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The instant burst of clamour that she made—
Unless things mortal move them not at all—
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven, 548
And passion in the gods."

Pol. Look! wh'er he has not turned his colour
and has tears in 's eyes. Prithee, no more. 551

Ham. 'Tis well; I'll have thee speak out the
rest 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 chroni-
cles of the time: after your death you were bet-
ter have a bad epitaph than their ill report while
you live.

Pol. My lord, I will use them according to
their desert. 560

Ham. God's bodikins, man, much 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. 565

Pol. Come, sirs.

Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play
to-morrow. Exit Polonius, [with all the Players
but the First.] Dost thou hear me, old friend;
can you play the Murder of Gonzago? 570

First Play. Ay, my lord.

Ham. We'll ha 't to-morrow night. You could,
for a need, study a speech of some dozen or six-
teen lines, which I would set down and insert
in 't, could you not?