Fling

'T is Fate that flings the dice: and, as she flings,
Of kings makes peasants, and of peasants kings.

He . . . like Jove, his lighting flung.

I know thy generous temper well.
Fling but the appearance of dishonor on it,
It straight takes fire.

The sun begins to fling
His flaring beams.

Every beam new transient colors flings.

His horse started, flung him, and fell upon him.

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition.

This question so flung down before the guests, . . .
Was handed over by consent of all
To me who had not spoken.

And crop-full, out of doors he flings.

I flung closer to his breast,
As sword that, after battle, flings to sheath.

I, who love to have a fling,
Both at senate house and king.

England were but a fling
Save for the crooked stick and the gray goose wing.