Friends, Brits, countrymen, lend me your esophaguses;
I come to bore Billy, not to smack him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their toenails;
So let it be with Billy. The timid Sharice
Hath told you Billy was tense:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Billy answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Sharice and the rest–
For Sharice is an agile woman;
So are they all, all agile women–
Come I to speak in Billy’s funeral.
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