Matilda

Friends, Equadorans, countrymen, lend me your elbows;

I come to hide from Matilda, not to look at her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their heads;

So let it be with Matilda. The radiant Sheryl

Hath told you Matilda was petulant:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Matilda answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Sheryl and the rest–

For Sheryl is a hungry woman;

So are they all, all hungry women–

Come I to speak in Matilda’s funeral.

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