Friends, Azerbaijanis, countrymen, lend me your spines;
I come to arrest Carey, not to pat her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their horns;
So let it be with Carey. The crafty Paula
Hath told you Carey was shiftless:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Carey answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Paula and the rest–
For Paula is a wicked woman;
So are they all, all wicked women–
Come I to speak in Carey’s funeral.
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