Friends, Botswanans, countrymen, lend me your carotid arteries;
I come to damage Angie, not to disinfect her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their femurs;
So let it be with Angie. The haughty Douglas
Hath told you Angie was solitary:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Angie answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Douglas and the rest–
For Douglas is a hungry man;
So are they all, all hungry men–
Come I to speak in Angie’s funeral.
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