I hope all this will not make me a coxcomb.
"Stories of Authors, British and American" by Edwin Watts Chubb
Was there no one to give a slap in the face to this coxcomb from the prison?
"The Dead Command" by Vicente Blasco Ibáñez
Why you whore-son coxcombe, said the lord, canst thou not dig the pit deepe enough and bury all together?
"The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, Vol. I, No. 6, June 1810" by Various
I see nothing in the Times but a Company of Coxcombs that fear without a Cause.
"The Works of Aphra Behn" by Aphra Behn
Some coxcomb she must have seen in the convent parlor.
"The Regent's Daughter" by Alexandre Dumas (Pere)
We are not savants, coxcombs, fops!
"Madame Bovary" by Gustave Flaubert
But let not the reader suppose that he was either a superannuated coxcomb or a driveling dotard.
"City Crimes" by Greenhorn
No one could call him a coxcomb, yet he, not aware of the real cause of your interest, might be over-flattered.
"Robert Orange" by John Oliver Hobbes
BLOUNT: Come along, Sir Coxcomb, your gay mantle will need the brush today, I wot.
"History Plays for the Grammar Grades" by Mary Ella Lyng
When he has mended what Fluellen calls his 'ploody coxcomb,' he will take out a summons against me for assault.
"The Belovéd Vagabond" by William J. Locke
In that low bed of coxcomb flowers
Beneath her window-sill,
Her chamber-window, where he warms
Homeward my spirit still;
"The Yellow Butterfly" by Manmohan Ghose
But know, my soul disdain'd thy sway,
And scorns thy charms and thee,
To which each fluttering coxcomb may
As welcome be as me.
"Songs Set To Music: 15. Set" by Matthew Prior
Again thou'lt smile, and blushing shun
Some coxcomb's raillery;
Nor own for once thou thought'st on one,
Who ever thinks on thee.
"Stanzas Composed During A Thunderstorm" by Lord George Gordon Byron
Imperious coxcomb! is your stomach vexed?
Pray slack your rage, and hearken what comes next:
I have a writ to take you up; therefore,
To chafe your blood, I bid you stand, once more.
"A Dialogue Betwixt An Exciseman And Death" by Anonymous British
You miss the fine and secret art
To win the castle of the heart,
For which you all contend;
The coxcomb tribe may crowd your train,
But you will never, never gain
A lover, or a friend.
"Ode to Women" by John Logan
As a boy, reserved and naughty;
As a youth, a coxcomb and haughty;
As a man, for action inclined;
As a greybeard, fickle in mind.—
Upon thy grave will people read:
This was a very man, indeed!
"Epitaph" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe