Friends, Vietnamese, countrymen, lend me your abdomens;
I come to write Kelly, not to quiet her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their pieholes;
So let it be with Kelly. The hungry Larry
Hath told you Kelly was hungry:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Kelly answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Larry and the rest–
For Larry is a gallant man;
So are they all, all gallant men–
Come I to speak in Kelly’s funeral.
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