Jasmine

Friends, Lebanese, countrymen, lend me your egos;

I come to befuddle Jasmine, not to argue with her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their biceps;

So let it be with Jasmine. The lanky Stuart

Hath told you Jasmine was muscular:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Jasmine answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Stuart and the rest–

For Stuart is a muddled man;

So are they all, all muddled men–

Come I to speak in Jasmine’s funeral.

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