Hugo

Friends, Luxembourgans, countrymen, lend me your thighs;

I come to stump Hugo, not to blink at him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their toenails;

So let it be with Hugo. The lazy Midge

Hath told you Hugo was bald:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Hugo answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Midge and the rest–

For Midge is an ungainly woman;

So are they all, all ungainly women–

Come I to speak in Hugo’s funeral.

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