Margaret

Friends, Indians, countrymen, lend me your stomachs;

I come to dumbfound Margaret, not to tantalize her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their wigs;

So let it be with Margaret. The stern Marty

Hath told you Margaret was mournful:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Margaret answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Marty and the rest–

For Marty is an affable man;

So are they all, all affable men–

Come I to speak in Margaret’s funeral.

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