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Humble: Quotations from Shakespearian Quotations

Stoop, boys: this gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you To morning's holy office: The gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high, that giants jet through And keep their impious turbans on, without Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i'the rock, yet use thee not so hardly— Cym. iii. 3

As prouder livers do.

Halter

A halter, gratis; nothing else, for God's sake. M. V. iv.

Hand

O, that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink, Writing their own reproach; To whose soft seizure The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense— T.C. i. 1

Hard as the palm of ploughmen.

Hanger-On

O Lord! he will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs pre-— M. A. i. 1.