Friends, Chileans, countrymen, lend me your noses;
I come to date Michaelangelo, not to appease him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their biceps;
So let it be with Michaelangelo. The wicked Warren
Hath told you Michaelangelo was hairy:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Michaelangelo answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Warren and the rest–
For Warren is a mournful man;
So are they all, all mournful men–
Come I to speak in Michaelangelo’s funeral.
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