by Tom Stoppard
GUIL: There -- -I Is that ways questions. To exchange one set for another is no great matter.
ROS: Answers, yes. There were answers to everything.
GUIL: You've forgotten.
ROS: ( flaring): I haven't forgotten---how I used to remember my own name---and yours, oh yes! There were answers everywhere you looked. There was no question about it ---
people knew who I was and if they didn't they asked and I told them.
GUIL: You did, the trouble is, each of them is... plausible, 38 without being instinctive. All your life you live so close to truth, it becomes a permanent blur in the comer of your eye, and when something nudges it into outline it is like. being ambushed by a grotesque. A man standing in his saddle in the half-lit half-alive dawn banged on the shutters and called two names. He was just a hat and a cloak levitating in the grey plume of his own breath, but when he called we came. That much is certain---we came.
ROS: Well I can tell you I'm sick to death of it. I don't cam one way or another, so why don't you make up your mind.
GUIL: We can't afford anything quite so arbitrary. Nor did we come all this way for a christening. All that---preceded us. But we are comparatively fortunate; we might have been left to sift the whole field of human nomenclature, like two blind men looting a bazaar for their own portraits... At least we are presented with alternatives.
ROS: Well as from now
GUIL: ---But not choice.
ROS: You made me look ridiculous in there.
GUIL: I looked just as ridiculous as you did.
ROS: ( an anguished cry): Consistency is all I ask!
GUIL: ( low, wry rhetoric): Give us this day our daily mask.
ROS: ( a dying fall): I want to go home. ( Moves. ) Which way did we come in? I've lost my sense of direction.
GUIL: The only beginning is birth and the only end is death---if you can't count on that, what can you count on? They connect again.
ROS: We don't owe anything to anyone.
GUIL: We've been caught up. Your smallest action sets off another somewhere else, and is set off by it. Keep an eye open, an ear cocked. Tread warily, follow instructions. We'll be all right.
ROS: For how long?
GUIL: Till events have played themselves out. There's a logic at work---it's all done for you, don't worry. Enjoy it. Relax. To be taken in hand and led, like being a child again, even without the innocence, a child---it's like being given a prize, an extra slice of childhood when you least expect it, as a prize for being good, or compensation for never having had one... Do I contradict myself?
ROS: I can't remember... What have we got to go on?
GUIL: We have been briefed. Hamlet's transformation. What do you recollect?
ROS: Well, he's changed, hasn't he? The exterior and inward man fails to resemble GUIL: Draw him on to pleasures---glean what afflicts him.
ROS: Something more than his father's death
GUIL: He's always talking about us---there aren't two people living whom he dotes on more than us.
ROS: We cheer him up---find out what's the matter
GUIL: Exactly, it's a matter of asking the right questions and giving away as little as we can.
It's a game.
ROS: And then we can go?
GUIL: And receive such thanks as fits a king's remembrance.
ROS: I like the sound of that. What do you think he means by remembrance?
GUIL: He doesn't forget his friends.
ROS: Would you care to estimate?
GUIL: Difficult to say, really---some kings tend to be amnesiac, others I suppose---the opposite, whatever that is...
ROS: Yes---but--- Elephantine... ?
ROS: Not how long---how much?
GUIL: Retentive---he's a very retentive king, a royal retainer. .
ROS: What are you playing at?
GUIL: Words, words. They're all we have to go on.
Pause.
ROS: Shouldn't we be doing something---constructive?
GUIL: What did you have in mind?... A short, blunt human pyramid... ?
ROS: We could go.
GUIL: Where?
ROS: After him.
GUIL: Why? They've got us placed now---if we start moving around, we'll all be chasing each other all night.
Hiatus.
ROS ( at footlights): How very intriguing! ( Turns. ) I feel like a spectator---an appalling business. The only thing that makes it bearable is the irrational belief that somebody interesting will come on in a minute...
GUIL: See anyone?
ROS: No. You?
GUIL: No. ( At footlights. ) What a fine persecution---to be kept intrigued without ever quite being enlightened... ( Pause. ) We've had no practice.
ROS: We could Play at questions.
GUIL: What good would that do?
ROS: Practice!
GUIL: Statement! one-love.
ROS: Cheating!
GUIL: How?
ROS: I hadn't started yet.
GUIL: Statement. Two-love
ROS: Are you counting that?
GUIL: What?
ROS: Are you counting that?
GUIL: Foul! No repetitions Three-love First game to...
ROS: I'm not going to play if you're going to be like that.
GUIL: Whose serve?
ROS: Hah?
GUIL: Foul! No grunts. Love-one.
ROS: Whose go?
GUIL: Why?
ROS: Why not?
GUIL: What for?
ROS. Foul! No synonyms! One-all.
GUIL: What in God's name is going on?
ROS: Foul! No rhetoric. Two-one.
GUIL: What does it all add up to?
ROS: Can't you guess?
GUIL: Were You addressing me?
ROS: Is there anyone else?
GUIL: Who?
ROS How Would I know?
GUIL: Why do you ask?
ROS: Are you serious?
GUIL: Was that rhetoric?
ROS: No.
GUIL: Statement! Two-all. Game point.
ROS: What's the matter with you today?
GUIL: When?
ROS: What?
GUIL: Are you deaf?
ROS: Am I dead?
GUIL: Yes or no
ROS: Is there a choice?
GUIL: Is there a God?
ROS: Foul! No non sequiturs,
GUIL: ( seriously): What's your name?
ROS: What's yours?
GUIL: I asked you first.
ROS: Statement. One-love.
GUIL: What's your name when you're at home?
ROS: What's yours?
GUIL: When I'm at home?
ROS: Is it different at home?
GUIL: What home?
ROS: Haven't you got one?
GUIL: Why do you ask?
ROS: What are you driving at?
GUIL ( with emphasis): What's your name?!
ROS: Repetition. Two-love. Match point to me.
GUIL ( seizing him violently): WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
ROS: Rhetoric! Game and match! ( Pause. ) Where's it going to end?
GUIL: That's the question.
ROS: It's all questions.
GUIL: Do you think it matters?
ROS: Doesn't it matter to you?
GUIL: Why should it matter?
ROS: What does it matter why?
GUIL ( teasing gently): Doesn't it matter why it matters?
ROS ( rounding on him): What's the matter with you?
Pause.
GUIL: It doesn't matter.
ROS ( voice in the wilderness):... What's the game?
GUIL: What are the rules?
Enter HAMLET behind, crossing the stage, reading a book---as he is about to disappear GUIL notices him.
GUIL ( sharply): Rosencrantz!
ROS ( jumps): What!
HAMLET goes. Triumph dawns on them, they smile.
GUIL: There! How was that?
ROS: Clever!
GUIL: Natural?
ROS: Instinctive.
GUIL: Got it in your head?
ROS: I take my hat off to you.
GUIL: Shake hands.
They do.
ROS: Now I'll try you---GUIL---!
GUIL: ---Not yet---catch me unawares.
ROS: Right.
They separate. Pause. Aside to GUIL .
Ready?
GUIL ( explodes): Don't be stupid.
ROS: Sorry.
Pause.
GUIL ( snaps): Guildenstern!
ROS ( jumps): What?
He is immediately crestfallen, GUIL is disgusted.
GUIL: Consistency is all I ask!
ROS ( quietly): Immortality is all I seek...
GUIL ( dying fall): Give us this day our daily week...
Beat.
ROS: Who was that?
GUIL: Didn't you know him?
ROS: He didn't know me.
GUIL: He didn't see you.
ROS: I didn't see him.
GUIL: We shall see. I hardly knew him, he's changed.
ROS: You could see that?
GUIL: Transformed.
ROS: How do you know?
GUIL: Inside and out.
ROS: I see.
GUIL: He's not himself.
ROS: He's changed.
GUIL: I could see that.
Beat.
Glean what afflicts him.
ROS: Me?
GUIL: Him.
ROS: How?
GUIL: Question and answer. Old ways are the best ways.
ROS: He's afflicted.
GUIL: You question, I'll answer.
ROS: He's not himself, you know.
GUIL: I'm him, you see.
Beat.
ROS: Who am I then?
GUIL: You're yourself.
ROS: And he's you?
GUIL: Not a bit of it.
ROS: Are you afflicted?
GUIL: That's the idea. Are you ready?
ROS: Let's go back a bit.
GUIL: I'm afflicted.
ROS: I see.
GUIL: Glean what afflicts me.
ROS: Right.
GUIL: Question and answer.
ROS: How should I begin?
GUIL: Address me.
ROS: My dear Guildenstern!
GUIL: ( quietly): You've forgotten---haven't you?
ROS: My dear Rosencrantz!
GUIL: ( great control): I don't think you quite understand. we are attempting is a hypothesis in which I answer him, while you ask me questions.
ROS: Ah! Ready?
GUIL: You know what to do?
ROS: What?
GUIL: Are you stupid?
ROS: Pardon?
GUIL: Are you deaf?
ROS: Did you speak?
GUIL ( admonishing): Not now---
ROS: Statement.
GUIL ( shouts): Not now! ( Pause. ) If I had any doubts, or rather hopes, they are dispelled.
What could we possibly have in common except our situation? ( They separate and sit. ) Perhaps he'll come back this way.
ROS: Should we go?
GUIL: Why?
Pause.
ROS ( starts up. Snaps fingers): Oh! You mean-you pretend to be him, and I ask you questions!
GUIL ( dry): Very good.
ROS: You had me confused.
GUIL: I could see I had.
ROS: How should I begin?
GUIL: Address me. They stand and face each other, posing.
ROS: My honoured Lord!
GUIL: My dear Rosencrantz!
Pause.
ROS: Am I pretending to be you, then?
GUIL: Certainly not. If you like. Shall we continue?
ROS: Question and answer.
GUIL: Right.
ROS: Right. My honoured lord!
GUIL: My dear fellow!
ROS: How are you?
GUIL: Afflicted!
ROS: Really? In what way?
GUIL: Transformed.
ROS: Inside or out?
GUIL: Both.
ROS: I see. ( Pause. ) Not much new there.
GUIL: Go into details. Delve. Probe the background, establish the situation.
ROS: So---so your uncle is the king of Denmark?!
GUIL: And my father before him.
ROS: His father before him?
GUIL: No, my father before him.
ROS: But surely---
GUIL: You might well ask.
ROS: Let me get it straight. Your father was king. You were his only son. Your father dies.
You are of age. Your uncle becomes king.
GUIL: Yes.
ROS: Unorthodox.
GUIL: Undid me.
ROS: Undeniable. Where were you?
GUIL: In Germany.
ROS: Usurpation, then.
GUIL: He slipped in.
ROS: Which reminds me.
GUIL: Well, it would.
ROS: I don't want to be personal.
GUIL: It's common knowledge.
ROS: Your mother's marriage.
GUIL: He slipped in.
Beat.
ROS ( lugubriously): His body was still warm.
GUIL: So was hers.
ROS: Extraordinary.
GUIL: Indecent.
ROS: Hasty.
GUIL: Suspicious.
ROS: It makes you think.
GUIL: Don't think I haven't thought of it.
ROS: And with her husband's brother.
GUIL: They were close.
ROS: She went to him
GUIL: Too close---
ROS: for comfort.
GUIL: It looks bad.
ROS: It adds up.
GUIL: Incest to adultery.
ROS: Would you go so far?
GUIL: Never.
ROS: To sum up: your father, whom you love, dies, you are his heir, you come back to find that hardly was the corpse cold before his young brother popped onto his throne and into his sheets, thereby offending both legal and natural practice. Now why exactly are you behaving in this extraordinary manner?
GUIL: I can't imagine! ( Pause. ) But all that is well known, common property. Yet he sent for us. And we did come.
ROS: ( alert, ear cocked): I say! I heard music
GUIL: We're here.
ROS: Like a band---I thought I heard a band.
GUIL: Rosencrantz...
ROS: ( absently, still listening): What? Pause, short.
GUIL: ( gently wry): Guildenstern.
ROS ( irritated by the repetition): What?
GUIL: Don't you discriminate at all?
ROS ( turning dumbly): Wha'?
Pause.
GUIL: Go and see if he's there.
ROS: Who?
GUIL: There.
ROS goes to an upstage wing, looks, returns, formally making his report.
ROS: Yes.
GUIL: What is he doing?
ROS repeats movement.
ROS: Talking.
GUIL: To himself? ROS Starts to move. GUIL Cuts in impatiently. Is he alone?
ROS: No.
GUIL: Then he's not talking to himself, is he?
ROS: Not by himself... Coming this way, I think. ( Shiftily. ) Should we go?
GUIL: Why? We're marked now.
HAMLET enters, backwards, talking, followed by POLONIUS , upstage. ROS and GUIL occupy the two corners do looking upstage.
HAMLET: for you yourself, sir, should be as old as I am if like a crab you could go backward.
POLONIUS ( aside): Though this be madness, yet there is method in it. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
HAMLET: Into my grave.
POLONIUS: Indeed, that's out of the air. HAMLET Crosses to upstage exit, POLONIUS
asiding unintelligibly until my lord, I will take my leave of you.
HAMLET: You cannot take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal---except my life, except my life, except my life...
POLONIUS ( cr
ossing downstage): Fare you well, my lord. ( To ROS : ) You go to seek Lord Hamlet? There he is.
ROS ( to POLONIUS): God save you sir.
POLONIUS goes.
GUIL ( Calls upstage to HAMLET): My honoured lord!
ROS: My most dear lord!
HAMLET centred upstage, turns to them.
HAMLET: My excellent good friends! How dost thou Guildenstern? ( Coming downstage with an arm raised to ROS , GUIL meanwhile bowing to no greeting. HAMLET
corrects himself. Still to ROS :) Ah Rosencrantz!
They laugh good-naturedly at the mistake. They all meet misstate, turn upstage to walk, HAMLET in the middle, arm over each shoulder.
HAMLET: Good lads how do you both?
BLACKOUT
ACT TWO
HAMLET , ROS and GUIL talking, the continuation of the previous scene.
Their conversation, on the move, is indecipherable at first.
The first intelligible line is HAMLET 'S, coming at the end of a short speech---see Shakespeare Act 11, scene ii.
HAMLET: S'blood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.
A flourish from the TRAGEDIANS ' band.
GUIL: There are the players.
HAMLET: Gentlemen, you am welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come then. ( He takes their hands. ) The appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players ( which I tell you must show fairly outwards) should more appear like entertainment than yours. You am welcome. ( About to leave. ) But my uncle---father and aunt-mother am deceived.
GUIL: In what, my dear lord?
HAMLET: I am but mad north north-west; when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
POLONIUS enters as GUIL turns away.
POLONIUS: Well be with you gentlemen.
HAMLET ( to ROS): Mark you, Guildenstern. ( uncertainly to GUIL) and you too; at each ear a hearer. That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling clouts... ( He takes ROS upstage with him, talking together. )
POLONIUS: My Lord! I have news to tell you.
HAMLET ( releasing ROS and mimicking): My lord, I have news to tell you... When Roscius was an actor in Rome...
ROS comes downstage to rejoin GUIL .
POLONIUS ( as he follows HAMLET out): The actors are come hither my lord.
HAMLET: Buzz, buzz.
Exeunt HAMLET and POLONIUS . ROS and GUIL ponder. Each reluctant to speak first.
GUIL: Hm?
ROS: Yes?
GUIL: What?
ROS: I thought you . .
GUIL: No.
ROS: Ah.
Pause.
GUIL: I think we can say we made some headway.
ROS: You think so?
GUIL: I think we can say that.