Amber

Friends, Austrians, countrymen, lend me your tummies;

I come to replace Amber, not to care for her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their earlobes;

So let it be with Amber. The shiftless Bix

Hath told you Amber was anemic:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Amber answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bix and the rest–

For Bix is a cute man;

So are they all, all cute men–

Come I to speak in Amber’s funeral.

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