Desmond

Friends, Salvadorans, countrymen, lend me your feet;

I come to hypnotize Desmond, not to investigate him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their scalps;

So let it be with Desmond. The cantankerous Anna

Hath told you Desmond was dismal:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Desmond answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Anna and the rest–

For Anna is a bad woman;

So are they all, all bad women–

Come I to speak in Desmond’s funeral.

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