Faye

Friends, Kiwis, countrymen, lend me your tails;

I come to peek at Faye, not to baffle her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their chests;

So let it be with Faye. The wicked Cinderella

Hath told you Faye was hirsute:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Faye answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Cinderella and the rest–

For Cinderella is a jaunty woman;

So are they all, all jaunty women–

Come I to speak in Faye’s funeral.

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