Dusty

Friends, Lower Slobbovians, countrymen, lend me your buttocks;

I come to indoctrinate Dusty, not to trust her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their kneecaps;

So let it be with Dusty. The insane Nicole

Hath told you Dusty was carefree:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Dusty answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Nicole and the rest–

For Nicole is a coy woman;

So are they all, all coy women–

Come I to speak in Dusty’s funeral.

Next Chapter