Friends, Ethopians, countrymen, lend me your skins;
I come to mess with Antoinette, not to exclude her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their brains;
So let it be with Antoinette. The passionate DeWitt
Hath told you Antoinette was garrulous:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Antoinette answer’d it.
Here, under leave of DeWitt and the rest–
For DeWitt is a frumpy man;
So are they all, all frumpy men–
Come I to speak in Antoinette’s funeral.
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