René

Friends, Nepalese, countrymen, lend me your lungs;

I come to berate René, not to defeat him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their arms;

So let it be with René. The amiable Bridget

Hath told you René was somber:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath René answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bridget and the rest–

For Bridget is a stinky woman;

So are they all, all stinky women–

Come I to speak in René’s funeral.

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