Friends, Liechtensteinians, countrymen, lend me your backs;
I come to amuse Jolene, not to chase her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their femurs;
So let it be with Jolene. The cruel Shelley
Hath told you Jolene was passionate:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Jolene answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Shelley and the rest–
For Shelley is a lanky woman;
So are they all, all lanky women–
Come I to speak in Jolene’s funeral.
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