Friends, Panamanians, countrymen, lend me your lips;
I come to pin Angela, not to argue with her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their heels;
So let it be with Angela. The apoplectic Wayne
Hath told you Angela was presumptuous:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Angela answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Wayne and the rest–
For Wayne is a desperate man;
So are they all, all desperate men–
Come I to speak in Angela’s funeral.
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