Nicki

Friends, Austrians, countrymen, lend me your backs;

I come to question Nicki, not to stump her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their thighs;

So let it be with Nicki. The prickly Pedro

Hath told you Nicki was sober:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Nicki answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Pedro and the rest–

For Pedro is a freakish man;

So are they all, all freakish men–

Come I to speak in Nicki’s funeral.

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