William Shakespeare: Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

ACT V. 1. Scene I. A churchyard. (continued)

Ham.
Nay, I know not.

1 Clown.
A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 'a pour'd a flagon of
Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's
skull, the king's jester.

Ham.
This?

1 Clown.
E'en that.

Ham.
Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick!--I knew him,
Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he
hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred
in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those
lips that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes
now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that
were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your
own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now, get you to my lady's
chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this
favour she must come; make her laugh at that.--Pr'ythee, Horatio,
tell me one thing.

Hor.
What's that, my lord?

Ham.
Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth?

Hor.
E'en so.

Ham.
And smelt so? Pah!

[Throws down the skull.]

Hor.
E'en so, my lord.

Ham.
To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not
imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it
stopping a bung-hole?

Hor.
'Twere to consider too curiously to consider so.