Christian

Friends, Dutch, countrymen, lend me your cheeks;

I come to kill Christian, not to tantalize him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their tails;

So let it be with Christian. The fuzzy Eldon

Hath told you Christian was gallant:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Christian answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Eldon and the rest–

For Eldon is an awkward man;

So are they all, all awkward men–

Come I to speak in Christian’s funeral.

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