Claudia

Friends, Hungarians, countrymen, lend me your eyelashes;

I come to bump Claudia, not to trust her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their pituitary glands;

So let it be with Claudia. The self-confident Gerald

Hath told you Claudia was intrepid:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Claudia answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Gerald and the rest–

For Gerald is an athletic man;

So are they all, all athletic men–

Come I to speak in Claudia’s funeral.

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