POLONIUS.
Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's
eyes. — Pray you, no more!
HAMLET.
'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon. —
Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you
hear? Let them be well used; for they are the abstracts and brief
chronicles of the time; after your death you were better have a
bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
POLONIUS.
My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
HAMLET.
Odd's bodikin, man, better: use every man after his
desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your own
honour and dignity: the less they deserve, the more merit is in
your bounty. Take them in.
POLONIUS.
Come, sirs.
HAMLET.
Follow him, friends. we'll hear a play to-morrow.
[Exeunt Polonius with all the Players but the First.]
Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play 'The Murder of
Gonzago'?
