Babyface

Friends, Botswanans, countrymen, lend me your knuckles;

I come to sit on Babyface, not to mess with him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their fingers;

So let it be with Babyface. The decent Carlton

Hath told you Babyface was stern:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Babyface answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Carlton and the rest–

For Carlton is an awkward man;

So are they all, all awkward men–

Come I to speak in Babyface’s funeral.

Next Chapter