Billy

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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