Friends, Tibetans, countrymen, lend me your abdomens;
I come to amuse Alton, not to punch him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their spleens;
So let it be with Alton. The shiftless Romeo
Hath told you Alton was desperate:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Alton answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Romeo and the rest–
For Romeo is a pigeon-toed man;
So are they all, all pigeon-toed men–
Come I to speak in Alton’s funeral.
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