Matthew

Friends, Lithuanians, countrymen, lend me your lips;

I come to whisper to Matthew, not to banish him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their toenails;

So let it be with Matthew. The hysterical Barb

Hath told you Matthew was cruel:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Matthew answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Barb and the rest–

For Barb is a self-assured woman;

So are they all, all self-assured women–

Come I to speak in Matthew’s funeral.

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