Alcoholics, Addicts, Gentlemen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury my addiction, not praise it.
The evil that men do lives after them.
the good is often interred with their bones;
So let it lay with addiction. Our noble counsellors
have told you Addiction was ambitious.
As it were so; It was no grievous fault;
It was grievous that is answered it.
Here under leave of my counsellor and the rest,
I reside an honourable man.
So are all of you honourable men.
I come to speak at my addiction’s funeral.
I once believed it to be my friend, faithful and just to me.
It took many parts of me captive,
Whose ransom I did fill.
Did this addiction seem ambitious?
When the shell of me wept, it wept too.
Should I have been made of sterner stuff.
My counsellor warned me it was ambitious.
And, sure, I was an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what my counsellor spoke.
I did love it once, not without cause:
That cause held me then, for now I mourn.
O Judgement! you fleshed a brutish beast;
And I have lost my purpose.
Bear with me, as my heart is in that coffin,
And I must pause till it comes back to me.