with the booty, the packages are cut open, and the contents thrown down for an accomplice to secure); bihengst (a thief who steals bees); baldower (a principal, or leader of a gang of thieves; one who advises and plans robberies. Balhoche is also a man who has an opportunity for theft; balspiess, the host of an inn, frequented by thieves and rogues); brenner (a thief who preys upon others of his kind, by demanding, under threats of exposure, a share of a successful robbery, without having taken part in it. From brennen, ‘to claim’; literally ‘to burn’; or it may be from berennen, ‘to run against or blockade’); chalfan (also chalfen, chalfener, chilfer, legitimately ‘a money changer,’ but amongst German thieves the name of the rogue who, in changing money, commits theft. Cf., English, ‘ringing the changes’); chawer (Hebrew: literally an associate; chaweress [fem.], a thief’s confederate; a comrade. Chawrusse, kabruse, a gang or confederation of thieves; chawrusse melochenen, to form a gang of thieves; chenneter, a thief who knows how to conduct himself with tact and address in good society. From the Hebrew chono, gentle, kind, affable); chessenspiess, fem., chessenspiesse (the landlord or mistress of an inn frequented by thieves—a place where they may find refuge without fear of discovery. From the Hebrew); chechom (also chochem, chochemer,—more frequently spelled with ‘K’—from the Hebrew, the wise one. A prudent, cunning thief. Chochem lehorre, a dangerous thief, one prepared for the worst; of a similar meaning is chochem mechutten, a dangerous companion, a rogue of the worst type); bahnherr (also bohnherr and Herr by itself: literally ‘a road-master’; a burglar—one who prepares a robbery); diffler (a thoroughly dexterous thief; from tupfel, ‘a point’); drängler (a thief, who, to divert the attention of people from his intention, causes a crowd to assemble); paddendrücker (a pickpocket—one whose speciality is purses: drücker is a corrupted form of trecken, ‘to draw’ or ‘steal’ quickly and adroitly. Drücker, like drücken, ‘to steal’ is never used by itself, but always with the object of the theft; hence paddendrücker, a purse thief; luppendrücker, a watch thief; torfdrücker, a generic name for a pickpocket); eintreiber (a confederate who entices a victim to play so that his comrade may swindle him); erefschieber (a thief who goes out at evening time to commit robberies. Also erefhalchener, erefgänger, erefhändler. Eref = evening); fichtegänger (a night thief or burglar); fiesel (supposed to be derived from faser, ‘a birch,’ ‘rod,’ or ‘fibre.’ In Vienna, the scum of society is meant by fiesel—the commonest thief, professional vagabond, a protector of brothels and whores of the most repulsive kind. These thieves are of great daring, utterly unscrupulous, and are consequently much dreaded. Some feign to carry on the business of a rag and bone-picker, what in the fiesellange or Viennese thieves’ lingo is termed, ‘going out for profit.’ In the sense of ‘a rod,’ fiesel is applied to the membrum genitale masculi; hence fiesel as synonymous with strength, i.e., pertaining to the stronger sex. It was formerly used in connection with many other words; e.g., mädchenfiesel, ‘one who habitually runs after women,’ ‘a molrower,’ a ‘loose fish.’ Fiesel-language means the language of the strong, of those belonging to the fellowship of thieves, burglars, and rowdies); freikäufer (a thief whose speciality it is to steal at fairs and markets); freischupper (a card sharper; a gambling cheat who carries on his business in crowded places of public resort); gacheler (also gachler, gackler, kachler, kakler, kegler: a pantry thief; one who steals eatables and plate from kitchens whilst servants are attending at table); gannew (from Hebrew gonaw, ‘to steal’); gaslan (from Hebrew gosal, ‘to rob’); glitscher (gypsy: glitschin, ‘the key’: a thief who works by means of skeleton keys); godler chochem (from Hebrew godol, great, strong, celebrated + Hebrew chochem, the wise one; hence, a clever rogue, a thief who thoroughly understands his business); goi gomur (an utterly unreliable confederate. Goi, plural gojim is applied to those not Jews, to Christians; in the plural, especially, in the sense of ignorant people, suspicious or two-faced characters; also used as a synonym for Philistine—a man of whom one has to be careful. Goje [fem.] is almost always used contemptuously for a female); götte (also götti, göde, göttling [O.H.G., gataling] a confederate, a relative—especially used to denote one who has been doing good business); gutenmorgenwünscher (literally ‘good morning wisher’: thieves who break into rooms early in the morning for purposes of robbery. The French have an analogous expression in bonjourier, or voleur au bon jour). For other synonyms, see Thieves.

Italian Synonyms (Fourbesque). Quadro (a cut-purse. In the Germania or Spanish argot, quadro is used in the sense of ‘a poignard,’ and quadrata in that of ‘purse.’ Possibly the Fourbesque quadro is derived from one of these words. In Italian it is literally ‘a square’ or ‘a rule’); granchetto (also ‘one who speaks gibberish’); lavorante di scarpe (a pickpocket or cut-purse: lit. ‘working shoes’); camuffo; fiadetto (also ‘a dolt,’ ‘a duffer’); carpione; truccante (also ‘a beggar’).

Spanish Synonyms (Germania). Aquila (a sharper: lit. ‘an eagle’); bolador (thought to be derived from the French voleur); comendadores de bola (thieves who work principally at fairs and markets); gerifalte (lit. ‘a gerfalcon’—one of the ‘hawk’ species); lince (lit. ‘a lynx.’ This class of thief varies robbery with begging); piloto (a thief who directs others to the place of rendezvous, i.e., where a robbery has been planned; lit. ‘a pilot’); trabajar (lit. ‘a traveller’).—See Thieves.

Portuguese Synonyms (Calão). Pai (a captain of thieves—an Aaron or arch-cove); maguino (a highwayman).

For exhaustive and comparative description of all classes of thieves, both English and foreign, see Thieves—their names and methods.

Arf, adj. (vulgarism).—Half; e.g., ‘’arf an ’our,’ i.e., half an hour.

’Arf and ’arf.—See Four-half.

Argal.—See Argol-bargol.

Argol-Bargol, subs. and verb. (old).—Argol, sometimes argal, is a corrupt pronunciation of Latin ergo, therefore; hence, from that word being frequently used in conversation, a clumsy, unsound piece of reasoning or cavilling; and verbally, to bandy words. Hotten says argol-bargol is Scotch, but argal is found in Hamlet, v. i., and the fuller form is probably onomatopoetic like ‘shilly-shally,’ ‘hocus-pocus,’ etc., unless it comes from the Hebrew through the Yiddish bar-len ‘to talk or speak’ [anyhow].

1596. Shakspear, Hamlet v. i., 21., 1st Clown. Here lies the water;
good: here stands the man; good: If the man go to this water, it
is, will he, nil he, he goes; mark you that: but if the water come
to him, he drowns not himself: argal, he that is not guilty of his
own death, shortens not his own life.

1823. J. Galt, The Entail, i., 53. ‘Weel, weel,’ said the laird,
‘dinna let us argol-bargol about it; entail your own property as ye
will, mine shall be on the second son.’

1861. Times, 23 Aug. Mr. Buckle’s argument [is] as absurd an argal
as ever was invented by philosopher or gravedigger. [M.]

Argol-Bargolous, adj. (old).—Quarrelsome.—See Argol-bargol.

1822. J. Galt, The Provost, p. 194. No doubt his argol-bargolous
disposition was an inheritance accumulated with his other conquest
of wealth from the mannerless Yankees.

Argufy, verb. (vulgar).—A corrupted form of ‘to argue,’ usually associated with cavilling or a bandying of words; also, ‘to signify’; e.g., ‘It doesn’t much argufy.’

1758. A. Murphy, The Upholsterer, Act i. Well, it does not signify
argifying.

1837. Lytton, Ernest Maltravers, bk. IV., ch. vii. ‘Lord! how I
should like to have you on the roadside instead of within these
four gimcrack walls. Ha! ha! the argufying would be all in my
favour then.’

Aristippus, subs. (old).—1. A diet drink or decoction of sarsaparilla and other drugs, sold at the coffee-houses, and drank as tea.—Grose.

2. Also a cant name for canary wine.

1627. (circa) Middleton, Wks. (Halliwell), II., 422. Rich
aristippus, sparkling sherry.

Arkansas Toothpick, subs. (American).—A grimly facetious name for a folding bowie knife of large dimensions.