Doxy

She is a doxy.

He did not relish the apparition of that Katherine, for when it appeared it seemed to bring with it a brother shadow that wore ragged clothes and tangled hair and foul linen, that drank from any flagon and drabbed with any doxy, that slept in tavern angles through hours of drunkenness, a thing whose fingers pillaged, filched, and pilfered when and where they could, a creature that once he saw whenever he stared into a mirror.

Do you think the writer of Antony and Cleopatra, a passionate pilgrim, had his eyes in the back of his head that he chose the ugliest doxy in all Warwickshire to lie withal?

However, terrible as it may seem to the tall maiden sisters of J.P.'s in Queen Anne houses with walled vegetable gardens, this courtesan, strumpet, harlot, whore, punk, fille de joie, street-walker, this trollop, this trull, this baggage, this hussy, this drab, skit, rig, quean, mopsy, demirep, demimondaine, this wanton, this fornicatress, this doxy, this concubine, this frail sister, this poor Queenie—did actually solicit me, did actually say 'coming home to-night, dearie' and my soul was not blasted enough to call a policeman.

So then, of course, he paid her in kind...the place is full of his doxies, open a closet at Allington and some wench falls out of it.

Orthodoxy is my doxy; heterodoxy is another man's doxy.

I know one patient who couldn't take the tabs but could tolerate liquid doxy.

"Yeah, but she doesn't usually actively sabotage you." "No worries. I'm used to doxy fairies"

The doxies were everywhere. So he just kept swinging, feeling a shudder through his arm each time the racquet made contact with a scaly body. Despite his best efforts, two or three of the nasty, screeching things got close.

"And I'm a doxy not a fairy, you complete and utter fuckface."