Squash, kernel

Winter’s Tale, [1.2.153-161]. Leontes. “Looking on the lines/ Of my boy’s face, methoughts I did recoil/ Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech’d,/ In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled/ Lest it should bit its master and so prove,/ As ornaments oft doo, too dangerous./ How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,/ This sqaush, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,/ Will you take effs for money?”

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