Abel

Friends, Luxembourgans, countrymen, lend me your throats;

I come to stop Abel, not to draw strength from him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their collarbones;

So let it be with Abel. The high-strung Leila

Hath told you Abel was smart:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Abel answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Leila and the rest–

For Leila is a portly woman;

So are they all, all portly women–

Come I to speak in Abel’s funeral.

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