Friends, Congolese, countrymen, lend me your knees;
I come to train Tamara, not to compliment her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their fingernails;
So let it be with Tamara. The insane Jacques
Hath told you Tamara was pigeon-toed:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Tamara answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Jacques and the rest–
For Jacques is a difficult man;
So are they all, all difficult men–
Come I to speak in Tamara’s funeral.
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