1824. HOOK, Sayings and Doings, 1st S. Merton, ch. xiii. Ould Mrs. Etherington was a right bad one; she used to be LORD, HOW COME YOU SO! every night, as regular as she went to bed.
HOW MUCH? phr. (common).—‘What do you say?’ ‘What do you mean?’ What price?—a general request for explanations.
1862. F. E. SMEDLEY, Lewis Arundel, ch. xxxiv. ‘Then my answer must mainly depend on the exact height of the principles.’ ‘On the HOW MUCH? inquired Frere, considerably mystified.
HOW ARE YOU OFF FOR SOAP, phr. (old).—A street catch.
1833. MARRYAT, Peter Simple, I. iv. Well, Reefer, HOW ARE YOU OFF FOR SOAP?
1842. Punch, ii., 94, c. 2. Walker! HOW ARE YOU OFF FOR SOAP?
HOW THE BLAZES. See BLAZES.
HOW IS THAT FOR HIGH. See HIGH.
HOW’S YOUR POOR FEET, phr. (streets’).—A street catch, of no particular meaning. See STREET CRIES.
1863. All the Year Round, x., 180. HOW’S YOUR POOR FEET? a year ago cheated half the natives of Cockaigne into the belief that they were gifted with a special genius for repartee.
1863. G. A. SALA, Breakfast in Bed, p. 163 (1864). But how would you like a screeching multitude, fifty thousand strong, and with not one of whom, to the best of your knowledge, you had even a bowing acquaintance, to vociferate in your track—in the public street, mind—‘Ya-a-a-h! HOW ARE YOUR POOR FEET?’
1890. Town and Country (Sydney), 11 Jan., p. 19, c. 4. Henry Irving’s revival of ‘The Dead Heart’ has revived a bit of slang…. When the play was brought out originally, where one of the characters says, ‘My heart is dead, dead, dead!’ a voice from the gallery nearly broke up the drama with HOW ARE YOUR POOR FEET? The phrase lived.
HOW’LL YOU HAVE IT, phr. (common).—An invitation to drink. For synonyms, see DRINKS.
HOW WE APPLES SWIM (sometimes amplified by QUOTH THE HORSE-TURD)! verb. phr. (old).—Said in derision of a parvenu; of a person in better company than he (or she) has any right to keep; or of a pretender to honour or credit he (or she) does not deserve.
1670. RAY, Proverbs, s.v.
1733. D. MALLET, Tyburn.
| While tumbling down the turbid stream, | |
| Lord love us, HOW WE APPLES SWIM! |
1873. J. IRELAND and J. NICHOLS, Hogarth (London, 1875), III. 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.’
