Alexander

Friends, Lithuanians, countrymen, lend me your thoraxes;

I come to dance with Alexander, not to look at him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their hairdos;

So let it be with Alexander. The crazy Clifford

Hath told you Alexander was serious:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Alexander answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Clifford and the rest–

For Clifford is a melancholic man;

So are they all, all melancholic men–

Come I to speak in Alexander’s funeral.

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