Candi

Friends, Serbians, countrymen, lend me your lungs;

I come to trust Candi, not to push her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their heads;

So let it be with Candi. The frightened Kent

Hath told you Candi was rugged:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Candi answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Kent and the rest–

For Kent is a homely man;

So are they all, all homely men–

Come I to speak in Candi’s funeral.

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