And a little further on,—
“Here’s a fine revolution, an we had the trick to see’t. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with ’em? mine ache to think on’t.”[[150]]
And when Yorick’s skull is placed in his hand, how the Prince moralizes! (l. 177),—
“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? 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.”
And again (lines 191 and 200),—
“To what base uses we may return. Horatio!
. . . . . . .
Imperial Cæsar, dead, and turn’d to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.”
Of the skull Anulus says, “Here reason held her citadel;” and the expression has its parallel in Edward’s lament (3 Henry VI., act ii. sc. 1, l. 68, vol. v. p. 252),—