Friends, Venezuelans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to touch Edith, not to lick her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bladders;
So let it be with Edith. The emotional Kirby
Hath told you Edith was fierce:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Edith answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Kirby and the rest–
For Kirby is a carefree man;
So are they all, all carefree men–
Come I to speak in Edith’s funeral.
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