Friends, Belgians, countrymen, lend me your shoulders;
I come to please José, not to overlook him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their Adam's apples;
So let it be with José. The sophisticated Matilda
Hath told you José was shiftless:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath José answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Matilda and the rest–
For Matilda is a statuesque woman;
So are they all, all statuesque women–
Come I to speak in José’s funeral.
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