"Cozen" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... snares the Infant's steps to trip, And catch the Minor in their harpy grip. To his Twelve Labours, against monsters grim, Who might have lived in safety but for him, To snare, to slay, to humbug, and to cozen, Herschelles, just to make a baker's dozen, Adds a Thirteenth! A wily, wicked wight, Dwelling in noxious nooks as dark as night, Beyond the radius of the housemaid's broom, And thence dispensing dire disgrace and doom Long time our homes hath ...
— Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, April 2, 1892 • Various
... necessary instinct of nature, estimate their good name beyond any of their goods—yea, do commonly hold it more dear and precious than their very lives—we, by violently or fraudulently bereaving them of it, do them no less wrong than if we should rob or cozen them of their substance; yea, than if we should maim their body, or spill their blood, or even stop their breath. If they as grievously feel it, and resent it as deeply, as they do any other outrage, the injury is really as great, to them. Even ...
— Sermons on Evil-Speaking • Isaac Barrow
... shortly, "I don't trouble to defy you. I laugh at you—the whole lot of you who come to cozen me with party promises. So long as I spoke your speech and did your bidding I might have the senatorship for the asking. I was honest Nick Burr, though I might belie my convictions at every step. So long as I wore ...
— The Voice of the People • Ellen Glasgow
... A young wing yet. Bold—overbold on the perch, but, think you, Ferdinand, He can endure the tall skies yonder? Cozen Advantage out of the teeth of the hurricane? Choose his own mate against the lammer-geier? Ride out a night-long tempest, hold his pitch Between the lightning and the cloud it leaps from, Never too ...
— Songs from Books • Rudyard Kipling
... you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes ... ... ... ... What devil was't That thus cozen'd you at hoodman-blind? Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, Or but a sickly part of one true sense Could not so mope. O, shame! ...
— The Man Shakespeare • Frank Harris
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