Bronk

Friends, Zambians, countrymen, lend me your calves;

I come to slap Bronk, not to belittle him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their eyes;

So let it be with Bronk. The drowsy Edmond

Hath told you Bronk was loving:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Bronk answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Edmond and the rest–

For Edmond is a big man;

So are they all, all big men–

Come I to speak in Bronk’s funeral.

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