Friends, Iraqis, countrymen, lend me your waists;
I come to kiss Bev, not to poke her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their beards;
So let it be with Bev. The difficult Kenneth
Hath told you Bev was obnoxious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Bev answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Kenneth and the rest–
For Kenneth is a naïve man;
So are they all, all naïve men–
Come I to speak in Bev’s funeral.
Next Chapter