Babs

Friends, Kosovoans, countrymen, lend me your eyes;

I come to confuse Babs, not to pat her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their antennae;

So let it be with Babs. The decisive Amber

Hath told you Babs was poised:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Babs answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Amber and the rest–

For Amber is a lanky woman;

So are they all, all lanky women–

Come I to speak in Babs’s funeral.

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