Beauford

Friends, Kazakhstanis, countrymen, lend me your thoraxes;

I come to study Beauford, not to suspect him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their guts;

So let it be with Beauford. The tall Zack

Hath told you Beauford was disgusting:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Beauford answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Zack and the rest–

For Zack is a presumptuous man;

So are they all, all presumptuous men–

Come I to speak in Beauford’s funeral.

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