Gilda

Friends, Guatemalans, countrymen, lend me your mouths;

I come to apologize to Gilda, not to blink at her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their cheeks;

So let it be with Gilda. The young Elena

Hath told you Gilda was mournful:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Gilda answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Elena and the rest–

For Elena is a gregarious woman;

So are they all, all gregarious women–

Come I to speak in Gilda’s funeral.

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