Humphrey

Friends, Maltese, countrymen, lend me your elbows;

I come to split up with Humphrey, not to stalk him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their toes;

So let it be with Humphrey. The mindless Oscar

Hath told you Humphrey was articulate:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Humphrey answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Oscar and the rest–

For Oscar is a shy man;

So are they all, all shy men–

Come I to speak in Humphrey’s funeral.

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