Attitudes toward Increasing Segmentalization

Complex and Phrasal Verbs in English

LAUREL J. BRINTON
University of British Columbia

The Modem English period is characterized by the increased frequency of two

segmentalized structures: function verb plus deverbative noun constructions such
as takelhave a look and verb plus postverbal particle constructions such as look up.

These two structures are traditionally thought to have developed fully only since
about 1800 (Trnka 1928,139,141; Kennedy 1920,42; Barber 1964,140-41;Strang
1970,101; Traugott 1972,172-73). At different points, purists have proscribed these
constructions, fearing both the loss of more specialized Latinate verbs and the
weakening of the meaning of the native verbs that comprise the constructions. This
article seeks to understand the negative attitudes expressed toward these segmen-
talized structures in usage manuals in light of their functional differences from the
corresponding simple verbs as well as the naturalness of their development in an
analytic language such as English.
The first segmentalized construction has no standard accepted name, although
it has been termed &dquo;group-verb&dquo; (Poutsma 1926), &dquo;verbo-nominal phrasal&dquo; (Rensky
1964), &dquo;take-have phrasal&dquo; (Live 1973), &dquo;composite predicate&dquo; (Cattell 1984),
&dquo;verbo-nominal construction&dquo; (Akimoto 1989), &dquo;V+N construction&dquo; (Stein and
Quirk 1991), and &dquo;expanded predicate&dquo; (Algeo 1995), among other names (see
Stein 1991, 2). All of these names suffer from being either too inclusive or not
sufficiently descriptive. For simplicity, I follow Olsson (1961) and Nickel (1968,
1978) in designating the structure a &dquo;complex verb.&dquo;
The complex verb has a tripartite structure, as follows:

V { have, give, take ...) + a + N [deverbative].

The verb is usually a native verb, most commonly give, have, make, and take
but also be, come, do, get, or put and, more recently, Latinate verbs such as perform,
formulate, e, f~‘’ect, pay, offer, or obtain. It has a vague or general actional meaning
(Poutsma 1926, 394; Live 1973, 33; Rensky 1964, 290-91 ; Quirk et al. 1985, 750,
1401; Algeo 1995, 204, 206-7).~ The verb is seen as the &dquo;grammatical center&dquo;
(Algeo 1995, 203; Live 1973, 31), as serving primarily a connective function
Journal of English Linguistics, Vol. 24 / No 3, September 1996 186-205
© 1996 Sage Pubhcations, Inc.
186
 187

(Poutsma 1926, 394; Curme 1931, 22), and as being semantically and phonologi-
cally subservient to the following nominal. It is variously described as an &dquo;auxiliary&dquo;
(Curme 1931, 22; Live 1973, 33, 40 ; Wierzbicka 1982), a &dquo;quasi-auxiliary&dquo; (Trau-
gott 1972, 173), and a &dquo;light&dquo; or &dquo;insignificant&dquo; verb (Jespersen 1942, 117). By
contrast, the nominal is the &dquo;lexical center&dquo; (Algeo 1995, 203-4), carrying the &dquo;lexical
load&dquo; (Live 1973, 31), and serving as the focus of meaning. The noun, rather than
the verb, expresses the &dquo;eventive&dquo; sense of the predicate (Poutsma 1926, 394;
Curme 1931, 22; Kruisinga 1932, 199; Jespersen 1942,117; Quirk et al. 1985, 750;
Algeo 1995, 204). The noun is deverbative, either identical in form to the corre-
sponding verbal stem ( 1 a) or phonologically ( 1 b) or derivationally related ( 1 c) to
it.2 It is generally singular in form and abstract in meaning and is normally preceded
by an indefinite article (Rensk~ 1964, 295; Live 1973, 31; Stein and Quirk 1991,
200; Algeo 1995, 208), although it is possible for the indefinite article to be omitted
or to be replaced by the definite article (Live 1973, 36). The construction generally

corresponds to the simple verb etymologically related to the deverbative noun, as

shown in the following, and is sometimes seen as deriving transformationally from
it (see Nickel 1968, 1978; Prince 1972; Cattell 1984; cf. Allerton 1982, 76):

Category (lb) can also include verb-particle combinations with a shift in stress such
as have a briakdown-br6ak d6wn, make a trdde-off-trdde 6ff, give a handout

hdnd 6ut, which Stein (1991, 9) sees as rare (cf. Live 1973, 38). Whereas some
scholars exclude the types in (lb) and (lc) from this construction (see, e.g.,
Jespersen 1942, 117; Wierzbicka 1982, 755; Dixon 1991, 339), most scholars,
188

although recognizing the subvarieties, do not distinguish among them (see, e.g., Nickel
1968, 6; 1978, 68; Algeo 1995, 205) because of their analogous form and function.
Furthermore, it is possible to identify two subtypes of give complex verbs: a
monotransitive type (e.g., give a scream/shrug/heave) and a ditransitive type (e.g.,
give X a pushlnudgelshove) (see Live 1973, 35; Akimoto 1989, 145-53; Stein 1991,
23); the latter type is also sometimes excluded from this construction.
Complex verbs receive recognition in traditional grammars (see Poutsma 1926,
118-22, 394-400; Curme 1931, 22; Kruisinga 1932, 198-200; Jespersen 1942,
117-20; Visser 1970, 138-141; Quirk et al. 1985, 750-52, 1401-2) and more
extensive treatment in Olsson (1961, 11-14, 190-99, and passim), Rensk~ (1964),
Nickel (1964, 1978), Live (1973), Wierzbicka (1982), Cattell (1984), Dixon (1991,
61, 336-62), Stein (1991), Stein and Quirk (1991), and Algeo (1995); compare
Fraser (1976, 38-46) and Green (1974, 83-84, 224, 226-27).~ Scholars comment,
in almost identical terms, on the frequency, naturalness, and productivity of this
construction: it is &dquo;a very marked feature of the English language&dquo; (Beise
1941, 298) or &dquo;a fact of English grammar&dquo; (Live 1973, 40), and there is a &dquo;strong
tendency&dquo; (Curme 1931, 22), a &dquo;general tendency&dquo; (Jespersen 1942, 117), or a
&dquo;marked tendency&dquo; (Poutsma 1926, 394; Nickel 1978, 64) to use the complex verb
in Modem English. However, as Beise (1941, 298-302) and Visser (1970, 138-41)
amply illustrate, this construction dates back to Middle or even Old English. It is
&dquo;deeply rooted in the historical development of the language&dquo; (Live 1973, 41).
The second segmentalized structure is also variously designated &dquo;verb + particle
construction&dquo; or &dquo;verb-adverb combination&dquo; (Kennedy 1920), though &dquo;phrasal
verb&dquo; is now widely accepted. This construction consists of a verb, almost always
a native English verb, and a postverbal particle, most commonly up, down, off, out,

over, through, on, and away, concatenated in a more or less cohesive unit, which
contrasts in meaning with the corresponding simple verb:

Although phrasal verbs present many difficulties for analysis, including determi-
nation of the word class of the particle and delimitation of phrasal verbs (e.g., look
up) from &dquo;prepositional verbs&dquo; (e.g., look into) and &dquo;phrasal-prepositional verbs&dquo;
(e.g., look in on) (see Quirk et al. 1985, 1161) as well as from verb + adverb
 189

sequences (e.g., look away), they are fully described in the literature (see, e.g.,
Brinton 1988, 163-84) and widely recognized as a feature of Modern English. The
most distinguishing syntactic characteristic of the phrasal verb is the movability of
the particle in transitive constructions: Alice looked up the information and Alice
looked the information up (on the syntax of phrasal verbs, see Bolinger 1971; Fraser
1976; Quirk et al. 1985, 1152-54, 1156-57, 1166-67; and references in Brinton
1988, 163-66). The semantics of the phrasal verb are often described as unpre-
dictable, idiosyncratic, &dquo;idiomatic,&dquo; or metaphoric, subject only to listing in a
dictionary (such as Meyer 1975). However, it has been observed that, much like the
nominal object and function verb in the complex verb, the verb and the particle
seem to be semantically reversed in the phrasal verb: &dquo;The particle is more central
than the verb in underlying structure&dquo; and &dquo;receives the semantic focus of the
sentence&dquo; (Declerck 1977, 306). The particle expresses the primary actional mean-
ing, as in these paraphrases suggested by Bolinger (1971, 49, 70, 81): to throw out =

’to out (oust) by throwing,’ to run away ’to away (absent oneself) by running’
=

(see further Brinton 1988, 177-78). While the postverbal particles of phrasal verbs
are the functional equivalents of the verbal prefixes of Old and Middle English, the

appearance of phrasal verbs preceded the Modem English period in which the
prefixes became moribund; in fact, phrasal verbs were quite well established in Old
English and increasingly frequent and varied in Middle English (see Brinton 1988,
185-234).
Although both the have/take a look and look up constructions are well estab-
lished, they have been subject to the proscriptions of purists. The objections to
complex and phrasal verbs have appeared at different times and are, on the surface,
rather different in nature. Phrasal verbs seem to have evoked the objections of
traditionalists as early as the eighteenth century (see Hiltunen 1983, 384-5,
note 21). Kennedy (1920, 40-46 and passim), writing at the beginning of this
century, still feels it necessary to address, at some length, the rhetoricians’ objec-
tions to phrasal verbs. However, in recent years, the objections seem to have
subsided; handbooks now define phrasal verbs but do not proscribe against them.
On the other hand, complex verbs, although long recognized in traditional gram-
mars, seem to have eluded purists until quite recently; objections to them are now
quite vehement, at least in certain styles of writing. The objections to both construc-
tions have a common basis in purists’ concerns about the lack of precision and
concreteness in speech and thought and the possible loss of specialized vocabulary,
both being attributed to linguistic laziness.
Proscriptions against the use of complex verbs are found primarily in technical
writing handbooks rather than in general usage guides, perhaps because, as Rensky
(1964, 297) points out, complex verbs are part of the more abstract, nominalized
style of scientific discourse (see also Stein 1991, 8, 25).4
190

The first objection is that the verbs found in these segmentalized constructions-
do, give, have, make, and take-are semantically void: &dquo;empty&dquo; (Williams
1985, 11, 16), &dquo;weak&dquo; (Markel 1992, 159; Brusaw, Alred, and Oliu 1987, 427;
Lunsford and Connors 1989, 338, 340-41; Lannon 1994, 266; Mathes and Stevenson
1991, 331), &dquo;colorless&dquo; (Rew 1989, 192), &dquo;uninteresting&dquo; (Mathes and Stevenson
1991, 331), or &dquo;smothered&dquo; verbs (Andrews and Blickle 1982, 110; Sandman,
Klompus, and Yarrison 1985, 275). Sandman et al. further describe the verbs as
&dquo;inert,&dquo; &dquo;actionless,&dquo; &dquo;lackluster,&dquo; and &dquo;overworked&dquo; (275). The most colorful
characterizations of these verbs are as &dquo;scotch tape verbs&dquo; (Mathes and Stevenson
1991, 331) and &dquo;catchall verbs&dquo; (Lunsford and Connors 1989, 338). Lannon (1994,
266-67) explains that such verbs, because they do not denote a specific action,
cannot advance the meaning of the text; furthermore, strong verbs are needed to
present an &dquo;assertive, positive, and confident&dquo; manner.
The second objection to these segmentalized constructions is to the use of
abstract nouns instead of verbs to express action. Doing so will &dquo;hide the action&dquo;
(Rew 1989, 192) or &dquo;bury the action&dquo; late in the sentence (Houp and Pearsall 1992,
124; Lunsford and Connors 1989, 340-1), leading to lifeless and vague prose
(Lannon 1994, 266) which is indirect and difficult to process (Williams 1985, 10-1;
Carosso 1986,137; Lunsford and Connors 1989, 340-1 ). According to these guides,
actions should always be expressed by verbs: &dquo;Real&dquo; verbs should not &dquo;masquer-
ade&dquo; as abstract nouns (Mathes and Stevenson 1991, 331) or as nouns artificially
&dquo;manufactured&dquo; from verbs (Lannon 1994, 268). Rather, prose should be action
oriented, &dquo;lean and purposeful&dquo; (Rew 1989, 192). The third objection is that the
verbal construction, with its noun and (frequently) preposition, is wordier than the
simple verb which can often be substituted for it (Andrews and Blickle 1982, 111;
Markel 1992, 159; Sandman et al. 1985, 276; Carosso 1986, 137; Anderson 1995,
270; Brusaw et al. 1987, 427; Lunsford and Connors 1989, 340; Rew 1989, 192;
Lannon 1994, 209, 266-67; Mathes and Stevenson 1991, 331).
Two further stylistic objections to the take a look construction are that it is
awkward and harsh (Poutsma 1926, 120; Markel 1992, 159) and that it sounds
pompous, pretentious, or bureaucratic, its use resulting perhaps from a misguided
attempt to appear formal or scientific (Olsson 1961, 220-21; Sandman et al. 1985,
275; Carosso 1986,137; Houp and Pearsall 1992,131; Lunsford and Connors 1989,
341). Only four of the manuals offer even timid defense of the construction, with
Brusaw et al. (1987, 427) noting that it has a legitimate use in slowing down the
pace of one’s prose; Andrews and Blickle (1982, 111) pointing out that it may serve
to emphasize the results rather than the action and that it may have a linking, or
cohesive, function (also see Anderson 1995, 272); and Williams (1985, 159-60)
noting that it enables the &dquo;heaviest, most emphatic words&dquo;-nominalizations-to
be placed in the position of greatest emphasis at the end of the sentence.
 191

Unlike complex verbs, phrasal verbs are frequently defended as a means of

enriching the vocabulary by the use of native rather than borrowed material, with
a resulting increase in synonyms and a greater variety and flexibility of expression

(Kennedy 1920, 33, 36; Vallins 1955, 88; Fowler 1965, 451; Gowers 1986, 63).
Vallins (1955, 88) considers phrasal verb constructions to be well established and
natural as well as meaningful: &dquo;As usual, the guardians of language are rising up in
protest; but since the idiom is not new, an extension of it seems natural, if not
inevitable.&dquo; Evans and Evans ( 1957, 17) likewise consider phrasal verbs natural and
further claim that they are &dquo;generally preferred to their Latin equivalents.&dquo; However,
objections are raised to certain aspects of phrasal verbs. The most common
complaint is that the particle in many phrasal verbs-such as match up, close down,
start up, pay off, drown out, try out, or sound out-is unnecessary or tautological,

adding nothing to the meaning of the simplex (see, e.g., Evans and Evans 1957, 17;
Partridge 1957, 334-35 ; Berry 1961, 85; Fowler 1965,451 ; Meyer 1975, 7; Gowers
1986, 63, 184). According to Gowers (1986, 63), the redundant particles in such
phrasal verbs &dquo;debase the language.&dquo; Rickard (1910, 67-68) objects to certain
particles as well but observes that other particles may sometimes be meaningful,
though &dquo;unnecessary and ugly.&dquo; Kennedy (1920, 17-18, 28), on the other hand,
refutes the &dquo;objection of the purist that in many instances the particle is unnecessary
or, as it has been characterized, parasitical&dquo; by pointing out that quite a few
supposedly &dquo;redundant&dquo; particles are well established (e.g., fill up, bow down) and
that the &dquo;speaker almost always feels a nice distinction.&dquo;
Another common criticism of phrasal verbs-at least among British writers-is
that they are an Americanism (Vallins 1955, 452; Fowler 1965, 452; Gowers 1986,
63, 184); in direct contrast, Rickard (1910, 65, 68) considers them &dquo;a defect
particularly British, although not unknown on this side of the Atlantic.&dquo;’ Apart from
these two criticisms, comments against phrasal verbs are rather scattered: that they
are wordy (Fowler 1965, 451, a result of our &dquo;craving for prolixity&dquo;), awkward

(Rickard 1910, 69), or faddish (Berry 1961, 133, where he objects to firm up) or
that they lead to the incorrect separation of verb and particle (Berry 1961, 86) or to
an &dquo;ugly&dquo; sequence of two prepositions (Rickard 1910, 66). Finally, Kennedy

(1920, 17, 41) suggests that the greatest objection comes to phrasal verbs with
figurative meaning, which he defends as contributing to warmth and color in the
language.
Despite the rather different types of objections raised against phrasal verbs and
function verb + noun constructions, I believe that purists are motivated in both cases
by the same concerns. First, they sense a lack of semantic precision in both
constructions and frequently point out that a single verb, semantically more
specialized and generally Latinate, can often replace the construction with its native
verbs of broad meaning.6
192

While sometimes the correspondences are merely noted, substitution of the more
specialized single verb for the verbal construction is often actively encouraged.’
Kennedy (1920, 34) observes that of the 826 phrasal verbs he has collected, 110
could profitably be replaced by the simplex. He fears that because of the use of
phrasal verbs, &dquo;simple verbs of more highly specialized meaning are being crowded
out of general use&dquo; (37, 42).’ Critics of the complex verb are likewise concerned
about its supplanting more specialized verbs.
A concomitant fear is that the use of both verbal constructions will lead to the
loss of precise meaning in our native verbs and to their inability to stand alone.
Writers will invariably come to use a verbal phrase when a simple verb would
suffice. Fowler ( 1965, 451 ) sees this as a &dquo;natural, however regrettable&dquo; loss which
is &dquo;owing to this curious dislike of the verb standing alone.&dquo; Gowers (1986, 184)
fears that it &dquo;may rob the simple verb of its meaning.&dquo; Kennedy (1920, 43) notes
that it may lead to ambiguity as well as semantic weakening, as in the phrasal verb
blow up meaning ’to inflate’ or ’to explode’ or the simple verb get, now denoting
&dquo;almost anything which the context may suggest, action, state or being.&dquo;
Poutsma (1926, 394) cites the interchangeability of these verbs (e.g., paylgive
attention, makelgive a promise) as evidence of their &dquo;vagueness.&dquo; The fear is
expressed most forcefully by Orwell (1946,160) in his well-known essay, &dquo;Politics
and the English Language&dquo;: &dquo;The keynote is the elimination of simple verbs. Instead
of being a single word such as break, stop, spoil, mend, kill, a verb becomes a phrase,
made up of a noun or adjective tacked on to some general-purposes verb such as
prove, serve, form, play, render.&dquo;
What lies behind these fears is the suspicion that the choice of the verbal
construction rather than the specialized single verb is the result of &dquo;linguistic
laziness,&dquo; slovenliness, or ease. As Kennedy (1920) observes concerning phrasal
 193

verbs, &dquo;It is so much easier to combine a dozen or fifteen well-known prepositional-

adverbs with the simpler and more familiar verbs than it is to keep in mind a special
polysyllabic verb for each different concept&dquo; (30); &dquo;it is easier to use lay with nine
different combining particles to produce forty different phrases of meaning than it
is to have ready for instant use forty different words or phrases such as save, cease
work, plan, formulate, surpass, render helpless, stop, plow for the last time, etc.&dquo;
(44). Orwell ( 1946, 160) voices an almost identical suspicion concerning what he
calls &dquo;operators and verbal false limbs&dquo; such as make contact with, take effect, give
rise to, or play a part: &dquo;These save the trouble of picking out appropriate verbs and
nouns, and at the same time pad each sentence with extra syllables which give it an
appearance of symmetry.&dquo; Sandman et al. (1985, 276) also remark on the &dquo;general
sloppiness&dquo; lying behind the use of &dquo;all-purpose verbs&dquo; and nouns rather than more
vivid and precise alternatives; the verbal constructions, they claim, are &dquo;too easy&dquo;
to use. Both Orwell and Kennedy attribute this linguistic laziness to our failure to
think clearly, as Kennedy (1920, 45) aptly sums it up: &dquo;Slovenly and ineffective
thinking, of course, obviates very largely the possibility of exactness and clearness
of diction, just as slovenly speech and general inexactness of expression indicate a
lack of clear thinking.&dquo;
The proscriptions of purists fly in the face of the firm basis these segmentalized
constructions have in English usage and, more importantly, the naturalness of their
development. Both are characteristic of the increasingly analytic character of
English, the replacement of bound with free forms and of inflectional with peri-
phrastic forms (see Trnka 1928; Kennedy 1920, 40, 42; Vallins 1955, 88; Barber
1964,140-41; Brinton 1988,189). Moreover, the proscriptions assume a synonymy
between the simple and the analytic forms, the differences being merely a matter
of register or style. But as is argued below, both constructions are functionally
distinct from the simple forms and, moreover, often serve similar structural pur-
poses within the sentence.
While it has been traditional to assert the interchangeability of simple and
complex verbs, it has also been noted that they are not always equivalent (see, e.g.,
Olsson 1961, 215; Visser 1970, 138; Quirk et al. 1985, 751; Algeo 1995, 206).
Several studies (Wierzbicka 1982; Dixon 1991; Stein 1991) have examined the
semantics of the have, give, and take complex verb structures in detail.9 Although
the semantics of the constructions are varied and complex and the accounts do not
agree in all details, several common features of the complex verb are identifiable.
In contrast to the simple verb, the complex verb usually expresses experiencer-
oriented activity indulged in by a voluntary human agent for a limited period of
time for the sake of the activity itself, for pleasure, relief, and so on. Visser (1970,138)
suggests the following general semantic function: ‘&dquo;The analytic type seems to be
used to represent the action or proceeding as something experienced, got at, attained
or enjoyed by the person denoted by the subject.&dquo;
194

More systematic than the semantics of complex verbs, however, are their
structural functions. First, the complex verb readily admits adjectival modification,
as in have a quick/briefllonglcareful look, whereas the adverbial modifier of the

simple verb is often awkward or ungainly, as in look quicklylbrieflylfor a long

timelcarefully (Poutsma 1926,119, 395-96, 686-87; Jespersen 1942,117), or it may
simply not exist, as in make an enormous leaplbig impact versus *leap enormously,
*impact bigly (Cattell 1984, 8; Akimoto 1989, 1 94).~° It is generally agreed that
noun modification is easier to handle than verb modification, especially with
intransitive verbs. As Poutsma (1926, 395-96) says,

The adnominal modifier does the same duty as the corresponding adverbial
modifier of the corresponding simplex, i.e. modifies the predicate as a
whole.... It deserves special mention that the group-verb offers some
welcome syntactical facilities, inasmuch as it sometimes obviates the diffi-
culty of finding a suitable adverb to convey the meaning intended and affords
an opportunity to avoid the clumsy adverb in ly, for which, besides, it is

sometimes difficult to find a convenient place in the sentence. (see also

Jespersen 1942, 117)
Nickel (1968, 15; 1978, 77) considers ease of modification to be the &dquo;main
motivation&dquo; for the use of complex verbs, contributing to their &dquo;enormous descrip-
tive force.&dquo; Live (1973, 34) believes that the convenience of inserting an adjective
in the complex verb contruction may stimulate its use, and Dixon (1991, 341)
identifies &dquo;adverb/adjective correspondence&dquo; as one of the four criteria for distin-
guishing the complex verb.&dquo; Rensky (1964, 296) finds the use of adjectival
modification to be the motivation for use of the complex verb 50 percent of the
time. However, Stein (1991,19) sees this as merely a secondary motivation because
there is not always an exact correspondence between the adjectivally modified
complex and adverbially modified simplex verb. Prince (1972, 415-16) explains
this lack of synonymy by distinguishing between &dquo;selectional&dquo; modifiers in which
synonymy exists (e.g., Jane took a close look at the picture = Jane looked closely
at the picture) and &dquo;semelfactive&dquo; modifiers in which synonymy does not exist (e.g.,
Sue took a short walk # Sue walked shortly) because the latter modifier operates on
the feature of meaning-semelfactivity-specific to the complex verb.’2
In respect to modification, the complex verb construction is much like the
cognate object construction. Cognate objects rarely occur without modification
(dream a strange dream, not ?dream a dream) because the nominal object can more
easily be qualified than the intransitive verb (*dream strangely) (see Poutsma
1926, 76, 79, 687; Jespersen 1927, 235; 1942, 235; Olsson 1961, 91). Without
modification, as Jespersen ( 1927, 235) observes, the cognate object is &dquo;inane&dquo; since
it adds nothing to the verbal notion. Quirk et al. (1985, 751) point out that the
 195

cognate object &dquo;repeats,&dquo; whereas the deverbative noun &dquo;substitutes&dquo; for the lexical
meaning of the verb.
Second, a number of lesser structural functibns of the complex verb have been
noted. It may provide a verbal predicate where none exists, for example, do
homework, take a toll, have an illusion, or have a fit (Quirk et al. 1985, 751; Visser
1970, 138; Stein 1991, 14; Algeo 1995, 206),13 It may &dquo;intransitivize&dquo; a verb by
permitting its use without its otherwise obligatory patient object, as in Allan made
a mistake (cf. Allan mistook X but not *Allan mistook) (Quirk et al. 1985, 751 ); in

fact, Rensky (1964, 295) finds this to be the motivation for the construction’s use
20 percent of the time. Live (1973, 34) points out that the complex verb is used
preferentially in the absence of a nominal, a prepositional, or an infinitival comple-
ment. The complex verb may also facilitate coordination (Nickel 1978, 77; cf.
Fraser 1976,40), for example, Grandpa had a drink dinner, and a nap (cf. Grandpa
drank [a drink], dined, and napped). Finally, the verbal content can also be iterated
by pluralization of the noun, as in have two drinks, have three bites (Jespersen
1942, 119).14
While it is common to note the semantic function of individual particles and of
specific verb plus particle combinations (see, e.g., Kennedy 1920), it is less
common for scholars to recognize a general semantic function for the phrasal verb.

Most often noted is the resultative meaning of the phrasal verb, that is, its focus on
the place, position, or state resulting from the action or process expressed by the
verb (Bolinger 1971; Lipka 1972; Declerck 1977), as in the following:

This resultative meaning is most evident when the particle is in final, or focus,
position, as in the following transitive phrasal verbs, where the particle follows the
object:&dquo;
196

Structurally, phrasal verbs follow an analytic tendency that Bolinger (1971, 45)
calls &dquo;semantic spreading,&dquo; &dquo;whereby instead of packing a fat bundle of semantic
features into one word, matters can be made more flexible by packing thinner
bundles into two or more words.&dquo; Likewise, complex verbs provide what Nickel
( 1968, 25; 1978, 77) calls &dquo;division of labour&dquo; or &dquo;structural economy,&dquo; what Quirk
et al. (1985, 1401) call &dquo;structural compensation,&dquo; and what Rensky (1964, 296)
calls &dquo;polarization&dquo; (see also Live 1973, 31 ; Algeo 1995, 203): the lexical content
(expressed by the deverbative noun) is separated from the grammatical content, viz.
tense, person, and &dquo;connectivity&dquo; (expressed by the function verb). &dquo;Semantic
spreading&dquo; and &dquo;division of labour&dquo; underlie what I see as the common function of
these two constructions.
In English, the verbal element normally is not focused, nor does it generally
carry accent (Nickel 1968, 17; 1978, 79; Quirk et al. 1985, 1401). Because nuclear
accent falls naturally on the final major structural element in a sentence, a simple
subject-verb construction such as My friend cooked &dquo;sounds oddly incomplete&dquo; and
is often expanded by adding an optional adverbial (My friend cooked enthusiasti-
cally) (Quirk et al. 1985, 1401; Algeo 1995, 205). To stress the verb, an accent-
bearing auxiliary must be used (not *My friend c6oked but rather My friend is
cookingldtd cooktw6uld cook), but in these cases the accent does not fall on the
final structural element. Both of the verbal constructions discussed in this article
offer means to &dquo;stretch&dquo; the predicate and avoid simple intransitive structures
(Allerton 1982, 131; Quirk et al. 1985, 751, 1401) while at the same time making
focus on the verbal content easier. They permit the nuclear accent to fall on the final
element in the sentence, either the deverbalized noun or the verbal particle, both of
which contribute to the actional meaning of the predicate, for example, She took a
run or The plane took 6fl. Constraints on English word order and on the finite verb’s
carrying stress otherwise prevent the verb from occurring in the accented final
position: *She rdn, *He o~’’tfok. Bolinger (1971, 63) explicitly notes the similarity
between the phrasal verb and a verbo-nominal structure similar to the complex verb,
using the following examples to argue that both constructions, but not the simple
verb, allow focus on the verb while retaining emphasis of the object:&dquo;

In transitive constructions, the complex verb serves as &dquo;the structural means

which allow the actional content of the underlying verb to become focussed&dquo;
(Nickel 1968, 17; 1978, 79) since accent on the nominal component, not the
function verb, is normal and is much preferred to accent on the simple verb:
 197

In ditransitive constructions with give, further distinctions of focus are possible:

As Quirk et al. ( 1985,1396) point out, (8a) focuses the activity whereas (8b) focuses
the dative object; however, since give a kiss, in contrast to the simple verb kiss, is
a structure explicitly designed to focus the action, He kissed Marie is preferred to

He gave a kiss to Marie in this case. I might add that in contrast to (8b), (8c) provides
a means of focusing &dquo;Marie&dquo; while also emphasizing the &dquo;kissing&dquo; and that, in

contrast to (8a), (8d) provides a means of focusing the &dquo;kissing&dquo; while also
emphasizing &dquo;Marie.&dquo;
In sentence-perspective terms, the complex verb provides a means of making
the action the &dquo;comment&dquo; or &dquo;rheme&dquo; of the sentence. Rensk~ ( 1964, 296-97) argues
that it serves as a means of isolating the &dquo;notional nucleus of the verbal predication&dquo;
and &dquo;singl[ing] it out as a rheme.&dquo;
The phrasal verb likewise provides a wider choice for the number of accents and
their placement within the sentence than does the simple verb.&dquo; These complexities,
explored in detail by Bolinger (1971, 45), are exemplified in the following
sentences:
198

(9a) and (9b) place the focus on &dquo;bringing up&dquo;; (9b) also presents &dquo;children&dquo; as new
information. As Bolinger (1971, 52-54) explains, placing a potentially accentable
element in end position but not accenting it leads to the greatest amount of
&dquo;redundancy,&dquo; or lack of emphasis. Thus (9c) places the focus on &dquo;bringing up&dquo; and
makes &dquo;children&dquo; redundant. Both (9d) and (9e) place the focus on &dquo;children,&dquo; but
(9e) also makes &dquo;bringing up&dquo; redundant. Note that only options (d) and (e) are
possible with the simplex verb rearing.
In addition to a role in the expression of semantic focus, both complex verbs and
phrasal verbs serve a similar function in the expression of verbal aspect. Phrasal
verbs are often thought to have something to do with the expression of verbal aspect,
but in an unsystematic way: &dquo;The aspect-like function is so widespread in the
[phrasal verb] as to be a significant-and apparently, productive-feature of this
verb-form&dquo; (Live 1965, 437). It is sometimes argued that phrasal verbs contribute
to the expression of &dquo;perfective,&dquo; &dquo;terminative,&dquo; &dquo;effective,&dquo; or &dquo;resultative&dquo; aspect
(e.g., Kennedy 1920, 27; Poutsma 1926, 296, 300-1; Curme 1931, 379, 381;
Bolinger 1971, 96). However, in Brinton (1988,166-76), I argue that the postverbal
particles up, down, out, off, through, over, and away are best understood as
contributing the notion of &dquo;goal&dquo; to an otherwise unbounded activity and are, in
fact, quite systematic

Postverbal particles are, then, strictly speaking, markers of telic aktionsart rather
than of aspect, converting an activity without an intrinsic end point, such as
’reading,’ into an accomplishment with an external end point, such as ’reading
through (to the end).’.’
The complex verb has also been associated with the expression of aspect. &dquo;But
the characteristic which is most consistent, and which perhaps makes for its
widespread use, is aspectual connotation&dquo; (Live 1973, 34; also Wierzbicka 1982,
759). Rensk~ (1964, 295) notes merely that the complex verb expresses &dquo;perfective
aspect.&dquo; Live (1973, 34) suggests that the complex verb denotes a single occurrence
 199

rather than the continuous or iterative, whereas Wierzbicka (1982, 757, 759) sees
the aspectual character of the complex verb as limiting an activity in time, normally
rather a short time-what she calls the &dquo;antidurative&dquo; (also Akimoto 1989, 144;
Dixon 1991, 346-48, 351, 354). Stein (1991, 17-18) likewise argues that the have
construction &dquo;makes the experience limited in time&dquo;; with it, &dquo;a segment of an
activity is cut out from an activity that has no boundaries&dquo; and now has a beginning
and end. For Prince (1972, 413, 418, note 3), the complex verb contains the
&dquo;semelfactive predicate&dquo; ’(be) a bounded activity’; it converts an activity into an
accomplishment and denotes one single completed action. In Brinton (1995), I
argue that the complex verb has an aspectual function in adding an intended end
point to an activity, an end point which is normally a temporal limitation consonant
with the nature of the activity (lla); in other words, like phrasal verbs, complex
verbs convert activities into accomplishments or at least &dquo;quasi-accomplishments.&dquo;
However, with different types of activities, the effect of the complex verb varies;
with incremental activities (lib) or with those that are inherently iterative ( 11 c),
the complex verb, especially with give and take, denotes a single incremental unit
(see also Dixon 1991, 348, 352):~

We may observe that both phrasal verbs and complex verbs meet the formal tests
for accomplishments:
200

Complex verbs and phrasal verbs thus have a clear structural function distin-
guishable from that of the corresponding simplex, that of displacing eventive
meaning to an element other than the verb (one that can assume end position and
be sententially focused), as well as a clear aspectual function, that of converting an
activity into a (quasi-)accomplishment.
What then motivates the proscriptions against phrasal and complex verbs,
proscriptions that on the surface would seem to have no historical or linguistic
basis? The proscriptions may be attributable to the remarkable increase in use of
these constructions in the modem period as well as to their colloquial origins.
Kennedy (1920, 9-10, 17, 40), for example, remarks on the colloquial nature of
phrasal verbs, whereas virtually all commentators on the complex verb note their
&dquo;colloquial&dquo; or &dquo;informal&dquo;
nature (Curme 1931, 22; Poutsma 1926, 398; Olsson
1961, 217-19; Wierzbicka 1982, 757; Quirk et al. 1985, 751, 1401; Dixon 1991,
337, 361; cf. Stein 1991, 25). Furthermore, a colloquial origin is crucially related
to the function of the constructions since the expression of focus is more important
and more fully developed in speech than it is in writing. However, the similarity of
the proscriptions against complex verbs and phrasal verbs would suggest that
colloquiality alone is not the essential factor disturbing prescriptivists. Rather, it
would seem that the dislike of these constructions is related to the similarity in
function between them, with purists fearing the displacement of actional meaning
from the finite verb and its consequential weakening, which they see as stemming
from linguistic laziness, a preference for &dquo;prefabricated&dquo; expressions, and a certain
abstractness or imprecision of thought.

Notes

1. Stein (1991, 8, 27) argues that the various verbs entering into the complex
verb construction should not be considered entirely devoid of meaning given that
they are not always interchangeable or that the replacement of one with another
effects a meaning change.
2. Wierzbicka (1982, 755) analyzes the forms in (1a) as containing a bare
infinitive rather than a noun (as in have a swim
) to distinguish them from forms that
"can be proved to be a noun" (as in have a quarrel/party
), that is, where the noun
and verb happen to be identical or where the verb derives from the noun.
3. Fraser (1976, 38-46) discusses seven classes of "apparent verb-particle
combinations." His first class includes combinations such as make mention of and
take notice of, where the first noun is a nominalized verb and is usually related to
a Latinate verb; it may be modified by a determiner or an adjective, and either noun

may become the subject of the corresponding passive (39-41). Fraser’s third class
(42), combinations such as do violence to, give assistance to, and pay attention to,
is comparable to Green’s (1974) second type of "nonliteral give" expressions, which
 201

she notes areparaphrasable with a single verb and variably allow indirect object
movement and quantification of the direct object (83-84, 224, 226-27). Fraser’s
(1976) sixth class consists of combinations such as put X to shame, take X by
surprise, and put X to rout, where only the first noun phrase may become subject
of the corresponding passive (44). All three of Fraser’s classes may, by the criteria
given here, be considered complex verbs. It is significant for the purposes of this
article that Fraser considers these combinations to be related to phrasal verbs.
Likewise, Quirk et al. (1985) treat the same forms (e.g.,
pay attention to, take notice
of, make mention of ) variously as "transitive prepositional verbs" (type 2b)
(1158-60) and verb plus eventive object constructions (750-52). And, interestingly,
Beise (1941) calls complex verbs "phrasal verbs."
4. However, Rensky finds that complex verbs are equally distributed in scien-
tific and nonscientific discourse in his corpus, the only difference being that
scientific discourse favors the (1b) type with Latinate deverbative nouns.
5. Although there are dialectal differences in the form of complex verbs, with
American English preferring take and British English preferring have, the construc-
tion is common in both varieties (see Algeo 1995, 209-13). In fact, Algeo finds a
slightly higher frequency of complex verbs in British English (213).
6. Kennedy (1920, 31-32) is the only one to consider how this process of
replacement works. He argues that the phrasal verb is sometimes a translation of
the Labin verb (such as dig up for exhume
), sometimes a calque of the prefix and
root (such a blow up for inflate
), and sometimes a figurative reproduction of the
Latin verb (such as cut down for diminish
).
7. As Olsson (1961, 221-23) points out, however, a usage book such as that of
"Vigilans" (1952) is not consistent in recommending the simplex, suggesting at
times that one complex verb be replaced by another ( make a change for effect a
)
change and objecting simple
to verbs in -ize. On substitutions for phrasal verbs,
see Rickard (1910, 69), Kennedy (1920, 31-32, 38), Evans and Evans (1957, 17),

and Meyer (1975, 8-9). On substitutions for complex verbs, see Quirk et al. (1985,
1402), Carosso (1986, 139), and Mathes and Stevenson (1991, 331).
8. Kennedy (1920, 41-42) admits, however, that given the size of the English
vocabulary and the "artificial" Latinate borrowings of the English Renaissance, the
loss of some of these more specialized verbs "might almost seem worthy of
encouragement."
9. Suggestive remarks concerning the meaning of the complex verb construc-
tions can also be found in Poutsma (1926, 395), Kruisinga (1932, 200), Olsson
(1961, 190-99), and Green (1974, 227).
10. Complex verb structures containing a posssessive adjective coreferential
with the subject express a habit, as in Fred has not had his walk today (Olsson 1961,
111-14; Nickel 1968, 7; Stein 1991, 20).
202

11. Although Olsson (1961, 198, 216) recognizes that complex verbs frequently
contain attributive adjectives, he rejects the argument that adjectival modification
is more "convenient" than adverbial modification; it is, he asserts, simply a case of
"making virtue of necessity."
12. Prince (1972, 416-17) identifies a third class of manner adverbials in which
synonymy is likewise absent (e.g., Sue took an easy dive vs. Sue easily took a dive
)
because the adverb operates on the "realizational" component of meaning of the
complex verb.
13. These constitute Live’s (1973, 32, 36) Type III take—have phrasal, although
she considers the type peripheral. Her Type I corresponds to the forms in (1a) and
her Type II to the forms in (1c).
14. Stein (1991, 12-13) argues that pluralization points to an increased "degree
of lexicalization" in the deverbative noun, which corresponds to a shift from abstract
to concrete meaning. Furthermore, the meaning of the more lexicalized forms
departs from the meaning of the corresponding simplex verbs, thus have a bite ≠
bite and have a drink ≠ drink. She suggests that less lexicalized forms, such as chat,
do not allow pluralization, *have three chats.
15. In Brinton (1988, 176-84), I argue that the resultative meaning is not an
intrinsic part of the meaning of the phrasal verb but rather derives from the
combination of semantic focus, perfective aspect, and the notion of goal expressed
by the verbal particles. Perfective aspect denotes the attainment of the goal, hence
the result of the action.
16. Bolinger (1971, 64, 66) notes a difference between the two constructions
resulting from the unity of the particle and the verb, which allows a definite noun
phrase to take end position when, as the "less newsworthy" and "anaphoric" item,
it should assume medial position; thus one can say Call up John but not *Get on
the phone John.
17. This function of the phrasal verb is perhaps implicitly recognized by
Kennedy (1920, 28), who remarks of the "rhythmic effect" of particles, which
"round out the speech rhythm by the interpolation of a syllable."
18. Complexities concerned with the interaction of the phrasal verb with other
types of situations (states, accomplishments, and punctual verbs) are taken up in
Brinton (1988, 173-75). The postverbal particles on, along, and away serve a rather
different aspectual function, that of denoting continuative aspect, for example, The
carpenter chipped away at the plaster, The politician babbled on about the
campaign, The runners jogged along (on) for miles (175-76).
19. Complexities concerning the interaction of the complex verb with other types
of situations are treated briefly in Brinton (1995). I intend to treat the aspectual
features of complex verbs in greater detail in a future paper.
 203

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