Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Trump, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Trump. The noble Graham
Hath told you Trump was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Trump answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Graham and the rest–
For Graham is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men–
Come I to speak in Trump’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Graham says he was ambitious;
And Graham is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to DC
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Trump seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Trump hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Graham says he was ambitious;
And Graham is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Graham says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Graham spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Trump,
And I must pause till it come back to me.