Devon

Friends, Egyptians, countrymen, lend me your hands;

I come to rely on Devon, not to slap him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their noses;

So let it be with Devon. The naïve Sheryl

Hath told you Devon was decent:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Devon answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Sheryl and the rest–

For Sheryl is an arrogant woman;

So are they all, all arrogant women–

Come I to speak in Devon’s funeral.

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