Friends, Moroccans, countrymen, lend me your lungs;
I come to dumbfound Dorian, not to have a talk with him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their fingers;
So let it be with Dorian. The obese Pamela
Hath told you Dorian was absent-minded:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Dorian answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Pamela and the rest–
For Pamela is a decent woman;
So are they all, all decent women–
Come I to speak in Dorian’s funeral.
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