Charles

Friends, Liechtensteinians, countrymen, lend me your intestines;

I come to joke with Charles, not to tantalize him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their tummies;

So let it be with Charles. The hirsute Ginger

Hath told you Charles was careful:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Charles answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Ginger and the rest–

For Ginger is an urbane woman;

So are they all, all urbane women–

Come I to speak in Charles’s funeral.

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