Friends, Haitians, countrymen, lend me your guts;
I come to mess with Blanca, not to whisper to her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their eyelashes;
So let it be with Blanca. The boring Calista
Hath told you Blanca was rugged:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Blanca answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Calista and the rest–
For Calista is an agile woman;
So are they all, all agile women–
Come I to speak in Blanca’s funeral.
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