Friends, Liechtensteinians, countrymen, lend me your chests;
I come to embarrass T.J., not to call the cops on him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their earlobes;
So let it be with T.J.. The refined Juanita
Hath told you T.J. was mournful:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath T.J. answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Juanita and the rest–
For Juanita is a dismal woman;
So are they all, all dismal women–
Come I to speak in T.J.’s funeral.
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