Lucia

Friends, Kosovoans, countrymen, lend me your hooves;

I come to manipulate Lucia, not to lose her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bladders;

So let it be with Lucia. The enchanting Klaus

Hath told you Lucia was moronic:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Lucia answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Klaus and the rest–

For Klaus is a witty man;

So are they all, all witty men–

Come I to speak in Lucia’s funeral.

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