_Cor._ My lord, I will vse them according to their deserts.
_Ham._ O farre better man, vse euery man after his deserts,
Then who should scape whipping?
Vse them after your owne honor and dignitie,
The lesse they deserue, the greater credit's yours.
_Cor._ Welcome my good fellowes. _exit._
_Ham._ Come hither maisters, can you not play the mur-
der of _Gonsago_?
_players_ Yes my Lord.
_Ham._ And could'st not thou for a neede study me
Some dozen or sixteene lines,
Which I would set downe and insert?
_players_ Yes very easily my good Lord.
_Ham._ T'is well, I thanke you: follow that lord:
And doe you heare sirs? take heede you mocke him not.
Gentlemen, for your kindnes I thanke you,
And for a time I would desire you leaue me.
_Gil._ Our loue and duetie is at your commaund.
_Exeunt all but Hamlet._
_Ham._ Why what a dunghill idiote slaue am I?
Why these Players here draw water from eyes:
For Hecuba, why what is Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba? [F1]
What would he do and if he had my losse?
His father murdred, and a Crowne bereft him,
He would turne all his teares to droppes of blood,
Amaze the standers by with his laments,
Strike more then wonder in the iudiciall eares,
Confound the ignorant, and make mute the wise,
Indeede his passion would be generall.
Yet I like to an asse and Iohn a Dreames,