W. Shakespeare, Hamlet, “GHOST: I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine
1960, P. G. Wodehouse, Jeeves in the Offing, Odd that he ghost should have said porpentine when he meant porcupine. Slip of the tongue, no doubt, as so often happens with ghosts.
