I finally reached the back page of the TLS from August 7 of last year (I just resubscribed to the NYRB so I’ll have something to read in 2018), and there was a brief mention of what sounds like a dreadful book about the Bard, prefaced with the following paragraph cobbled together from “words said to have been coined by Shakespeare”:
Attaskt with bringing obscure words back into use, we begnawed the matter, scratching our bubukles as we did so. Fellow researchers congreed that the conspectuity was immoment. Incorpsing our plantage in a mistempered account book, we were rewarded with oppugnancy, against which we offered no propugnation. Reprobance has seldom made us so rubious.
Now, that’s what I call fun with words. (Bubukle, if you’re curious, is Fluellen’s conflation of bubo and carbuncle; I leave the rest to research and/or imagination.)
Rubious presumably means “given to repeatedly reciting rehearsed sound bites”.
First, we must dispel with the notion that you don’t know what you’re saying. You know exactly what you’re saying!
Ha, I just got it now!
A doobieous view (or battle).
Rubious presumably means “given to repeatedly reciting rehearsed sound bites”.
We must first dispense with the notion that this has anything to do with Hagrid. He at least did nothing of the sort.
(And before you protest that the spelling is wrong, know that I insult you.)