Camella

Friends, Americans, countrymen, lend me your thighs;

I come to leave Camella, not to subdue her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their funny bones;

So let it be with Camella. The choleric Bradley

Hath told you Camella was earnest:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Camella answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bradley and the rest–

For Bradley is a crazy man;

So are they all, all crazy men–

Come I to speak in Camella’s funeral.

Next Chapter