Friends, Uruguayans, countrymen, lend me your stomachs;
I come to giggle at Susanna, not to bury her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their adrenal glands;
So let it be with Susanna. The sweet Deborah
Hath told you Susanna was weird:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Susanna answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Deborah and the rest–
For Deborah is a zany woman;
So are they all, all zany women–
Come I to speak in Susanna’s funeral.
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