Bix

Friends, Russians, countrymen, lend me your elbows;

I come to confront Bix, not to damage him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their spinal cords;

So let it be with Bix. The athletic Krystal

Hath told you Bix was radiant:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Bix answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Krystal and the rest–

For Krystal is an ungainly woman;

So are they all, all ungainly women–

Come I to speak in Bix’s funeral.

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