Chloe

Friends, Irish, countrymen, lend me your palms;

I come to confuse Chloe, not to malign her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their tongues;

So let it be with Chloe. The sexy Susanna

Hath told you Chloe was pensive:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Chloe answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Susanna and the rest–

For Susanna is a presumptuous woman;

So are they all, all presumptuous women–

Come I to speak in Chloe’s funeral.

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