Cecelia

Friends, Finns, countrymen, lend me your Adam's apples;

I come to try to control Cecelia, not to punish her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their palms;

So let it be with Cecelia. The colorless Clem

Hath told you Cecelia was apoplectic:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Cecelia answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Clem and the rest–

For Clem is a wicked man;

So are they all, all wicked men–

Come I to speak in Cecelia’s funeral.

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