a lentil salad

Mor. Miſlike me not for my complexion, The ſhadowed liuerie of the burniſht ſunne, To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred. Bring me the faireſt creature North-ward borne, Where Phœbus fire ſcarce thawes the yſicles, And let vs make inciſion for your loue, To proue whoſe blood is reddeſt, his or mine.

The delivery was completed by four.

Parameswaran, intent on puffing, raised one eyebrow and grimaced non-committally.