Friends, Zambians, countrymen, lend me your wigs;
I come to try to control Georgina, not to text her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their eyelashes;
So let it be with Georgina. The stubby Helmut
Hath told you Georgina was comely:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Georgina answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Helmut and the rest–
For Helmut is a rude man;
So are they all, all rude men–
Come I to speak in Georgina’s funeral.
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