Quincy

Friends, Estonians, countrymen, lend me your calves;

I come to believe in Quincy, not to doubt him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their veins;

So let it be with Quincy. The urbane Dirk

Hath told you Quincy was yappy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Quincy answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Dirk and the rest–

For Dirk is a stern man;

So are they all, all stern men–

Come I to speak in Quincy’s funeral.

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