Friends, Spaniards, countrymen, lend me your tummies;
I come to stump Heather, not to appease her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their knuckles;
So let it be with Heather. The relaxed Quinn
Hath told you Heather was nonchalant:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Heather answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Quinn and the rest–
For Quinn is a frightened man;
So are they all, all frightened men–
Come I to speak in Heather’s funeral.
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