Borat

Friends, Mexicans, countrymen, lend me your eyelids;

I come to quiet Borat, not to recoil from him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their eyeballs;

So let it be with Borat. The brazen Fuzz

Hath told you Borat was comely:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Borat answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Fuzz and the rest–

For Fuzz is a relaxed man;

So are they all, all relaxed men–

Come I to speak in Borat’s funeral.

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