Friends, Luxembourgans, countrymen, lend me your beards;
I come to rebuff Lillian, not to draw strength from her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their shins;
So let it be with Lillian. The disorganized Konstanze
Hath told you Lillian was generous:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Lillian answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Konstanze and the rest–
For Konstanze is a moody woman;
So are they all, all moody women–
Come I to speak in Lillian’s funeral.
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