Belle

Friends, Pakistanis, countrymen, lend me your appendixes;

I come to argue with Belle, not to wink at her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their appendixes;

So let it be with Belle. The eccentric Hilda

Hath told you Belle was prickly:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Belle answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Hilda and the rest–

For Hilda is an unselfish woman;

So are they all, all unselfish women–

Come I to speak in Belle’s funeral.

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