Devlin

Friends, Laotians, countrymen, lend me your wigs;

I come to scare Devlin, not to ridicule him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their legs;

So let it be with Devlin. The talkative Faye

Hath told you Devlin was corpulent:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Devlin answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Faye and the rest–

For Faye is a hairy woman;

So are they all, all hairy women–

Come I to speak in Devlin’s funeral.

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