Friends, Portuguese, countrymen, lend me your feet;
I come to dismay Bev, not to quiet her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their pancreases;
So let it be with Bev. The puzzled Heather
Hath told you Bev was dignified:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Bev answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Heather and the rest–
For Heather is an emotional woman;
So are they all, all emotional women–
Come I to speak in Bev’s funeral.
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