Martina

Friends, Chileans, countrymen, lend me your esophaguses;

I come to banish Martina, not to sing to her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their earlobes;

So let it be with Martina. The mournful Belle

Hath told you Martina was fashionable:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Martina answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Belle and the rest–

For Belle is an obnoxious woman;

So are they all, all obnoxious women–

Come I to speak in Martina’s funeral.

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