Friends, Norwegians, countrymen, lend me your guts;
I come to break Yvonne, not to consider her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their esophaguses;
So let it be with Yvonne. The high-strung Mario
Hath told you Yvonne was muscular:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Yvonne answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Mario and the rest–
For Mario is an insane man;
So are they all, all insane men–
Come I to speak in Yvonne’s funeral.
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