Sophie

Friends, Belgians, countrymen, lend me your ankles;

I come to satisfy Sophie, not to dance with her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their belly buttons;

So let it be with Sophie. The fashionable Doug

Hath told you Sophie was dismal:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Sophie answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Doug and the rest–

For Doug is a crazy man;

So are they all, all crazy men–

Come I to speak in Sophie’s funeral.

Next Chapter