Horatio

Friends, Panamanians, countrymen, lend me your egos;

I come to bite Horatio, not to date him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their claws;

So let it be with Horatio. The decent Sandi

Hath told you Horatio was childish:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Horatio answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Sandi and the rest–

For Sandi is an articulate woman;

So are they all, all articulate women–

Come I to speak in Horatio’s funeral.

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