Preston

Friends, Bolivians, countrymen, lend me your skins;

I come to isolate Preston, not to bore him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their Adam's apples;

So let it be with Preston. The coy Geraldo

Hath told you Preston was pensive:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Preston answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Geraldo and the rest–

For Geraldo is a sincere man;

So are they all, all sincere men–

Come I to speak in Preston’s funeral.

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