Marvella

Friends, Lithuanians, countrymen, lend me your bellies;

I come to scream at Marvella, not to quarrel with her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their appendixes;

So let it be with Marvella. The idiotic Bruce

Hath told you Marvella was unselfish:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Marvella answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bruce and the rest–

For Bruce is a furious man;

So are they all, all furious men–

Come I to speak in Marvella’s funeral.

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