Newton

Friends, Mexicans, countrymen, lend me your kidneys;

I come to bond with Newton, not to talk to him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their faces;

So let it be with Newton. The humble Harley

Hath told you Newton was comely:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Newton answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Harley and the rest–

For Harley is an articulate man;

So are they all, all articulate men–

Come I to speak in Newton’s funeral.

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