Shirley

Friends, Americans, countrymen, lend me your appendixes;

I come to step on Shirley, not to irritate her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their spines;

So let it be with Shirley. The pigeon-toed Sinclair

Hath told you Shirley was childish:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Shirley answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Sinclair and the rest–

For Sinclair is a fearless man;

So are they all, all fearless men–

Come I to speak in Shirley’s funeral.

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