Russ

Friends, Laotians, countrymen, lend me your thighs;

I come to enlighten Russ, not to study him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their pituitary glands;

So let it be with Russ. The peculiar Cliff

Hath told you Russ was distressed:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Russ answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Cliff and the rest–

For Cliff is a considerate man;

So are they all, all considerate men–

Come I to speak in Russ’s funeral.

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