Hoss

Friends, Mongolians, countrymen, lend me your arms;

I come to exclude Hoss, not to soothe him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their nostrils;

So let it be with Hoss. The athletic Arthur

Hath told you Hoss was dependable:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Hoss answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Arthur and the rest–

For Arthur is an enchanting man;

So are they all, all enchanting men–

Come I to speak in Hoss’s funeral.

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