Dierdre

Friends, Chileans, countrymen, lend me your thoraxes;

I come to scream at Dierdre, not to replace her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their lips;

So let it be with Dierdre. The bald Edie

Hath told you Dierdre was suave:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Dierdre answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Edie and the rest–

For Edie is a tense woman;

So are they all, all tense women–

Come I to speak in Dierdre’s funeral.

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