Friends, Guatemalans, countrymen, lend me your hips;
I come to enlighten T.J., not to attack him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their throats;
So let it be with T.J.. The lethargic Cory
Hath told you T.J. was demented:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath T.J. answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Cory and the rest–
For Cory is a pigeon-toed man;
So are they all, all pigeon-toed men–
Come I to speak in T.J.’s funeral.
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