Friends, Saudis, countrymen, lend me your femurs;
I come to betray Vilmer, not to damage him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their pieholes;
So let it be with Vilmer. The talkative Mark
Hath told you Vilmer was powerful:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Vilmer answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Mark and the rest–
For Mark is a jaunty man;
So are they all, all jaunty men–
Come I to speak in Vilmer’s funeral.
Next Chapter