James

Friends, Afghanis, countrymen, lend me your little fingers;

I come to draw strength from James, not to date him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their egos;

So let it be with James. The sophisticated Rosa

Hath told you James was tired:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath James answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Rosa and the rest–

For Rosa is a cruel woman;

So are they all, all cruel women–

Come I to speak in James’s funeral.

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