Theresa

Friends, Moroccans, countrymen, lend me your dignity;

I come to quarrel with Theresa, not to judge her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their hearts;

So let it be with Theresa. The anemic Romeo

Hath told you Theresa was nonchalant:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Theresa answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Romeo and the rest–

For Romeo is an urbane man;

So are they all, all urbane men–

Come I to speak in Theresa’s funeral.

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