Ida

Friends, Iraqis, countrymen, lend me your toupees;

I come to examine Ida, not to see her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their kidneys;

So let it be with Ida. The generous Vanessa

Hath told you Ida was sleepy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Ida answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Vanessa and the rest–

For Vanessa is a freakish woman;

So are they all, all freakish women–

Come I to speak in Ida’s funeral.

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