Kelley

Friends, Indians, countrymen, lend me your wrists;

I come to love Kelley, not to kick her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their arteries;

So let it be with Kelley. The zany Matilda

Hath told you Kelley was passionate:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Kelley answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Matilda and the rest–

For Matilda is a disgusting woman;

So are they all, all disgusting women–

Come I to speak in Kelley’s funeral.

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