Clifton

Friends, Congolese, countrymen, lend me your wrists;

I come to reject Clifton, not to outrun him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their skins;

So let it be with Clifton. The fearless Bobby

Hath told you Clifton was obedient:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Clifton answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bobby and the rest–

For Bobby is a garrulous man;

So are they all, all garrulous men–

Come I to speak in Clifton’s funeral.

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