1590s, "explode;" 1690s "cause to explode;" from blow (v.1) + up (adv.). From 1670s as "inflate, puff up." The figurative sense "lose one's temper" is from 1871.
As a noun, it is recorded from 1809 in the sense of "outburst, quarrel;" 1807 as "an explosion." The meaning "enlargement from a photograph" is attested by 1945 (the verbal phrase in this sense is by 1930). Old English had an adjective upablawan "upblown," used of a volcano, etc.
1660s, "arouse by knocking at the door," from knock (v.) + up (adv.). However it is little used in this sense in American English, where the phrase means "get a woman pregnant" (1813, in a New Jersey context), possibly ultimately from knock in a sense "to copulate with" (1590s; compare slang knocking-shop "brothel," 1860). To knock up also meant "to knock unconscious" in early 19c.
Knocked up in the United States, amongst females, the phrase is equivalent to being enciente, so that Englishmen often unconsciously commit themselves when amongst our Yankee cousins. [John Camden Hotten, "The Slang Dictionary," London, 1860]
Also "to exhaust, overcome or make ill with fatigue" (1737).
late 15c., earlier upsadoun (late 14c.), up so down (c. 1300); the so perhaps meaning "as if." As an adjective from 1866.
1940, from George H. Gallup (1901-1984), U.S. journalist and statistician, who in 1935 set up the American Institute of Public Opinion.
drawn up 1867 by Sir John Sholto Douglas (1844-1900), 8th Marquis of Queensberry, to govern the sport of boxing in Great Britain.
1930, originally of the Bank for International Settlements, set up in Basel by the League of Nations. The modern World Bank was created in 1944.
"official routine or formula," especially "excessive bureaucratic rigmarole," 1736, in reference to the red tape formerly used in Great Britain (and the American colonies) for binding up legal and other official documents, which is mentioned from 1690s.
1869; Englishing of vers libre.
But it is possible that excessive devotion to rhyme has thickened the modern ear. The rejection of rhyme is not a leap at facility; on the contrary, it imposes a much severer strain upon the language. When the comforting echo of rhyme is removed, success or failure in the choice of words, in the sentence structure, in the order, is at once more apparent. Rhyme removed, the poet is at once held up to the standards of prose. Rhyme removed, much ethereal music leaps up from the word, music which has hitherto chirped unnoticed in the expanse of prose. [T.S. Eliot, "Reflections on Vers libre," New Statesman, 3 March 1917]