Friends, Samoans, countrymen, lend me your toenails;
I come to replace Britt, not to sneer at him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bladders;
So let it be with Britt. The frumpy Anton
Hath told you Britt was daring:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Britt answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Anton and the rest–
For Anton is a stinky man;
So are they all, all stinky men–
Come I to speak in Britt’s funeral.
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