Jeanne

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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