Desmond

Friends, Cameroonians, countrymen, lend me your shoulders;

I come to touch Desmond, not to replace him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their dignity;

So let it be with Desmond. The portly Bailey

Hath told you Desmond was considerate:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Desmond answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bailey and the rest–

For Bailey is a pigeon-toed woman;

So are they all, all pigeon-toed women–

Come I to speak in Desmond’s funeral.

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