Ling

Friends, Peruvians, countrymen, lend me your larynxes;

I come to correct Ling, not to outwit her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their faces;

So let it be with Ling. The miniscule Ray

Hath told you Ling was unselfish:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Ling answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Ray and the rest–

For Ray is a cautious man;

So are they all, all cautious men–

Come I to speak in Ling’s funeral.

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