Friends, Laotians, countrymen, lend me your thighs;
I come to enlighten Russ, not to study him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their pituitary glands;
So let it be with Russ. The peculiar Cliff
Hath told you Russ was distressed:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Russ answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Cliff and the rest–
For Cliff is a considerate man;
So are they all, all considerate men–
Come I to speak in Russ’s funeral.
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