Friends, Liechtensteinians, countrymen, lend me your intestines;
I come to joke with Charles, not to tantalize him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their tummies;
So let it be with Charles. The hirsute Ginger
Hath told you Charles was careful:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Charles answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Ginger and the rest–
For Ginger is an urbane woman;
So are they all, all urbane women–
Come I to speak in Charles’s funeral.
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