José

Friends, Belgians, countrymen, lend me your shoulders;

I come to please José, not to overlook him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their Adam's apples;

So let it be with José. The sophisticated Matilda

Hath told you José was shiftless:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath José answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Matilda and the rest–

For Matilda is a statuesque woman;

So are they all, all statuesque women–

Come I to speak in José’s funeral.

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