Jesus

Friends, Turks, countrymen, lend me your midriffs;

I come to sting Jesus, not to torment him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their jaws;

So let it be with Jesus. The talkative Jason

Hath told you Jesus was boring:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Jesus answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Jason and the rest–

For Jason is a crazy man;

So are they all, all crazy men–

Come I to speak in Jesus’s funeral.

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