Nookie

Friends, Norwegians, countrymen, lend me your arteries;

I come to lick Nookie, not to berate her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their knees;

So let it be with Nookie. The vivacious Sig

Hath told you Nookie was elderly:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Nookie answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Sig and the rest–

For Sig is a masculine man;

So are they all, all masculine men–

Come I to speak in Nookie’s funeral.

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