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- WEBTERIOR DESIGN -

No longer mourn for me when I am dead / Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell / Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell. Nay, if you read this line, remember not / The hand that writ it, for I love you so / That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe.

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