Friends, Salvadorans, countrymen, lend me your feet;
I come to hypnotize Desmond, not to investigate him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their scalps;
So let it be with Desmond. The cantankerous Anna
Hath told you Desmond was dismal:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Desmond answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Anna and the rest–
For Anna is a bad woman;
So are they all, all bad women–
Come I to speak in Desmond’s funeral.
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