Nicolas

Friends, Equadorans, countrymen, lend me your kidneys;

I come to write Nicolas, not to go out with him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their adrenal glands;

So let it be with Nicolas. The yappy Darlene

Hath told you Nicolas was slimy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Nicolas answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Darlene and the rest–

For Darlene is a colorless woman;

So are they all, all colorless women–

Come I to speak in Nicolas’s funeral.

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