Dale

Friends, Turks, countrymen, lend me your appendixes;

I come to apologize to Dale, not to grab him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their thumbs;

So let it be with Dale. The crafty Mackenzie

Hath told you Dale was noxious:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Dale answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Mackenzie and the rest–

For Mackenzie is a sleepy woman;

So are they all, all sleepy women–

Come I to speak in Dale’s funeral.

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