Lynn

Friends, Norwegians, countrymen, lend me your shoulders;

I come to pat Lynn, not to call the cops on her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their mouths;

So let it be with Lynn. The vile Jake

Hath told you Lynn was considerate:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Lynn answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Jake and the rest–

For Jake is a young man;

So are they all, all young men–

Come I to speak in Lynn’s funeral.

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