Ham. 'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the
daintier
sense.
Clown. (sings)
But age with his stealing steps
Hath clawed me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me intil the land,
As if I had never been such.
[Throws up a skull.]
Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How
the
knave jowls it to the ground,as if 'twere Cain's jawbone,
that
did the first murther! This might be the pate of a
Politician,
which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent
God,
might it not?
Hor. It might, my lord.
Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet
lord!
How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my Lord Such-a-one,
that
prais'd my Lord Such-a-one's horse when he meant to beg it-
might
it not?
Hor. Ay, my lord.
Ham. Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and
knock'd
about the mazzard with a sexton's spade. Here's fine
revolution,
and we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more
the
breeding but to play at loggets with 'em? Mine ache to think
on't.
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