Friends, Moroccans, countrymen, lend me your skulls;
I come to dump Zachary, not to grab him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their Achilles tendons;
So let it be with Zachary. The dependable Lex
Hath told you Zachary was happy:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Zachary answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Lex and the rest–
For Lex is a cuddly man;
So are they all, all cuddly men–
Come I to speak in Zachary’s funeral.
Next Chapter