Friends, Mongolians, countrymen, lend me your arms;
I come to exclude Hoss, not to soothe him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their nostrils;
So let it be with Hoss. The athletic Arthur
Hath told you Hoss was dependable:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Hoss answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Arthur and the rest–
For Arthur is an enchanting man;
So are they all, all enchanting men–
Come I to speak in Hoss’s funeral.
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