Friends, Jalops, countrymen, lend me your gears; I come to praise the Volvo, not to bury it. The evil that voters do lives after it; The good is oft interred with their valves; Let it not be with Volvo! The noble Voters Hath told you Volvos were ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Volvo answer'd it. Here, under leave of Voters and the rest — For Voters are an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men — Come I to speak in Volvo's funeral. It was my rid
A strolling player
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Stories By A strolling player
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