Avery

Friends, Panamanians, countrymen, lend me your chins;

I come to whisper to Avery, not to demean her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bellies;

So let it be with Avery. The carefree White Cloud

Hath told you Avery was pert:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Avery answer’d it.

Here, under leave of White Cloud and the rest–

For White Cloud is an obese man;

So are they all, all obese men–

Come I to speak in Avery’s funeral.

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