Angela

Friends, Panamanians, countrymen, lend me your lips;

I come to pin Angela, not to argue with her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their heels;

So let it be with Angela. The apoplectic Wayne

Hath told you Angela was presumptuous:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Angela answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Wayne and the rest–

For Wayne is a desperate man;

So are they all, all desperate men–

Come I to speak in Angela’s funeral.

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