Thunder-Plump

I was caught yesterday in a thunder-plump, which is the correct term for a sudden delugian downpour accompanied by thunder. A thunder-plump tends to be preceded by thunder-drops which are the large, scattered raindrops that tell you that the weather is about to kick off something rotten.

Neither of these should be confused with a thunder-mug, which is an old term for a chamber pot.

Anyway, I dived for protection into a second-hand bookshop and came out with an Arden edition of The Two Gentlemen of Verona. So here, for no other reason than that it's the best speech in the play, is how to tell if somebody is in love:

VALENTINE Why, how know you that I am in love?


SPEED Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.

Welcome to London