Logan

Friends, Japanese, countrymen, lend me your collarbones;

I come to pat Logan, not to have a talk with him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their femurs;

So let it be with Logan. The bizarre Betty

Hath told you Logan was apoplectic:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Logan answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Betty and the rest–

For Betty is a selfish woman;

So are they all, all selfish women–

Come I to speak in Logan’s funeral.

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