Indeed, this counsellor Is now most still, most secret and most grave, Who was in life a foolish prating knave.

Nice epitaph.
Not sure it’s one I’d want on my tombstone but…
It does have a nice rhyme.
I wouldn’t mind “foolish” somehow
Probably because of my clowning.
“Prating” though, is tough. Wouldn’t want that epithet.
“Knave” I could live with –due to the fun one can get out of making mischief.

But while I appreciate the word play, I’m not sure Polonius deserves such an ignominious eulogy from Hamlet.
He talked a lot, sure, and some of it was ridiculous but he’s not without sense and he was the father to the woman Hamlet (theoretically) loved. Why does he feel so little remorse at his murder? It’s almost like he has to convince himself Polonius was worse than he was so as not to feel horrible at his death.

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