Stan

Friends, Swedes, countrymen, lend me your spines;

I come to disparage Stan, not to smile at him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their scalps;

So let it be with Stan. The contented Fuzz

Hath told you Stan was mean:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Stan answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Fuzz and the rest–

For Fuzz is a bubbly man;

So are they all, all bubbly men–

Come I to speak in Stan’s funeral.

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