Maureen

Friends, Sandwich Islanders, countrymen, lend me your femurs;

I come to fry Maureen, not to scare her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their skulls;

So let it be with Maureen. The portly Denise

Hath told you Maureen was insane:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Maureen answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Denise and the rest–

For Denise is an elderly woman;

So are they all, all elderly women–

Come I to speak in Maureen’s funeral.

Next Chapter