Friends, Czechs, countrymen, lend me your pituitary glands;
I come to cozy up to Pleasance, not to dance with her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their skins;
So let it be with Pleasance. The friendly Fifi
Hath told you Pleasance was silly:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Pleasance answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Fifi and the rest–
For Fifi is an insane woman;
So are they all, all insane women–
Come I to speak in Pleasance’s funeral.
Next Chapter