Friends, Bermudans, countrymen, lend me your fingernails;
I come to avoid Patrick, not to cover him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their horns;
So let it be with Patrick. The stubby Darryl
Hath told you Patrick was vacuous:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Patrick answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Darryl and the rest–
For Darryl is a naïve man;
So are they all, all naïve men–
Come I to speak in Patrick’s funeral.
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