Mirabel

Friends, Irish, countrymen, lend me your carotid arteries;

I come to analyze Mirabel, not to encourage her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their cheeks;

So let it be with Mirabel. The self-assured Anastasia

Hath told you Mirabel was silly:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Mirabel answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Anastasia and the rest–

For Anastasia is a bubbly woman;

So are they all, all bubbly women–

Come I to speak in Mirabel’s funeral.

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