Deirdre

Friends, Dutch, countrymen, lend me your esophaguses;

I come to laugh at Deirdre, not to exclude her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their thyroid glands;

So let it be with Deirdre. The conceited Keith

Hath told you Deirdre was stern:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Deirdre answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Keith and the rest–

For Keith is a distressed man;

So are they all, all distressed men–

Come I to speak in Deirdre’s funeral.

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