OpEdNews - Page 6 of Article: Hamlet 5:1

                                   GRAVEDIGGER
            What a mad rogue he was! He poured a pitcher of Rhenish wine
            over my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull-
            the king's jester.

                                   HAMLET
                          (taking skull)
            This?

                                   GRAVEDIGGER
            That very one.

                                   HAMLET
            Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him Horatio: a fellow of infinite
            jest, of most excellent artfulness. He carried me on his
            back a thousand times, and now, how detestable to think of
            it. I could almost heave up my stomach. Here hung those
            lips I kissed I don't know how many times. Where are your
            gibes now? Your gambols, your songs, your flashes of
            merriment that set the tables aroaring with laughter? Not
            one left to mock your own grinning? Quite chop-fallen? Go
            to my lady's room right now and tell her whatever make-up she
            applies she'll look like this in the end. Make her laugh at
            that.

                                   (Beat.)

                                   HAMLET (CONT'D)
            Tell me something Horatio.

                                   HORATIO
            What's that my lord?

                                   HAMLET
            Do you think Alexander the Great looked like this in the
            earth?

                                   HORATIO
            Probably so.

                                   HAMLET
            And smelled the same?

                                   HORATIO
            Ay, my lord.

                                   HAMLET
            To what base use we return to Horatio! That the noble dust
            of Alexander would end up a stopper to a barrel of beer?

                                   HORATIO
            Perhaps that's carrying things too far, my lord.

                                   HAMLET
            Not one bit: he died, was buried, returned to dust, and from
            dust to earth. Out of earth we make loam, and out of that we
            make plugs. "Imperial Caesar, dead and turned to clay, might
            stop a hole to keep the wind away. Oh that earth which kept
            the world in awe, should patch a wall to expel a winter's
            flaw." (Noticing the funeral procession.) But soft, here
            comes the king, queen, and court.

                                   (Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Priest and
                                   Attendants.)

                                   (Hamlet and Horatio kneel out of
                                   sight.)

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