Floyd

Friends, Singaporeans, countrymen, lend me your esophaguses;

I come to punch Floyd, not to remember him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their foreheads;

So let it be with Floyd. The mournful Dinah

Hath told you Floyd was pert:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Floyd answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Dinah and the rest–

For Dinah is a furry woman;

So are they all, all furry women–

Come I to speak in Floyd’s funeral.

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