Kent

Friends, Swedes, countrymen, lend me your eyelids;

I come to mess with Kent, not to spank him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their lungs;

So let it be with Kent. The petulant Franklin

Hath told you Kent was fuzzy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Kent answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Franklin and the rest–

For Franklin is an amiable man;

So are they all, all amiable men–

Come I to speak in Kent’s funeral.

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