Alas, poor ghost!
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
Speak; I am bound to hear.
So art thou to choler, when thou shalt hear.
What?
I am big pharma’s mouthpiece,
A paid tool of some drug’s maker,
A walking shadow, a money’d player
That smiles and signs his name upon a page.
I was forbid to tell the secrets of my counting-house,
But now good Grassley has them out. List, list, O, list!
O God!