Audrey

Friends, Portuguese, countrymen, lend me your livers;

I come to outwit Audrey, not to quiet her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their knuckles;

So let it be with Audrey. The colorless Stephanie

Hath told you Audrey was athletic:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Audrey answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Stephanie and the rest–

For Stephanie is a portly woman;

So are they all, all portly women–

Come I to speak in Audrey’s funeral.

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