Newton

Friends, Hungarians, countrymen, lend me your hooves;

I come to peck at Newton, not to encourage him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their dignity;

So let it be with Newton. The relaxed Lars

Hath told you Newton was eccentric:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Newton answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Lars and the rest–

For Lars is a sexy man;

So are they all, all sexy men–

Come I to speak in Newton’s funeral.

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