Friends, Armenians, countrymen, lend me your spleens;
I come to lick Maria, not to reeducate her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their scalps;
So let it be with Maria. The hysterical Beauford
Hath told you Maria was menacing:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Maria answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Beauford and the rest–
For Beauford is a cunning man;
So are they all, all cunning men–
Come I to speak in Maria’s funeral.
Next Chapter