Marcus

Friends, Albanians, countrymen, lend me your appendixes;

I come to kick Marcus, not to compliment him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their heels;

So let it be with Marcus. The arrogant Bones

Hath told you Marcus was intrepid:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Marcus answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bones and the rest–

For Bones is a masculine man;

So are they all, all masculine men–

Come I to speak in Marcus’s funeral.

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