Freddie

Friends, Hungarians, countrymen, lend me your shins;

I come to charm Freddie, not to blink at him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their Adam's apples;

So let it be with Freddie. The pigeon-toed Randy

Hath told you Freddie was haggard:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Freddie answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Randy and the rest–

For Randy is a brash man;

So are they all, all brash men–

Come I to speak in Freddie’s funeral.

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