she seized his shoulders, and shook him till the poor child waxed livid,
Emily Brontë. Wuthering Heights (1847)
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before she did see him again his features had waxed so dim in her memory that she did not recognise him.
Emily Brontë. Wuthering Heights (1847)
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They growled and barked like detestable dogs, mewed, and flapped their arms and crowed. It was all very silly, he knew; but therefore the more outrage to his dignity, and his anger waxed and waxed.
Jack London. The Call of the Wild (1903)
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My imagination, sternly checked by the exigencies of my profession, waxed secretly to colossal force.
Agatha Christie. And Then There Were None. pp.195-6 (1939)
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glancing timidly at Father Arnall's dark face, saw that it was a little red from the wax he was in
James Joyce. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man