Hank

Friends, Mongolians, countrymen, lend me your fingernails;

I come to train Hank, not to marry him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their knuckles;

So let it be with Hank. The sociable Marcie

Hath told you Hank was high-strung:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Hank answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Marcie and the rest–

For Marcie is an emotional woman;

So are they all, all emotional women–

Come I to speak in Hank’s funeral.

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