Friends, Canadians, countrymen, lend me your brains;
I come to appease Conrad, not to consider him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their beards;
So let it be with Conrad. The colorless Iggy
Hath told you Conrad was pensive:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Conrad answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Iggy and the rest–
For Iggy is a crafty woman;
So are they all, all crafty women–
Come I to speak in Conrad’s funeral.
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