Friends, Americans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Anthony Weiner, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
the good is oft interred with their bones;
so let it be with Weiner. The noble Breitbart
Hath told you Weiner was licentious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
and grievously hath Weiner answered it.
Here, under leave of Breitbart and the rest–
For Breitbart is an honorable man;
so are they all, all honorable men–
Come I to speak at Weiner’s political funeral.
He was a party member, faithful and just to us:
But Breitbart says he was licentious;
And Breitbart is an honourable man.
He hath brought many dollars home to NYC
whose monies did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Weiner seem licentious?
When that the poor have cried, Weiner hath wept:
Licentiousness should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Breitbart says he was licentious;
And Breitbart is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the TV
He has all but been presented with a mayoral crown,
which he should refuse? What of licentiousness?
Yet Breitbart says he was licentious;
and, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Breitbart spoke,
but here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! Thou art fled to brutish beasts,
and men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
my heart is in the coffin there with Weiner,
and I must pause till it come back to me.
My apologies to The Bard, but to no one else.
Ave! Ave, Marquis!