I will say so.

And he does say so.
And more.
We can count these last sentences he will utter on our hands. Perhaps even one hand, depending on the editor. If we collected them in a basket, would these be the words he’d want to be his last?

He spends his last moments on earth going between a mother and son. His last speech is to offer instructive advice to said mother.

Is this how he’d want to go out?

I’m not sure, if I knew my minutes on this planet were numbered, that I’d spend them trying to fix anyone else’s mess. I’d hope to finish off with something pithy or meaningful or true.

I wouldn’t care if it were clichéd; I’d be up for telling every last person and thing that I loved them. Polonius has some rhetorical arts. I’m sure he’d have preferred to go out on a philosophical speech.

But, I suppose, we never do get what we want.

He gets, at least, a nice dramatic death – a sword through the guts is so much better than a wasting away.

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