Jeremy

Friends, Botswanans, countrymen, lend me your aortas;

I come to shake Jeremy, not to step on him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their ankles;

So let it be with Jeremy. The enthusiastic Chloe

Hath told you Jeremy was lazy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Jeremy answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Chloe and the rest–

For Chloe is a brassy woman;

So are they all, all brassy women–

Come I to speak in Jeremy’s funeral.

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