Friends, Zambians, countrymen, lend me your hairdos;
I come to examine Julia, not to try to control her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their ears;
So let it be with Julia. The cunning Bull
Hath told you Julia was demented:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Julia answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Bull and the rest–
For Bull is a cunning man;
So are they all, all cunning men–
Come I to speak in Julia’s funeral.
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