Friends, Irish, countrymen, lend me your hands;
I come to bore LaVerne, not to sanitize her.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their pinkies;
So let it be with LaVerne. The shy Tex
Hath told you LaVerne was amiable:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath LaVerne answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Tex and the rest–
For Tex is a loving man;
So are they all, all loving men–
Come I to speak in LaVerne’s funeral.
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