All at once, out of the Murk, a dozen mirror'd Lanthorns have leapt alight together, as into their Glare now strolls a somewhat dishevel'd Norfolk Terrier, with a raffish Gleam in its eye - whilst from somewhere less illuminate comes a sprightly Overture upon Horn, Clarinet, and Cello, in time to which the Dog steps back and forth in his bright Ambit. - Thomas Pynchon, Mason & Dixon

and this, to the wandering eye:

HOLOFERNES: ...his humour is lofty, his discourse
peremtory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious,
his gait majestical, and his general behavior vain,
ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too
spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too
peregrinate, as I may call it.
SIR NATHANIEL: A most singular and choice epithet.
- Love's Labours Lost, Act 5, Scene 1