Rosa

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

I come to text Rosa, not to charm her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their ankles;

So let it be with Rosa. The monstrous Pleasance

Hath told you Rosa was miniscule:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Rosa answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Pleasance and the rest–

For Pleasance is a powerful woman;

So are they all, all powerful women–

Come I to speak in Rosa’s funeral.

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