#HarperGate: The Life and Death of the #Harper #CPC – Scene: #cdnpoli, Act: Final #DuffyBookTitle

Friends, Humans, Canadians, lend us your ears;
We come to Dump Harper, 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 Harper. The noble Nigel Wright
Hath told you Harper was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Harper answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Nigel Wright and the rest –
For Nigel Wright is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men –
Come we to speak in Harper’s demise.
He was our friend, faithful and just to us:
But Nigel Wright says he was ambitious;
And Nigel Wright is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Ottawa
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Harper seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Harper hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Nigel Wright says he was ambitious;
And Nigel Wright is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Throne Speech
We thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice abuse: was this ambition?
Yet Nigel Wright says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
We speak not to disprove what Nigel Wright spoke,
But here we are to speak what we 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 us;
Our hearts are in the coffin there with Harper,
And we must pause till it come back to us.

But yesterday the word of Harper might
Have stood against the world; now lies he there.
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O masters, if we were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
We should do Nigel Wright wrong, and the House of Commons wrong,
and the Senate Chamber wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable humans:
We will not do them wrong; We rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong ourselves and you,
Than we will wrong such honourable humans.
But here’s a parchment with the seal of Harper;
We found it in his closet, ’tis his will:
Let but the commons hear this testament–
Which, pardon us, we do not mean to read–
And they would go and kiss dead Harper’s wounds
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood,
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Unto their issue.

Have patience, gentle friends, We must not read it;
It is not meet you know how Harper loved you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but humans;
And, being humans, bearing the will of Harper,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad:
‘Tis good you know not that you are his heirs;
For, if you should, O, what would come of it!

Will you be patient? will you stay awhile?
We have o’ershot ourselves to tell you of it:
We fear we wrong the honourable men
Whose daggers have stabb’d Harper; We do fear it.

You will compel us, then, to read the will?
Then make a ring about the corpse of Harper,
And let us show you him that made the will.
Shall we descend? and will you give us leave?

Nay, press not so upon us; stand far off.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle: We remember
The first time ever Harper put it on;
‘Twas on a summer’s evening, in his reformed caucus,
That day he overcame the Indiginous, Aboriginal and First Nations Peoples:
Look, in this place ran Tom Flanagans’ dagger through:
See what a rent the envious Mike Duffy made:
Through this the well-beloved Nigel Wright stabb’d;
And as he pluck’d his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Harper follow’d it,
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved
If Nigel Wright so unkindly knock’d, or no;
For Nigel Wright, as you know, was Harper’s angel:
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Harper loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Harper saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors’ arms,
Quite vanquish’d him: then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of the Conservative Party,
Which all the while ran blood, great Harper fell.
O, what a fall was there, our fellow humans!
Then we, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish’d over us.
O, now you weep; and, we perceive, you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold
Our Harper’s vesture wounded? Look you here,
Here is himself, marr’d, as you see, with traitors.

~ Anonymous 2013 ~


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