Tori

Friends, Cambodians, countrymen, lend me your arteries;

I come to scar Tori, not to wrestle with her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their lips;

So let it be with Tori. The absent-minded Konstanze

Hath told you Tori was sketchy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Tori answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Konstanze and the rest–

For Konstanze is a spindly woman;

So are they all, all spindly women–

Come I to speak in Tori’s funeral.

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