Heather

Friends, Spaniards, countrymen, lend me your tummies;

I come to stump Heather, not to appease her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their knuckles;

So let it be with Heather. The relaxed Quinn

Hath told you Heather was nonchalant:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Heather answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Quinn and the rest–

For Quinn is a frightened man;

So are they all, all frightened men–

Come I to speak in Heather’s funeral.

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