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60
HORATIO
Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
HORATIO
He’s gotten so used to graves that they don’t bother him anymore.

HAMLET
'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
HAMLET
Yes, exactly. Only people who don’t have to work can afford to be sensitive.






GRAVEDIGGER
(sings)
But age with his stealing steps
  Hath clawed me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me into the land
  As if I had never been such.
(throws up a skull)
GRAVEDIGGER
(sings)
But old age has sneaked up on me
  And grabbed me in his claws,
And has shipped me into the ground
  As if I’d never been like that.
(he throws up a skull)

HAMLET
That skull had a tongue in it and could sing once. How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain’s jawbone, that did the first murder! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'erreaches, one that would circumvent God, might it not?
HAMLET
That skull had a tongue in it once and could sing. That jackass is throwing it around as if it belonged to Cain, who did the first murder! It might be the skull of a politician once capable of talking his way around God, right? And now this idiot is pulling rank on him.

70
HORATIO
It might, my lord.
HORATIO
Indeed, my lord.

HAMLET
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 praised my Lord Such-a-one’s horse when he meant to beg it, might it not?
HAMLET
Or a courtier, who could say things like, “Good night, my sweet lord! How are you doing, good lord?” This might be the skull of Lord So-and-So, who praised Lord Such-and-Such’s horse when he wanted to borrow it, right?

75
HORATIO
Ay, my lord.
HORATIO
Yes, my lord.

HAMLET
Why, e'en so. And now my Lady Worm’s, chapless and knocked about the mazard with a sexton’s spade. Here’s fine revolution, an we had the trick to see ’t. Did these bones cost no more the breeding but to play at loggets with them? Mine ache to think on ’t.
HAMLET
Exactly. And now it’s the property of Lady Worm, its lower jaw knocked off and thwacked on the noggin with a shovel. That’s quite a reversal of fortune, isn’t it, if we could only see it? Are these bones worth nothing more than bowling pins now? It makes my bones ache to think about it.

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