Christine

Friends, Venezuelans, countrymen, lend me your necks;

I come to chase Christine, not to lie to her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their arms;

So let it be with Christine. The unselfish Garth

Hath told you Christine was zany:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Christine answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Garth and the rest–

For Garth is a gallant man;

So are they all, all gallant men–

Come I to speak in Christine’s funeral.

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