Friends, Mozambiquans, countrymen, lend me your legs;
I come to touch Jamie, not to split up with him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their shins;
So let it be with Jamie. The furious Jay
Hath told you Jamie was difficult:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Jamie answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Jay and the rest–
For Jay is a beautiful man;
So are they all, all beautiful men–
Come I to speak in Jamie’s funeral.
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