Friends, Greeks, countrymen, lend me your calves;
I come to quiet Ryan, not to stalk him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their pinkies;
So let it be with Ryan. The obese Nate
Hath told you Ryan was vacuous:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Ryan answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Nate and the rest–
For Nate is a spunky man;
So are they all, all spunky men–
Come I to speak in Ryan’s funeral.
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