Friends, Greeks, countrymen, lend me your toupees;
I come to bite Tex, not to wink at him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their arteries;
So let it be with Tex. The funny Clifton
Hath told you Tex was spunky:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Tex answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Clifton and the rest–
For Clifton is a frightened man;
So are they all, all frightened men–
Come I to speak in Tex’s funeral.
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