Tamara

Friends, Congolese, countrymen, lend me your knees;

I come to train Tamara, not to compliment her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their fingernails;

So let it be with Tamara. The insane Jacques

Hath told you Tamara was pigeon-toed:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Tamara answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Jacques and the rest–

For Jacques is a difficult man;

So are they all, all difficult men–

Come I to speak in Tamara’s funeral.

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