Friends, Easter Islanders, countrymen, lend me your hairdos;
I come to mesmerize Wallace, not to kill him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their funny bones;
So let it be with Wallace. The sociable Alison
Hath told you Wallace was creepy:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Wallace answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Alison and the rest–
For Alison is a vile woman;
So are they all, all vile women–
Come I to speak in Wallace’s funeral.
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