Sophia

Friends, Lebanese, countrymen, lend me your throats;

I come to defeat Sophia, not to spill a root beer float on her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their ribs;

So let it be with Sophia. The spindly Douglas

Hath told you Sophia was mindless:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Sophia answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Douglas and the rest–

For Douglas is an intrepid man;

So are they all, all intrepid men–

Come I to speak in Sophia’s funeral.

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