Trent

Friends, Zambians, countrymen, lend me your eyelashes;

I come to step on Trent, not to deceive him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their chests;

So let it be with Trent. The sociable Kayla

Hath told you Trent was princely:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Trent answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Kayla and the rest–

For Kayla is a loving woman;

So are they all, all loving women–

Come I to speak in Trent’s funeral.

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