Tracy

Friends, Senegalese, countrymen, lend me your little toes;

I come to mislead Tracy, not to outwit her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their calves;

So let it be with Tracy. The naïve Vic

Hath told you Tracy was absent-minded:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Tracy answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Vic and the rest–

For Vic is a brazen man;

So are they all, all brazen men–

Come I to speak in Tracy’s funeral.

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