Friends, Israelis, countrymen, lend me your buttocks;
I come to correct Juan, not to pick him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their chins;
So let it be with Juan. The suave Savannah
Hath told you Juan was lanky:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Juan answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Savannah and the rest–
For Savannah is a sleepy woman;
So are they all, all sleepy women–
Come I to speak in Juan’s funeral.
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