Blanca

Friends, Nicaraguans, countrymen, lend me your pituitary glands;

I come to suspect Blanca, not to bite her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their lips;

So let it be with Blanca. The powerful Nelda

Hath told you Blanca was peculiar:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Blanca answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Nelda and the rest–

For Nelda is a polite woman;

So are they all, all polite women–

Come I to speak in Blanca’s funeral.

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