Friends, Peruvians, countrymen, lend me your larynxes;
I come to correct Ling, not to outwit her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their faces;
So let it be with Ling. The miniscule Ray
Hath told you Ling was unselfish:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Ling answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Ray and the rest–
For Ray is a cautious man;
So are they all, all cautious men–
Come I to speak in Ling’s funeral.
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