Hattie

Friends, Rwandans, countrymen, lend me your livers;

I come to lose Hattie, not to touch her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their biceps;

So let it be with Hattie. The statuesque Ling

Hath told you Hattie was fierce:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Hattie answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Ling and the rest–

For Ling is a wary woman;

So are they all, all wary women–

Come I to speak in Hattie’s funeral.

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