Friends, Vietnamese, countrymen, lend me your Adam's apples;
I come to arrest Nellie, not to pick her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their carotid arteries;
So let it be with Nellie. The humble Herbert
Hath told you Nellie was tired:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Nellie answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Herbert and the rest–
For Herbert is a sweet man;
So are they all, all sweet men–
Come I to speak in Nellie’s funeral.
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