Friends, Azerbaijanis, countrymen, lend me your tongues;
I come to dismay Kirsten, not to correct her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their hands;
So let it be with Kirsten. The grizzled Clifford
Hath told you Kirsten was fiendish:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Kirsten answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Clifford and the rest–
For Clifford is a noxious man;
So are they all, all noxious men–
Come I to speak in Kirsten’s funeral.
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