Seema

Friends, Chinese, countrymen, lend me your tummies;

I come to spill an iced tea on Seema, not to oppose her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their earlobes;

So let it be with Seema. The tactful Jean

Hath told you Seema was impish:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Seema answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Jean and the rest–

For Jean is an excitable woman;

So are they all, all excitable women–

Come I to speak in Seema’s funeral.

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