Friends, Austrians, countrymen, lend me your backs;
I come to question Nicki, not to stump her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their thighs;
So let it be with Nicki. The prickly Pedro
Hath told you Nicki was sober:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Nicki answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Pedro and the rest–
For Pedro is a freakish man;
So are they all, all freakish men–
Come I to speak in Nicki’s funeral.
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