Mickey

Friends, Danes, countrymen, lend me your wigs;

I come to trip Mickey, not to study him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their kneecaps;

So let it be with Mickey. The decent Petunia

Hath told you Mickey was energetic:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Mickey answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Petunia and the rest–

For Petunia is a dreadful woman;

So are they all, all dreadful women–

Come I to speak in Mickey’s funeral.

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