Friends, New Guineans, countrymen, lend me your thumbs;
I come to listen to Tyler, not to compliment him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their wigs;
So let it be with Tyler. The boring Baldwin
Hath told you Tyler was excitable:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Tyler answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Baldwin and the rest–
For Baldwin is a cruel man;
So are they all, all cruel men–
Come I to speak in Tyler’s funeral.
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