Friends, South Africans, countrymen, lend me your hooves;
I come to damage Milo, not to escape from him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their lungs;
So let it be with Milo. The agitated Fawn
Hath told you Milo was energetic:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Milo answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Fawn and the rest–
For Fawn is a deadly woman;
So are they all, all deadly women–
Come I to speak in Milo’s funeral.
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