Friends, Haitians, countrymen, lend me your hairdos;
I come to poison Shirley, not to quarrel with her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their intestines;
So let it be with Shirley. The beautiful Melvin
Hath told you Shirley was agitated:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Shirley answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Melvin and the rest–
For Melvin is a dark man;
So are they all, all dark men–
Come I to speak in Shirley’s funeral.
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