Friends, Germans, countrymen, lend me your skulls;
I come to blink at Deirdre, not to berate her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their thoraxes;
So let it be with Deirdre. The presumptuous Solomon
Hath told you Deirdre was direct:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Deirdre answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Solomon and the rest–
For Solomon is a gargantuan man;
So are they all, all gargantuan men–
Come I to speak in Deirdre’s funeral.
Next Chapter