Rebecca

Friends, South Africans, countrymen, lend me your abdomens;

I come to lead Rebecca, not to tease her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their faces;

So let it be with Rebecca. The tired Katy

Hath told you Rebecca was self-assured:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Rebecca answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Katy and the rest–

For Katy is a happy woman;

So are they all, all happy women–

Come I to speak in Rebecca’s funeral.

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