英语词源字典 - 在线词源网站

admonish: admonish: [14] In Middle English times this verb was amoneste. It came, via Old French amonester, from an assumed Vulgar Latin verb *admonestāre, an alteration of Latin admonēre (monēre meant ‘warn’, and came from the same source as English mind). The prefix ad- was reintroduced from Latin in the 15th century, while the -ish ending arose from a mistaken analysis of -este as some sort of past tense inflection; the t was removed when producing infinitive or present tense forms, giving spellings such as amonace and admonyss, and by the 16th century this final -is had become identified with and transformed into the more common -ish ending.
=> mind
alder: alder: [OE] Alder is an ancient tree-name, represented in several other Indo-European languages, including German erle, Dutch els, Polish olcha, Russian ol’khá, and Latin alnus (which is the genus name of the alder in scientific classification). Alder is clearly the odd man out amongst all these forms in having a d, but it was not always so; the Old English word was alor, and the intrusive d does not begin to appear until the 14th century (it acts as a sort of connecting or glide consonant between the l and the following vowel, in much the same way as Old English thunor adopted a d to become thunder). The place-name Aldershot is based on the tree alder.
alderman: alderman: [OE] Alderman preserves the notion that those who are old (the ‘elders’) are automatically in charge. In Anglo-Saxon England the ealdor was the chief of a family or clan, by virtue of seniority (the word is based on the adjective eald ‘old’). Alderman (Old English ealdorman) was a political title or rank adopted probably in the early 8th century for someone who exercised in society at large an authority equivalent to that of the ealdor.

In effect, this meant that an alderman acted as a sort of viceroy to the king in a particular district. In the 12th century the title became applied to the governor of a guild, and as the guilds gradually took over some functions of local government, an alderman became a senior councillor. The title was officially abolished in Britain in 1974.
=> old
anorak: anorak: [20] This was originally a word in the Inuit language of Greenland: annoraaq. It came into English in the 1920s, by way of Danish. At first it was used only to refer to the sort of garments worn by Eskimos, but by the 1930s it was being applied to a waterproof hooded coat made in imitation of these. In Britain, such jackets came to be associated with the sort of socially inept obsessives who stereotypically pursue such hobbies as train-spotting and computer-gaming, and by the early 1980s the term ‘anorak’ was being contemptuously applied to them.
antimony: antimony: [15] Antimony, from medieval Latin antimōnium, was used by alchemists of the Middle Ages for ‘stibnite’, the mineral from which antimony is obtained, and for ‘stibium’, or ‘black antimony’, a heated and powdered version of the mineral used for eye make-up. The element antimony itself was first described in the late 18th century, when it was called regulus of antimony; the British chemist Humphry Davy appears to have been the first to apply the simple term antimony to it, in 1812.

The ultimate origins of the word antimony are obscure, but attempts have been made to link it with Latin stibium (source of Somebody, the chemical symbol for antimony). It has been speculated that Latin antimōnium may have been a modification of Arabic ithmid, which was perhaps borrowed from Greek stimmi or stíbi (source of Latin stibium).

This in turn has been conjecturally traced back to an Egyptian word stm, which was used for a sort of powder applied to the eyelids as make-up.
archipelago: archipelago: [16] Originally, archipelago was a quite specific term – it was the name of the Aegean Sea, the sea between Greece and Turkey. Derivationally, it is a compound formed in Greek from arkhi- ‘chief’ and pélagos ‘sea’ (source of English pelagic [17] and probably related to plain, placate, and please). The term ‘chief sea’ identified the Aegean, as contrasted with all the smaller lagoons, lakes, and inlets to which the word pélagos was also applied.

An ‘Englished’ form of the word, Arch-sea, was in use in the 17th century, and in sailors’ jargon it was often abbreviated to Arches: ‘An island called Augusto near Paros, in the Arches’, Sir T Roe, Negotiations 1626. A leading characteristic of the Aegean Sea is of course that it contains a large number of islands, and from the 16th century onwards we see a strong and steady move towards what is now the word’s main meaning, ‘large group of islands’.

The immediate source of the English word was Italian arcipelago, and some etymologists have speculated that rather than coming directly from Greek arkhipélagos, this may have been a sort of folk-etymological resuscitation of it based on a misunderstanding of Greek Aigaion pelagos ‘Aegean Sea’.
=> pelagic
axe: axe: [OE] Relatives of the word axe are widespread throughout the Indo-European languages, from German axt and Dutch aaks to Latin ascia and Greek axínē. These point back to a hypothetical Indo-European *agwesī or *akusī, which denoted some sort of cutting or hewing tool. The Old English form was æx, and there is actually no historical justification for the modern British spelling axe, which first appeared in the late 14th century; as late as 1885 the Oxford English Dictionary made ax its main form, and it remains so in the USA.
bamboozle: bamboozle: [18] Bamboozle is a mystery word. It first appears in 1703, in the writings of the dramatist Colly Cibber, and seven years later it was one of a list of the latest buzzwords cited by Jonathan Swift in the Tatler (others included bully, mob, and sham). It is probably a ‘cant’ term (a sort of low-life argot), and may perhaps be of Scottish origin; there was a 17th-century Scottish verb bombaze ‘perplex’, which may be the same word as bombace, literally ‘padding, stuffing’, but metaphorically ‘inflated language’ (the variant form bombast has survived into modern English).
=> bombast
bass: bass: Bass the fish [15] and bass the musical term [15] are of course completely unrelated words, with different pronunciations. Bass meaning ‘of the lowest register’ is simply a modified spelling of the adjective base, under the influence of Italian basso. Related words are bassoon [18], from French basson, and basset-horn [19], a partial translation of Italian corno di bassetto, literally ‘bass horn’.

The bass is a spiny-finned fish, and it may be that its name is related to Old English byrst ‘bristle’. The Old English term for the fish was bærs, which survived dialectally until the 19th century in the form barse, and it is thought that it goes back to a Germanic base *bars- (source of German barsch); this may be cognate with *bors-, from which Old English byrst came.

In the 15th century, barse underwent some sort of phonetic mutation to produce bass.
=> base, bassoon
between: between: [OE] The second syllable of between is related to two and twin; the word as a whole seems to represent an original phrase meaning something like ‘by two each’. Old English betwēonum reflects a Germanic *twēon, reduced from an earlier *twikhnai; this represents the base *twīkh- (from which we get two) plus an -n suffix with apparently some sort of distributive function. The related betwixt comes ultimately from Germanic *twa ‘two’ and the element *-isk- ‘-ish’.
=> twin, two
bivouac: bivouac: [18] Bivouac appears to be of Swiss- German origin. The early 19th-century writer Stalder noted that the term beiwacht (bei ‘additional’ + wacht ‘guard’ – a relative of English watch and wake) was used in Aargau and Zürich for a sort of band of vigilantes who assisted the regular town guard. Beiwacht was borrowed into French as bivac, and came to English in a later form bivouac.

Its original application in English was to an army remaining on the alert during the night, to guard against surprise attack; in so doing, of course, the soldiers did not go to sleep in their tents, and from this the term bivouac spread to ‘improvised, temporary camp’, without the luxury of regular tents.
=> wake, watch
bless: bless: [OE] Bless occurs in no other language than English, and originally meant ‘mark with blood’, from some sort of religious rite in which such marking conferred sanctity. It probably goes back to a prehistoric Germanic formation *blōthisōjan, a derivative of *blōtham ‘blood’, which was taken up by no Germanic language other than Old English. Here it produced blētsian, which by the 13th century had become blesse. The word’s connotations of ‘happiness’ and ‘well-being’, which go back at least to the year 1000, were probably influenced by the etymologically unrelated bliss.
=> blood
blight: blight: [17] Blight appeared out of the blue in the early 17th century in agricultural and horticultural texts, and its origins are far from clear. It has, however, been speculated that it may be connected with the Old English words blǣce and blǣcthu, both terms for some sort of itchy skin condition such as scabies. These in turn are probably related to Old English blǣcan ‘bleach’, the link being the flaky whiteness of the infected skin.

In Middle English, blǣcthu would have become *bleht, which could plausibly have been the source of blight. A related piece in the jigsaw is blichening ‘blight or rust in corn’, found once in Middle English, which may have come ultimately from Old Norse blikna ‘become pale’.
=> bleach
blimp: blimp: [20] The original blimp was a sort of small non-rigid military airship used in World War I. Its name is said to have come from its official designation as ‘type B (limp)’ (as opposed to ‘type A (rigid)’). Its rotund flaccidity suggested it in 1934 to the cartoonist David Low (1891– 1963) as a name for a character he had invented, a fat pompous ex-army officer (in full, Colonel Blimp) who was always cholerically airing reactionary views. The British public evidently recognized the character as an all too common type, and his name became a generic one, to the extent of inspiring spin-offs such as blimpish.
bore: bore: Bore ‘make a hole’ [OE] and bore ‘be tiresome’ [18] are almost certainly two distinct words. The former comes ultimately from an Indo-European base *bhor-, *bhr-, which produced Latin forāre ‘bore’ (whence English foramen ‘small anatomical opening’), Greek phárynx, and prehistoric Germanic *borōn, from which we get bore (and German gets bohren). Bore connoting ‘tiresomeness’ suddenly appears on the scene as a sort of buzzword of the 1760s, from no known source; the explanation most commonly offered for its origin is that it is a figurative application of bore in the sense ‘pierce someone with ennui’, but that is not terribly convincing.

In its early noun use it meant what we would now call a ‘fit of boredom’. There is one other, rather rare English word bore – meaning ‘tidal wave in an estuary or river’ [17]. It may have come from Old Norse bára ‘wave’.
=> perforate, pharynx
borrow: borrow: [OE] Modern English borrow is a descendant of Old English borgian, which came from the Germanic base *borg-. This was a variant of *berg- (source of English barrow ‘mound’) and *burg- (source of English borough and bury). The underlying sense of the Germanic base was ‘protection, shelter’, and the development of meaning in the case of borrow seems to have been like this: originally, to borrow something from somebody was to receive it temporarily from them in return for some sort of security, which would be forfeited if the thing borrowed were not kept safe and eventually returned.

Gradually, the notion of giving some sort of concrete security, such as money, weakened into a spoken pledge, which by modern times had become simply the unspoken assumption that anything that has been borrowed must by definition be returned.
=> barrow, borough, bury
boxer: boxer: [15] Boxer is a much travelled word. In its original sense ‘fighter’ it comes of course from the verb box, the origins of which remain mysterious. German borrowed the name for a new breed of dog, a sort of elongated, more elegant version of a bulldog – presumably either in tribute to its supposed pugnaciousness or because its flattened nose looked like that of an unsuccessful boxer.

Then in the 1930s English acquired this new application back from German. The use of ‘Boxer’ for the Chinese rebels around the turn of the 20th century who attempted to drive out all foreigners is based on their Chinese name, yi hé quán, literally ‘righteous harmonious fists’.
brat: brat: [16] The origins of brat are not altogether clear, but it has plausibly been connected with the English dialect brat ‘makeshift or ragged garment’, as being the sort of apparel a rough or ill-mannered child might wear. This brat first appeared in late Old English as bratt, meaning ‘cloak’, a borrowing from Old Irish bratt ‘covering, mantle’.
brogue: brogue: [16] A brogue was originally a rudimentary sort of shoe worn in the more wild and woolly Celtic corners of the British Isles; the term does not seem to have been applied to today’s ‘stout country walking shoe’ until the early 20th century. The word, Irish and Scots Gaelic brōg, comes from Old Norse brók ‘leg covering’, which is related to English breeches; the relationship between ‘leg covering’ and ‘foot covering’ is fairly close, and indeed from the 17th to the 19th century brogue was used for ‘leggings’.

It is not clear whether brogue ‘Irish accent’ [18] is the same word; if it is, it presumably comes from some such notion as ‘the speech of those who wear brogues’.
=> breeches
buff: buff: [16] Buff originally meant ‘buffalo’; it was presumably an alteration of the French word buffe ‘buffalo’. That sense had died out by the early 18th century, but since then the word has undergone a bizarre series of semantic changes. First, it came to mean ‘leather’, originally from buffalo hides, but later from ox hides. This was commonly used in the 16th and 17th centuries for making military uniforms, so be in buff came to mean ‘be in the army’.

Then in the 17th century the associations of ‘hide’ and ‘skin’ led to the expression in the buff ‘naked’. The colour of buff leather, a sort of dull yellowish-brown, led to the word’s adoption in the 18th century as a colour term. In the 19th century, soft buff or suede leather was used for the small pads or wheels used by silversmiths, watchmakers, etc for polishing: hence the verb buff ‘polish’.

And finally, in the 1820s New York City volunteer firemen were known as ‘buffs’, from the colour of their uniforms; thus anyone who was a volunteer or enthusiastic for something became known as a buff (as in ‘film buff’). The buff of blind-man’s buff is a different word. It meant ‘blow, punch’, and was borrowed in the 15th century from Old French buffe, source also of English buffet ‘blow’ [13].

The term blind-man’s buff is first recorded around 1600, some what later than its now obsolete synonym hoodman blind.
=> buffalo, buffet
bugbear: bugbear: [16] Early references to bugbear suggest that it was a sort of bug – ‘frightening creature’ – conjured up to frighten naughty children. It is usually assumed that the second element of the word simply represents the animal ‘bear’, and that the frightening creature was represented as being in the shape of a bear. The modern sense ‘source of annoyance’ developed in the late 19th century.
build: build: [OE] In common with a wide range of other English words, including bower, booth, and the – bour of neighbour, build comes ultimately from the Germanic base *bū- ‘dwell’. A derivative of this, Germanic *buthlam, passed into Old English as bold, which meant ‘house’; the verb formed from this, byldan, thus originally meant ‘construct a house’, and only gradually broadened out in meaning to encompass any sort of structure.
=> boor, booth, bower, build, byre, neighbour
bulimia: bulimia: [19] The condition now called ‘bulimia’ – in which bouts of overeating are followed by bouts of purging – was recognized and so named in the 1970s. The word used to name it, however, is much more ancient than that. It goes back to Greek boulimia, which meant ‘ravenous hunger’ (it was formed from limos ‘hunger’, with the prefix bou-; this may well have been adapted from bous ‘ox’, in which case the word would have meant literally ‘the hunger of an ox’).

It originally came into English, via medieval Latin, in the late 14th century, and for many hundred years its standard form was bulimy. It was applied to a sort of hunger so extreme that it could be categorized as an illness.
bustard: bustard: [15] Bustard (the name of a large game bird now extinct in Britain) is something of a mystery word. Old French had two terms for the bird, bistarde and oustarde, both of which come from Latin avis tarda, literally ‘slow bird’ (Latin tardus gave English tardy [15]). This, according to the Roman writer Pliny, was what the bird was called in Spain.

It has been objected that the bustard can run quite fast, and that the name avis tarda must be some sort of folk-etymological alteration of a non-Latin word; but in fact the bird’s normal gait is a fairly slow and stately walk, so the term is not so far-fetched. The English word is presumably a blend of the two Old French ones, perhaps via an Anglo-Norman *bustarde.
=> tardy
cake: cake: [13] Originally, cake was a term for a flat round loaf of bread (it is this ‘shape’ element in its meaning that lies behind more modern usages such as ‘cake of soap’). It is not until the 15th century that we find it being applied to foodstuffs we would now recognize as cakes, made with butter, eggs, and some sort of sweetening agent. English borrowed the word from Old Norse kaka; it is related to cookie (from Dutch koekje), but not, despite the similarity, to cook. The expression piece of cake ‘something easy’ seems to have originated in the 1930s.
=> cookie
cameo: cameo: [15] The immediate source of modern English cameo was Italian cameo or cammeo. No one is too sure where it ultimately came from, but it has always been assumed that it had some sort of Oriental source – perhaps Arabic qamaā’īl ‘flower buds’. The original form of the word in English was cameu, which came from Old French camahieu; the Italianate cameo does not appear until the late 17th century.
carpet: carpet: [14] Originally, carpet was simply a sort of rough cloth, and medieval Latin carpīta, for example, was sometimes used for a garment made from it. In earliest English use it was a ‘table-cloth’ or ‘bed-spread’, and it was not until the 15th century that the specialized ‘floorcovering’ began to establish itself. The word itself entered English via either Old French carpite or medieval Latin carpīta, which was derived from carpīre, an alteration of Latin carpere ‘pluck’ (related to English harvest).

The underlying notion seems to be that such cloth was originally made from ‘plucked’ fabric, that is, fabric which had been unravelled or shredded.
catamaran: catamaran: [17] Catamaran is a word borrowed from the Tamil language of the southeast coast of India. It is a compound meaning literally ‘tied wood’, made up of kattu ‘tie’ and maram ‘wood, tree’. It was first recorded in English in William Dampier’s Voyages 1697: ‘The smaller sort of Bark-logs are more governable than the others … This sort of Floats are used in many places both in the East and West Indies. On the Coast of Coromandel … they call them Catamarans’.
chintz: chintz: [17] Chintz is originally an Indian word. English borrowed it from Hindi chīnt, and at first used it unaltered: Samuel Pepys, for instance, writing in his diary for 5 September 1663, notes ‘Bought my wife a chint, that is, a painted Indian calico, for to line her new study’. However, since in commercial use the plural form, chints, was so much commoner than the singular, it eventually came to be regarded as a singular itself, and the s-less form dropped out of the language.

In the 18th century, for some unexplained reason (perhaps on the analogy of such words as quartz) chints began to be spelled chintz. The Hindi word itself was originally an adjective, which came from Sanskrit chitra ‘many-coloured, bright’ (ultimate source of English chit ‘small piece of paper containing some sort of official notification’ [18]).
=> chit
coat: coat: [13] Coat seems originally to have signified a sort of short close-fitting cloth tunic with sleeves, worn by men. Over the centuries fashion has lengthened the garment, and its male exclusivity has disappeared (originally, as a woman’s garment a coat was a skirt, a sense preserved in petticoat). The word is of Germanic origin (it has been traced back to Frankish *kotta), but it reached English via Old French cote.
coffee: coffee: [16] The word coffee first reached us in a form which we would now recognize in the 17th century, probably via Italian caffè. It is ultimately, however, of Middle Eastern origin, and the earliest spellings recorded in English reflect this: chaoua, cauwa, kahue, cahve, etc are modelled closely on Turkish kahveh and its source, Arabic qahwah.

Where the Arabic word came from is not known for certain: probably it is based in some way on Kaffa, the name of an area in the south Abyssinian highlands from which the coffee tree is said to originate, but it has also been claimed to have signified originally some sort of wine. Café [19] comes of course from French café, whose source was Italian caffè. From the French word was derived caféine, from which English gets caffeine [19], while Spanish café produced cafetero ‘coffeeseller’, source of English cafeteria [20].
=> café, caffeine, cafeteria
deed poll: deed poll: [16] Contrary to what the term’s modern pronunciation might seem to suggest, with the main stress on its first element rather than its second, a deed poll is a sort of deed, not a sort of poll. It originally referred to a legal document made and signed by one person only. Such documents were drawn up on parchment cut evenly, or ‘polled’, rather than indented, as was the case with documents relating to two or more people.
denim: denim: [17] The name of the fabric from which jeans are made had its origins in a sort of serge produced in the southern French town of Nîmes. The French naturally enough called it serge de Nîmes, but the original meaning of this soon became lost when English borrowed it as serge de Nim, and the last two words came to be run together as denim.
diaphragm: diaphragm: [17] The etymological notion underlying diaphragm is of a sort of ‘fence’ or ‘partition’ within the body. It comes via late Latin diaphragma from Greek diáphragma. This in turn was a derivative of diaphrássein ‘divide off, barricade’, a compound verb formed from the intensive prefix dia- and phrássein ‘fence in, enclose’. Originally in Greek diáphragma was applied to other bodily partitions than that between the thorax and the abdomen – to the septum which divides the two nostrils, for instance.
doily: doily: [17] In the latter part of the 17th century a certain Mr Doily kept a celebrated draper’s shop in the Strand, London, not too far from where the Aldwych now is (‘The famous Doily is still fresh in every one’s Memory, who raised a Fortune by finding out Materials for such Stuffs as might be at once cheap and genteel’, Spectator 1712). He gave his name first to a sort of light fabric used for summer wear (‘Some Doily Petticoats and Manto’s we have’, John Dryden, Kind Keeper 1678) and then, early in the 18th century, to a variety of ornamental table napkin (‘After dinner we had coarse Doily-napkins, fringed at each end, upon the table to drink with’, Jonathan Swift, Journal to Stella 1711).
domino: domino: [18] The word domino was borrowed from French, where it originally signified (in the 16th century) a sort of hooded cloak worn by priests. It presumably represents a form of Latin dominus ‘lord, master’, but the reason for the application has never been satisfactorily explained (one suggestion is that it comes from the ritual formula benedicamus Domino ‘let us bless the Lord’).

By the time English acquired it, it had come to mean ‘hooded cloak with a halfmask, worn at masquerades’, and by the 19th century it was being used for the mask itself. It is far from clear whether the application to the game played with small rectangular blocks, which dates in English from the 19th century, represents a new use of the same word or a return to the original Latin, but either way the reason behind the usage is not known.

A possibility that has been advanced is that the winner of the game originally shouted domino! ‘lord!’.
dote: dote: [13] English may have borrowed dote from Middle Dutch doten ‘be silly’, but its ultimate origins are not known. To begin with it meant ‘be silly’ in English too (a sense now mainly preserved in its various derivatives), and ‘show excessive fondness’ did not develop until the 15th century. Related forms include dotage [14], where the notion of ‘simple-mindedness due to senility’ (implicit in the verb from earliest times) has passed to simply ‘senility’; dotterel [15], the name of a sort of plover, supposedly so called because it was foolish enough to allow itself to get caught; and dotty [19], an alteration of Scottish English dottle ‘fool’, which was a derivative of dote.
=> dotage, dotterel, dotty
drake: drake: English has two words drake, but the older, ‘dragon’ [OE] (which comes via prehistoric West Germanic *drako from Latin dracō, source of English dragon), has now more or less disappeared from general use (it is still employed for a sort of fishing fly). Drake ‘male duck’ [13] probably goes back to (another) prehistoric West Germanic *drako, preserved also in the second element of German enterich ‘male duck’.
=> dragon
duck: duck: [OE] A duck is a bird that ‘ducks’ – as simple as that. It gets its name from its habit of diving down under the surface of the water. There is no actual record of an English verb duck until the 14th century, but it is generally assumed that an Old English verb *dūcan did exist, which would have formed the basis of the noun duck. It came from a prehistoric West Germanic verb *dukjan, which also produced German tauchen ‘dive’.

English is the only language which uses this word for the bird, although Swedish has the term dykand, literally ‘dive-duck’, which refers to the ‘diver’, a sort of large waterbird. Nor is it the original English word: the Anglo-Saxons mainly called the duck ened, a term which survived until the 15th century. This represents the main Indo-European name for the duck, which comes from an original *anə ti- and is found in Greek nessa, Latin anas, German ente, Dutch eend, Swedish and, and Russian utka.
duffel: duffel: [17] Duffel is actually a sort of heavy woollen material, and like so many names of fabrics, it comes from the place where it was originally made or exported from – in this case Duffel, a town in Belgium, near Antwerp. However, the term duffel coat (which dates back to the late 17th century) has in modern times become associated with a particular design of coat (with a hood and toggles) as much as with the material it is made from. Duffel bag [20], a term of American origin, was to begin with a bag for ‘personal belongings and equipment’, or duffel, as it is called in American English (the application seems to have started with ‘spare clothes made of duffel’).
dumb: dumb: [OE] The notion underlying dumb is of ‘sensory or mental impairment’. It goes back to a nasalized version of prehistoric Indo-European *dheubh-, denoting ‘confusion, stupefaction, or dizziness’, which was also the ultimate source of English deaf. This developed two stands of meaning. The first, through association of ‘sensory or mental impairment’ and ‘slowwittedness’, led to forms such as German dumm and Dutch dom, which mean ‘stupid’ (the use of dumb to mean ‘stupid’ did not develop until the 19th century, in American English, presumably under the influence of the German and Dutch adjectives).

The other was semantic specialization to a particular sort of mental impairment, the inability to speak, which produced Gothic dumbs, Old Norse dumbr, and English dumb. (The German word for ‘dumb’, stumm, is related to English stammer and stumble, as are Dutch stom and Swedish stum.) Dummy [16] is a derivative; it originally meant ‘dumb person’.
=> deaf, dummy
entice: entice: [13] Entice is an inflammatory sort of word. It comes ultimately from Latin tītiō ‘firebrand’, which was used, with the prefix in- ‘in’, to form the Vulgar Latin verb *intītiāre ‘set on fire’. This passed into English via Old French enticier, and originally retained much of the heat and vigour of its origins: ‘Your master is enticed and provoked by the Duke of Burgundy’, Richard Grafton, Chronicles of the Affairs of England 1568; but by the 17th century the process of softening from ‘incitement’ to ‘allurement’ was all but complete.
exchequer: exchequer: [13] Etymologically, an exchequer is something that has ‘checks’ or squares on it, and indeed the earliest use of the word in English was for ‘chessboard’. It came via Anglo- Norman escheker from medieval Latin scaccārium ‘chessboard’, a derivative of Vulgar Latin scaccus ‘check’ (source of English check ‘verify’). In the early Middle Ages the office of state, in both England and Normandy, which dealt with the collection and management of the royal revenue, used a table with a chequered cloth on it as a sort of rudimentary adding machine, counters being placed on various squares as an aid to calculation.

And by the 14th century it had become the custom to refer to this department, from its chessboard-like table cloth, as the exchequer (Robert Mannyng, for instance, in his Chronicle 1331, records that ‘to Berwick came the king’s exchequer, Sir Hugh of Cressyngham he was chancellor, Walter of Admundesham he was treasurer’). Exchequer was the source of chequer [13], which by further reduction produced check ‘pattern of squares’.
=> check, chess
flan: flan: [19] The word flan itself is a relatively recent addition to English, adopted on our behalf from French by the chef Alexis Soyer (a Frenchman working in England), but in that form it is in fact simply a reborrowing of a word which originally crossed the Channel in the 13th century as flawn, denoting some sort of custard tart or cheesecake. Its Old French source was flaon, which came from medieval Latin fladō, but this was originally borrowed from Germanic *fladu- (source of German fladen ‘flat cake, cowpat’ and Dutch vlade ‘pancake’), which is probably related ultimately to Sanskrit prthūs ‘broad’, Greek platūs ‘broad’, and English flat.
=> flat
fornication: fornication: [13] Latin fornix denoted an ‘arch’ or ‘vault’, and hence came to be used in the late republican period for the sort of vaulted underground dwellings where the dregs of Roman society – tramps, prostitutes, petty criminals, etc – lived. Early Christian writers homed in on the prostitutes, and employed the term with the specific meaning ‘brothel’, whence the verb fornicārī ‘have illicit sexual intercourse’ and its derivative fornicatiō, source of English fornication.
gabardine: gabardine: [16] The use of gabardine for a sort of worsted material is an early 20th-century development, but the word itself has been around much longer than that. Its central meaning (for which the usual spelling is gaberdine) is ‘long coarse outer garment’. English acquired it from Old French gauvardine, which was a development of an earlier gallevardine. This was probably derived from Middle High German wallevart ‘pilgrimage’ (a compound formed from wallen ‘roam’ and vart ‘journey, way’), and hence etymologically meant ‘pilgrim’s garment’.
gadget: gadget: [19] Gadget is an elusive sort of word, as vague in its history as it is unspecific in its meaning. It seems to have originated as a piece of sailors’ slang, and is said to have been current as long ago as the 1850s, but the earliest record of it in print is from 1886, in R Brown’s Spun Yarn and Spindrift: ‘Then the names of all the other things on board a ship! I don’t know half of them yet; even the sailors forget at times, and if the exact name of anything they want happens to slip from their memory, they call it a chickenfixing, or a gadjet, or a gill-guy, or a timmeynoggy, or a wim-wom – just pro tem., you know’.

As for its source, suggestions have included French gâchette ‘catch of a mechanism’ and French dialect gagée ‘tool’.
galoshes: galoshes: [14] In modern terms, galoshes might be etymologically rendered as ‘little French shoes’. The word comes from Old French galoche, which was an alteration of late Latin gallicula. This in turn was a diminutive form of Latin gallica, short for gallica solea ‘Gallic sandal, sandal from Gaul’ (the name Gaul, incidentally, and the Latin-based Gallic [17], come ultimately from prehistoric Germanic *walkhoz ‘foreigners’, which is related also to Walloon, walnut, and Welsh). The term galosh was originally used in English for a sort of clog; the modern sense ‘overshoe’ did not develop until the early 19th century.
=> gallic, walloon, walnut, welsh
glitz: glitz: [20] Glitz, a sort of ‘shallow but exciting and fashionable sparkle and showiness’, is a backformation from glitzy, an American slang term fashionable in the early 1980s. This in turn was derived from Yiddish glitz ‘glitter’, which came from German glitzern ‘sparkle’ (a relative of English glitter). Its fortuitous resemblance to a blend of glamour and Ritz contributes to its expressiveness.
=> glitter
glow: glow: [OE] Glow comes ultimately from Indo- European *ghlō-, in which the ghl- seems originally to have had some sort of symbolic function, as if directly representing the notion of ‘brightness, shining’ in speech. Its Germanic descendant *glō- produced German glühen, Dutch gloeien, and Swedish glöda (all meaning ‘glow’) as well as English glow and probably also glower [16].
=> glower