James

Friends, Bermudans, countrymen, lend me your hangnails;

I come to spit at James, not to draw strength from him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their ribs;

So let it be with James. The decisive Willard

Hath told you James was jaunty:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath James answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Willard and the rest–

For Willard is a sloppy man;

So are they all, all sloppy men–

Come I to speak in James’s funeral.

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