Tina

Friends, Greeks, countrymen, lend me your ribs;

I come to pin Tina, not to lose her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their adrenal glands;

So let it be with Tina. The generous Saul

Hath told you Tina was cute:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Tina answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Saul and the rest–

For Saul is a hairy man;

So are they all, all hairy men–

Come I to speak in Tina’s funeral.

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