Emmeline

Friends, Liechtensteinians, countrymen, lend me your biceps;

I come to disparage Emmeline, not to scream at her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their shins;

So let it be with Emmeline. The rapacious Vilmer

Hath told you Emmeline was muddled:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Emmeline answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Vilmer and the rest–

For Vilmer is a furious man;

So are they all, all furious men–

Come I to speak in Emmeline’s funeral.

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