Friends, Chileans, countrymen, lend me your shoulders;
I come to sting Morton, not to split up with him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their beards;
So let it be with Morton. The confident Savannah
Hath told you Morton was obedient:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Morton answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Savannah and the rest–
For Savannah is an attractive woman;
So are they all, all attractive women–
Come I to speak in Morton’s funeral.
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