Bria

Friends, Congolese, countrymen, lend me your midriffs;

I come to argue with Bria, not to double-cross her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their necks;

So let it be with Bria. The intense Magnolia

Hath told you Bria was absent-minded:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Bria answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Magnolia and the rest–

For Magnolia is a coy woman;

So are they all, all coy women–

Come I to speak in Bria’s funeral.

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