Hamlet
And smelt so? pah!
Puts down the skull.
Horatio
E’en so, my lord.
Hamlet
To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole?
Horatio
’Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
Hamlet
Imperious Caesar, dead and turn’d to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!
But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king,
Laertes
What ceremony else?