Hamlet Act V, Scene I; Hamlet

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- fall'n?

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.