Mario

Friends, Albanians, countrymen, lend me your femurs;

I come to ignore Mario, not to shave him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their spleens;

So let it be with Mario. The princely Buster

Hath told you Mario was shy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Mario answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Buster and the rest–

For Buster is a cute man;

So are they all, all cute men–

Come I to speak in Mario’s funeral.

Next Chapter