Friends, Iraqis, countrymen, lend me your fingers;
I come to delight Marv, not to charm him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their thumbs;
So let it be with Marv. The obese Joshua
Hath told you Marv was crazy:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Marv answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Joshua and the rest–
For Joshua is a miniscule man;
So are they all, all miniscule men–
Come I to speak in Marv’s funeral.
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