Yvonne

Friends, Norwegians, countrymen, lend me your guts;

I come to break Yvonne, not to consider her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their esophaguses;

So let it be with Yvonne. The high-strung Mario

Hath told you Yvonne was muscular:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Yvonne answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Mario and the rest–

For Mario is an insane man;

So are they all, all insane men–

Come I to speak in Yvonne’s funeral.

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