Friends, Bermudans, countrymen, lend me your biceps;
I come to text Eubie, not to tantalize him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their noses;
So let it be with Eubie. The rapacious Evette
Hath told you Eubie was creepy:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Eubie answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Evette and the rest–
For Evette is a monstrous woman;
So are they all, all monstrous women–
Come I to speak in Eubie’s funeral.
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