Peter

Friends, Brits, countrymen, lend me your legs;

I come to annoy Peter, not to stump him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their carotid arteries;

So let it be with Peter. The noxious Harriet

Hath told you Peter was sloppy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Peter answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Harriet and the rest–

For Harriet is a serious woman;

So are they all, all serious women–

Come I to speak in Peter’s funeral.

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