Isaac

Friends, Nicaraguans, countrymen, lend me your tails;

I come to slap Isaac, not to whisper to him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their eyelashes;

So let it be with Isaac. The passionate Clifton

Hath told you Isaac was poised:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Isaac answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Clifton and the rest–

For Clifton is an insane man;

So are they all, all insane men–

Come I to speak in Isaac’s funeral.

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