Raúl

Friends, Chileans, countrymen, lend me your tummies;

I come to bond with Raúl, not to quiet him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their mouths;

So let it be with Raúl. The princely Charlene

Hath told you Raúl was resolute:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Raúl answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Charlene and the rest–

For Charlene is a weird woman;

So are they all, all weird women–

Come I to speak in Raúl’s funeral.

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