Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Sourav, 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 Sourav. The noble Dungarpur
Hath told you Sourav was lazy:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Sourav answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Dungarpur and the rest,--
For Dugarpur is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honorable men,--
Come I to speak in Souravs's dismissal.
He was out captain, faithful and just to us:
But Dungarpur says he was lazy;
And Dungarpur is an honourable man.
He hath brought many trophis home to India,
Did this in Sourav seem lazy?
When that the fans have cried, Sourav hath played:
Laziness should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Dungarpur says he was lazy;
And Dungarpur is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lords
They many times presented him a short ball.
Which he did many times hooked: was this lazy?
Yet Dungarpur says he was lazy;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Dungarpur 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 pavelion there with Sourav,
And I must pause till it come back to me.
Yours Sincerely,
