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Populuxe

Enjoy me. Won’t you?
Alas, poor Yorick.
 
Correct. This is the grave-diggers scene, Act V, Scene 1:
 
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 rises 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.  
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.