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.
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