Friends, Brazilians, countrymen, lend me your waists;
I come to call Daisy, not to dump her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their biceps;
So let it be with Daisy. The precocious JD
Hath told you Daisy was quiet:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Daisy answer’d it.
Here, under leave of JD and the rest–
For JD is a fierce man;
So are they all, all fierce men–
Come I to speak in Daisy’s funeral.
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