Bruno

Friends, Hondurans, countrymen, lend me your pride;

I come to kiss Bruno, not to blink at him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their biceps;

So let it be with Bruno. The confident Isaac

Hath told you Bruno was talkative:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Bruno answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Isaac and the rest–

For Isaac is a tall man;

So are they all, all tall men–

Come I to speak in Bruno’s funeral.

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