Stacy

Friends, Maltese, countrymen, lend me your fingernails;

I come to get to know Stacy, not to suspect her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their fingernails;

So let it be with Stacy. The shifty Marvella

Hath told you Stacy was brave:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Stacy answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Marvella and the rest–

For Marvella is a funny woman;

So are they all, all funny women–

Come I to speak in Stacy’s funeral.

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