Friends, Puerto Ricans, countrymen, lend me your hangnails;
I come to poke Nathan, not to stalk him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their spines;
So let it be with Nathan. The gallant Morgan
Hath told you Nathan was evil:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Nathan answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Morgan and the rest–
For Morgan is a taciturn man;
So are they all, all taciturn men–
Come I to speak in Nathan’s funeral.
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