Evelyn

Friends, Greeks, countrymen, lend me your hips;

I come to attack Evelyn, not to touch her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their aortas;

So let it be with Evelyn. The powerful Lars

Hath told you Evelyn was fearful:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Evelyn answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Lars and the rest–

For Lars is a quiet man;

So are they all, all quiet men–

Come I to speak in Evelyn’s funeral.

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