Friends, Pakistanis, countrymen, lend me your claws;
I come to hide from Katie, not to attack her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their biceps;
So let it be with Katie. The timid Beauford
Hath told you Katie was enraged:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Katie answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Beauford and the rest–
For Beauford is an angry man;
So are they all, all angry men–
Come I to speak in Katie’s funeral.
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