Josephine

Friends, Ethopians, countrymen, lend me your faces;

I come to bore Josephine, not to examine her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their carotid arteries;

So let it be with Josephine. The pigeon-toed Nicholas

Hath told you Josephine was bizarre:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Josephine answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Nicholas and the rest–

For Nicholas is a modest man;

So are they all, all modest men–

Come I to speak in Josephine’s funeral.

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