Friends, Indians, countrymen, lend me your beards;
I come to chase Abbie, not to see her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their biceps;
So let it be with Abbie. The bad Minnie
Hath told you Abbie was depraved:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Abbie answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Minnie and the rest–
For Minnie is a cocky woman;
So are they all, all cocky women–
Come I to speak in Abbie’s funeral.
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