Friends, Russians, countrymen, lend me your throats;
I come to subdue Belle, not to block her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their hands;
So let it be with Belle. The lazy Malcolm
Hath told you Belle was ignoble:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Belle answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Malcolm and the rest–
For Malcolm is a dumb man;
So are they all, all dumb men–
Come I to speak in Belle’s funeral.
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