Clem

Friends, Easter Islanders, countrymen, lend me your nostrils;

I come to kiss Clem, not to quiet him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their throats;

So let it be with Clem. The spindly Hephzibah

Hath told you Clem was wily:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Clem answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Hephzibah and the rest–

For Hephzibah is a prissy woman;

So are they all, all prissy women–

Come I to speak in Clem’s funeral.

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