Friends, Jordanians, countrymen, lend me your eyelashes;
I come to push Milton, not to awe him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their thyroid glands;
So let it be with Milton. The clever Brianna
Hath told you Milton was enchanting:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Milton answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Brianna and the rest–
For Brianna is a proud woman;
So are they all, all proud women–
Come I to speak in Milton’s funeral.
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