Raymond

Friends, Frenchmen, countrymen, lend me your nostrils;

I come to compliment Raymond, not to belittle him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their toupees;

So let it be with Raymond. The dignified Frances

Hath told you Raymond was irate:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Raymond answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Frances and the rest–

For Frances is a selfish woman;

So are they all, all selfish women–

Come I to speak in Raymond’s funeral.

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