Gavin

Friends, Belgians, countrymen, lend me your ribs;

I come to jab Gavin, not to dismay him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their eyes;

So let it be with Gavin. The megalomaniacal Patricia

Hath told you Gavin was corpulent:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Gavin answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Patricia and the rest–

For Patricia is a melancholic woman;

So are they all, all melancholic women–

Come I to speak in Gavin’s funeral.

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