How to use a word that literally drives some people nuts. The awkward case of 'his or her'. Test your knowledge of words related to the season of longer days and vacations. Test your visual vocabulary with our question challenge! Regulus biographical name. Marcus Atilius died circa b. Roman general. First Known Use of regulus Noun , in the meaning defined at sense 1. History and Etymology for regulus Noun New Latin, from Latin, petty king, from reg-, rex king — more at royal. Learn More about regulus. Resources for regulus Time Traveler!
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Dictionary Entries near regulus regulator pin regulatory gene reguline regulus Regulus regur regurge. Statistics for regulus Look-up Popularity. Time Traveler for regulus The first known use of regulus was in See more words from the same year. More from Merriam-Webster on regulus Britannica. Comments on regulus What made you want to look up regulus? Then to Beetle the much-enduring man addressed winged words:.
Observing next, your companion's fall, from the presumed security of your undistinguished position in the rear-guard, you took another pot-shot. The turbid chaos of your mind threw up some memory of the word "dilapidations" which you have pitifully attempted to disguise under the synonym of "ruins. As this was precisely what Beetle had done he looked hurt but forgiving. Delubris happened to be the one word which Winton had not looked out and had asked Beetle for, when they were settling into their places.
He forged ahead with no further trouble. Only when he rendered scilicet as 'forsooth,' King erupted. It indicates contempt—bitter contempt. You'll be talking about "speckled beauties" and "eventually transpire" next. Howell, what do you make of that doubled "Vidi ego—ego vidi"? It wasn't put in to fill up the metre, you know. Regulus was in earnest.
He was also engaged at the same time in cutting his own throat with every word he uttered. He knew Carthage which your examiners won't ask you this so you needn't take notes was a sort of God-forsaken nigger Manchester. Regulus was not thinking about his own life. He was telling Rome the truth. He was playing for his side. Those lines from the eighteenth to the fortieth ought to be written in blood. Yet there are things in human garments which will tell you that Horace was a flaneur—a man about town.
Avoid such beings. Horace knew a very great deal. He knew! Erit ille fortis —"will he be brave who once to faithless foes has knelt? That means roughly—but I perceive I am ahead of my translators. Begin at hic unde , Vernon, and let us see if you have the spirit of Regulus. Even Beetle, most lenient of critics, was interested at this point, though he did not join the half-groan of reprobation from the wiser heads of the Form. He ploughed on thus: 'He Regulus is related to have removed from himself the kiss of the shameful wife and of his small children as less by the head, and, being stern, to have placed his virile visage on the ground.
Since King loved 'virile' about as much as he did 'spouse' or 'forsooth' the Form looked up hopefully. But Jove thundered not. He stopped, conscious of stillness round him like the dread calm of the typhoon's centre. King's opening voice was sweeter than honey. You will, therefore, Vernon, write out and bring to me to-morrow a word-for-word English-Latin translation of the Ode, together with a full list of all adjectives—an adjective is not a verb, Vernon, as the Lower Third will tell you—all adjectives, their number, case, and gender.
Even now I haven't begun to deal with you faithfully. You are possibly discomfited by the imposition, but sorrow postulates some sort of mind, intellect, nous. Your rendering of probrosis alone stamps you as lower than the beasts of the field. Will some one take the taste out of our mouths? And—talking of tastes —— ' He coughed. There was a distinct flavour of chlorine gas in the air.
Up went an eyebrow, though King knew perfectly well what it meant. I had forgotten. Our newly established Modern Side, of course. Perowne, open the windows; and Winton, go on once more from interque maerentes. But I got that out of Conington, sir,' he added in one conscientious breath. Can you suggest anything for egregius exul? Only "egregious exile"? I fear "egregious" is a good word ruined.
You can't in this case improve on Conington. Now then for atqui sciebat quae sibi barbarus tortorpararet. The whole force of it lies in the atqui. As I have said, Horace was not a journalist. No, I take it that his kinsmen bodily withstood his departure, whereas the crowd— populumque —the democracy stood about futilely pitying him and getting in the way. Now for that noblest of endings— quam si clientum , and King ran off into the quotation:. All right, Winton.
Regulus was not a feature of the landscape. He was a man, self-doomed to death by torture. Atqui sciebat —knowing it—having achieved it for his country's sake—can't you hear that atqui cut like a knife? That is why Horace out of the whole golden Latin tongue chose the one word "tendens"—which is utterly untranslatable. The gross injustice of being asked to translate it, converted Beetle into a young Christian martyr, till King buried his nose in his handkerchief again.
Vernon, what are you grinning at? Oh, I see. The same head that minted probrosis as a verb! Vernon, you are an enigma. This Side will not always be patient of unheavenly gases and waters. I will make representations to our so-called Moderns. Meantime who shall say I am not just? I remit you your accrued pains and penalties in regard to probrosim, probrosis, probrosit and other enormities. I oughtn't to do it, but this Side is occasionally human. By no means bad, Paddy.
Then Beetle, concertinaing his books, observed to Winton, 'When King's really on tap he's an interestin' dog. Hartopp's chlorine uncorked him. Look out, you hoof-handed old owl! Stalky from behind collared Winton low. The three fell in confusion. Don't be too virtuous. Don't brood over it. Cheer up, Pater. No one, the owner least of all, can explain what is in a growing boy's mind. It might have been the blind ferment of adolescence, Stalky's random remarks about virtue might have stirred him; like his betters he might have sought popularity by way of clowning; or, as the Head asserted years later, the only known jest of his serious life might have worked on him, as a sober-sided man's one love colours and dislocates all his after days.
But, at the next lesson, mechanical drawing with Mr. The whole form, shrieking and leaping high, threw at it all the plaster cones, pyramids, and fruit in high relief—not to mention ink-pots—that they could lay hands on. Lidgett reported at once to the Head; Winton owned up to his crime, which, venial in the Upper Third, pardonable at a price in the Lower Fourth, was, of course, rank ruffianism on the part of a Fifth Form boy; and so, by graduated stages, he arrived at the Head's study just before lunch, penitent, perturbed, annoyed with himself and—as the Head said to King in the corridor after the meal—more human than he had known him in seven years.
So this comes very happily. Winton was in King's House, and though King as pro-consul might, and did, infernally oppress his own Province, once a black and yellow cap was in trouble at the hands of the Imperial authority King fought for him to the very last steps of Caesar's throne. King did not love Mr.
But—but—I hate to plead it—it's the lad's first offence. What is the penalty? You cannot write out the Head's usual few which means five hundred Latin lines and play football for one hour and three-quarters between the hours of 1. Winton had evidently no intention of trying to do so, for he hung about the corridor with a set face and an uneasy foot. Yet it was law in the school, compared with which that of the Medes and Persians was no more than a non-committal resolution, that any boy, outside the First Fifteen, who missed his football for any reason whatever, and had not a written excuse, duly signed by competent authority to explain his absence, would receive not less than three strokes with a ground-ash from the Captain of the Games, generally a youth between seventeen and eighteen years, rarely under eleven stone 'Pot' was nearer thirteen , and always in hard condition.
He has played for it all this term,' said King. Officially, therefore, he is naught. I rely on old Pot.
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Lidgett, and added, for he was a kindly man, 'I think that shows quite right feeling. I'll tell the Head at once I'm satisfied. I—I did it on principle. Please don't—er—do anything of that kind.
Lidgett looked him up and down and, being an artist, understood. An hour later, King wandered into his still form-room as though by accident. Winton was hard at work. Don't let me arrest your facile pen. Whence this sudden love for Virgil? That was a lapse on your part into Lower Thirdery which I don't quite understand.
The 'tump-tump' of the puntabouts before the sides settled to games came through the open window. Winton like his House-master, loved fresh air. Winton wrote steadily. King curled himself up on a desk, hands round knees. One would have said that the man was gloating over the boy's misfortune, but the boy understood. I do wish you'd tried that mouse-game with me, Pater. Winton grinned; then sobered. Hand me the Mantuan and I'll dictate. No matter. Any rich Virgilian measures will serve. I may peradventure recall a few.
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For the next forty minutes, with never a glance at the book, King paid out the glorious hexameters and King could read Latin as though it were alive , Winton hauling them in and coiling them away behind him as trimmers in a telegraph-ship's hold coil away deep-sea cable. He did not allude to the coming interview with Mullins except at the last, when he said, 'I think at this juncture, Pater, I need not ask you for the precise significance of atqui sciebat quae sibi barbarus tortor.
The ungrateful Winton flushed angrily, and King loafed out to take five o'clock call-over, after which he invited little Hartopp to tea and a talk on chlorine-gas. Hartopp accepted the challenge like a bantam, and the two went up to King's study about the same time as Winton returned to the form-room beneath it to finish his lines. Then half a dozen of the Second Fifteen who should have been washing strolled in to condole with 'Pater' Winton, whose misfortune and its consequences were common talk. No one was more sincere than the long, red-headed, knotty-knuckled 'Paddy' Vernon, but, being a careless animal, he joggled Winton's desk.
No one is expected to be polite while under punishment, so Vernon, sinking his sub-prefectship, replied peacefully enough:. Why don't you go to your own study? That's the way I did in my youth. Pater's revertin' to his second childhood. Never mind, Pater, we all respect you and your future caree-ah. Winton, still writhing, growled. Vernon leaning on the desk somehow shook it again. Then he laughed. I swear I don't think it's fair. You've never shirked a game in your life, and you're as good as in the First Fifteen already.
Your Cap ought to have been delivered last week, oughtn't it? It was law in the school that no man could by any means enjoy the privileges and immunities of the First Fifteen till the black velvet cap with the gold tassel, made by dilatory Exeter outfitters, had been actually set on his head. Ages ago, a large-built and unruly Second Fifteen had attempted to change this law, but the prefects of that age were still larger, and the lively experiment had never been repeated.
A Diversity of Creatures/Regulus
The form-room was as silent as the empty field in the darkness outside. Vernon shifted his feet uneasily. No decencies were observed on either side, and the rest looked on amazed. The two met confusedly, Vernon trying to do what he could with his longer reach; Winton, insensible to blows, only concerned to drive his enemy into a corner and batter him to pulp.
This he managed over against the fireplace, where Vernon dropped half-stunned. If you move, I'll chuck you out of the window. He fought them crazily in an awful hissing silence. Stalky's sensitive nose was rubbed along the floor; Beetle received a jolt in the wind that sent him whistling and crowing against the wall; Perowne's forehead was cut, and Malpass came out with an eye that explained itself like a dying rainbow through a whole week. Quite mad! The mound on the floor panted and heaved but did not rise, for Winton still squirmed vengefully.
You, I presume, are the populus delaying Winton's return to—Mullins, eh? You see, some of it sticks after all,' King chuckled to Hartopp, and the two masters left without further inquiries. I'm awfully sorry,' Winton began, and they let him rise.
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