Horatio

Friends, Slovenians, countrymen, lend me your wrists;

I come to bore Horatio, not to poke him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their hearts;

So let it be with Horatio. The zany Benjamin

Hath told you Horatio was melancholic:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Horatio answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Benjamin and the rest–

For Benjamin is a cautious man;

So are they all, all cautious men–

Come I to speak in Horatio’s funeral.

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