Cassie

Friends, Panamanians, countrymen, lend me your fingers;

I come to argue with Cassie, not to torment her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their feet;

So let it be with Cassie. The artistic Olive

Hath told you Cassie was rugged:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Cassie answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Olive and the rest–

For Olive is a sketchy woman;

So are they all, all sketchy women–

Come I to speak in Cassie’s funeral.

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