Friends, Greeks, countrymen, lend me your guts;
I come to shave Studs, not to stalk him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their spleens;
So let it be with Studs. The megalomaniacal Kirby
Hath told you Studs was brazen:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Studs answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Kirby and the rest–
For Kirby is a paranoid man;
So are they all, all paranoid men–
Come I to speak in Studs’s funeral.
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