Friends, Bolivians, countrymen, lend me your skins;
I come to isolate Preston, not to bore him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their Adam's apples;
So let it be with Preston. The coy Geraldo
Hath told you Preston was pensive:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Preston answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Geraldo and the rest–
For Geraldo is a sincere man;
So are they all, all sincere men–
Come I to speak in Preston’s funeral.
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