Charlie

Friends, Austrians, countrymen, lend me your spinal cords;

I come to scare Charlie, not to damage him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their thumbs;

So let it be with Charlie. The weird Bruno

Hath told you Charlie was mean:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Charlie answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bruno and the rest–

For Bruno is an earnest man;

So are they all, all earnest men–

Come I to speak in Charlie’s funeral.

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