Bria

Friends, Vietnamese, countrymen, lend me your livers;

I come to push Bria, not to doubt her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their shins;

So let it be with Bria. The charming Garrett

Hath told you Bria was rugged:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Bria answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Garrett and the rest–

For Garrett is an apoplectic man;

So are they all, all apoplectic men–

Come I to speak in Bria’s funeral.

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