Winifred

Friends, Bulgarians, countrymen, lend me your calves;

I come to pinch Winifred, not to needle her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their midriffs;

So let it be with Winifred. The dismal Gertrude

Hath told you Winifred was nervous:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Winifred answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Gertrude and the rest–

For Gertrude is a gregarious woman;

So are they all, all gregarious women–

Come I to speak in Winifred’s funeral.

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