Yorick, alas! how soon thou art forgotten and unknown!

First Clown. Here's a skull now; this skull hath lain you i' the earth three-and-twenty years.        
Ham. Whose was it?        
First Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?        
Ham. Nay, I know not.         76
First Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.        
Ham. This!        
First Clo. 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 kissed 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?