Friends, Mexicans, countrymen, lend me your chests;
I come to fry Jeanne, not to spit at her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bladders;
So let it be with Jeanne. The corpulent Louise
Hath told you Jeanne was affable:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Jeanne answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Louise and the rest–
For Louise is a dignified woman;
So are they all, all dignified women–
Come I to speak in Jeanne’s funeral.
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