Lorie

Friends, Mexicans, countrymen, lend me your claws;

I come to thump Lorie, not to astonish her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their chests;

So let it be with Lorie. The hirsute Jan

Hath told you Lorie was lanky:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Lorie answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Jan and the rest–

For Jan is a thoughtful woman;

So are they all, all thoughtful women–

Come I to speak in Lorie’s funeral.

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