Clarisa

Friends, Kiwis, countrymen, lend me your hooves;

I come to analyze Clarisa, not to befuddle her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their lungs;

So let it be with Clarisa. The jolly Lars

Hath told you Clarisa was sleek:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Clarisa answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Lars and the rest–

For Lars is an articulate man;

So are they all, all articulate men–

Come I to speak in Clarisa’s funeral.

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