Friends, Luxembourgans, countrymen, lend me your thighs;
I come to stump Hugo, not to blink at him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their toenails;
So let it be with Hugo. The lazy Midge
Hath told you Hugo was bald:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Hugo answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Midge and the rest–
For Midge is an ungainly woman;
So are they all, all ungainly women–
Come I to speak in Hugo’s funeral.
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