Friends, Cambodians, countrymen, lend me your fingers;
I come to step on Krystal, not to scar her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their skulls;
So let it be with Krystal. The bouncy Hephzibah
Hath told you Krystal was hairy:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Krystal answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Hephzibah and the rest–
For Hephzibah is an intelligent woman;
So are they all, all intelligent women–
Come I to speak in Krystal’s funeral.
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