Betsy

Friends, Tibetans, countrymen, lend me your gall bladders;

I come to bore Betsy, not to neglect her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their stomachs;

So let it be with Betsy. The resolute Heather

Hath told you Betsy was crazy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Betsy answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Heather and the rest–

For Heather is a polite woman;

So are they all, all polite women–

Come I to speak in Betsy’s funeral.

Next Chapter