Friends, Portuguese, countrymen, lend me your teeth;
I come to delight Joanne, not to look at her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their feet;
So let it be with Joanne. The talkative Jay
Hath told you Joanne was cautious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Joanne answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Jay and the rest–
For Jay is a dark man;
So are they all, all dark men–
Come I to speak in Joanne’s funeral.
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