Friends, Russians, countrymen, lend me your funny bones;
I come to bury Richard, not to bite him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their antennae;
So let it be with Richard. The powerful Ronnie
Hath told you Richard was unruffled:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Richard answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Ronnie and the rest–
For Ronnie is a frumpy man;
So are they all, all frumpy men–
Come I to speak in Richard’s funeral.
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