Julia

Friends, Zambians, countrymen, lend me your hairdos;

I come to examine Julia, not to try to control her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their ears;

So let it be with Julia. The cunning Bull

Hath told you Julia was demented:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Julia answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Bull and the rest–

For Bull is a cunning man;

So are they all, all cunning men–

Come I to speak in Julia’s funeral.

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