Avery

Friends, South Sudanese, countrymen, lend me your wigs;

I come to stun Avery, not to marry her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their gall bladders;

So let it be with Avery. The carefree Don

Hath told you Avery was noble:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Avery answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Don and the rest–

For Don is a hirsute man;

So are they all, all hirsute men–

Come I to speak in Avery’s funeral.

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