Irving

Friends, Uruguayans, countrymen, lend me your Achilles tendons;

I come to go out with Irving, not to banish him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their belly buttons;

So let it be with Irving. The hirsute Britt

Hath told you Irving was sleek:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Irving answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Britt and the rest–

For Britt is an ungainly man;

So are they all, all ungainly men–

Come I to speak in Irving’s funeral.

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