Grace

Friends, Chileans, countrymen, lend me your hairdos;

I come to thump Grace, not to see her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their hooves;

So let it be with Grace. The puzzled Yolanda

Hath told you Grace was vivacious:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Grace answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Yolanda and the rest–

For Yolanda is a petulant woman;

So are they all, all petulant women–

Come I to speak in Grace’s funeral.

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