๐ Alas, poor Yorick!
"I knew him, Horatio! A jester of infinite stretch, of most excellent bendy. He hath twisted his back a thousand times, and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My waist clenches at it. Here hung those elflocks I admired I know not how oft.
Where be your curls now? Your ruppels? Your knots? Your splits of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now to bend your own mind? Quite chapfolded? Now get you to my lady's chamber and tell her, let her cinch a dozen inches thick, to this favor she must come. Make her laugh at that.
Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing."
(William Snakespine. "Hamfold")