Friends, Nicaraguans, countrymen, lend me your hangnails;
I come to delight Billy Bob, not to pick him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their Achilles tendons;
So let it be with Billy Bob. The bad Marvella
Hath told you Billy Bob was lanky:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Billy Bob answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Marvella and the rest–
For Marvella is an ignoble woman;
So are they all, all ignoble women–
Come I to speak in Billy Bob’s funeral.
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