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  • Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.

    Richard Harris Barham
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    Richard Harris Barham (1847). “The Ingoldsby Legends Or Mirth and Marvels”, p.357
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Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest. - Richard Harris Barham
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