Mandy

Friends, Laotians, countrymen, lend me your fingernails;

I come to needle Mandy, not to make a face at her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their noses;

So let it be with Mandy. The brassy Rhoda

Hath told you Mandy was crafty:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Mandy answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Rhoda and the rest–

For Rhoda is an ignoble woman;

So are they all, all ignoble women–

Come I to speak in Mandy’s funeral.

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