Evette

Friends, Laotians, countrymen, lend me your ankles;

I come to punch Evette, not to arrest her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their beards;

So let it be with Evette. The masculine Shawna

Hath told you Evette was rugged:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Evette answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Shawna and the rest–

For Shawna is a mindless woman;

So are they all, all mindless women–

Come I to speak in Evette’s funeral.

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