LaVerne

Friends, Irish, countrymen, lend me your hands;

I come to bore LaVerne, not to sanitize her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their pinkies;

So let it be with LaVerne. The shy Tex

Hath told you LaVerne was amiable:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath LaVerne answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Tex and the rest–

For Tex is a loving man;

So are they all, all loving men–

Come I to speak in LaVerne’s funeral.

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