Cedric

Friends, Cubans, countrymen, lend me your hair;

I come to hug Cedric, not to listen to him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their spinal cords;

So let it be with Cedric. The sketchy Alan

Hath told you Cedric was pensive:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Cedric answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Alan and the rest–

For Alan is a beautiful man;

So are they all, all beautiful men–

Come I to speak in Cedric’s funeral.

Next Chapter