Greta

Friends, Rwandans, countrymen, lend me your hangnails;

I come to attack Greta, not to frighten her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their biceps;

So let it be with Greta. The desperate Evette

Hath told you Greta was frightened:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Greta answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Evette and the rest–

For Evette is a distressed woman;

So are they all, all distressed women–

Come I to speak in Greta’s funeral.

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