Epitaphs and gribbles

"To be or not to be? Is it a question?" said Prof. H. I. Storicist.

"Good lord! Dead men do soliloquize!" And, then a more worrying thought. "Live men don't — unless I'm an actor. All the world's a stage! I wish I could think of something that wasn't a quotation."

"You would have just thought you did, if you had thought of it, but you didn't — anyway, it doesn't matter!" said the Rabbi, "What a very odd suicide note — didn't know the old buffer could write anything that interesting. Probably not his fault. Swans sing before they die — Oh death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling... Perhaps it has something to do with the problematics of the epitaph."

And to the Professor's silent horror, she started to make notes.

A limerick rhyming in "wibble"
Is really a bit of a fiddle
Well that didn't rhyme
But I'll mention in time
A woodlouse-like thing called a "gribble"! (Honest.)

If... this is Thursday, it must be Budapest.
        [Found poem: Michael Berk] surely {tick}Dorothy