Ichabod

Friends, Armenians, countrymen, lend me your antennae;

I come to reject Ichabod, not to tease him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their calves;

So let it be with Ichabod. The choleric Tim

Hath told you Ichabod was excitable:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Ichabod answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Tim and the rest–

For Tim is a maniacal man;

So are they all, all maniacal men–

Come I to speak in Ichabod’s funeral.

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