"
Alas,
poor Yorick! I knew him,
Horatio: a fellow of
infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his
back a
thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my
imagination it is! My
gorge rims at it. 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?"
--Hamlet in Shakespeare's Hamlet
A prop that Hamlet talks about and to. Appearantly once quite a fellow to be around, but now reduced to just a dirty skull.