Angie

Friends, Sri Lankans, countrymen, lend me your palms;

I come to believe Angie, not to berate her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their collarbones;

So let it be with Angie. The humble Bretta

Hath told you Angie was clever:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Angie answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bretta and the rest–

For Bretta is an urbane woman;

So are they all, all urbane women–

Come I to speak in Angie’s funeral.

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