Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead (5 page)

GUIL
: Heaven make our presence and our practices Pleasant and helpful to him.

GERTRUDE
: Ay, amen!

ROS
and
GUIL
move towards a downstage wing. Before they get there
,
POLONIUS
enters. They stop and bow to him. He nods and hurries upstage to
CLAUDIUS.
They turn to look at him
.

POLONIUS
: The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, are joyfully returned.

CLAUDIUS
: Thou still hast been the father of good news.

POLONIUS
: Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,

I hold my duty as I hold my soul,
Both to my God and to my gracious King;
And I do think, or else this brain of mine
Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
As it hath used to do, that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. . . .

Exeunt—leaving
ROS
and
GUIL.

ROS
: I want to go home.

GUIL
: Don't let them confuse you.

ROS
: I'm out of my step here——

GUIL
: We'll soon be home and high—dry and home—I'll——

ROS
: It's all over my
depth
——

GUIL
: —I'll hie you home and——

ROS
: —out of my head——

GUIL
: —dry you high and——

ROS
(cracking, high):
—over my step over my head body!—I tell you it's all stopping to a death, it's boding to a depth, stepping to a head, it's all heading to a dead stop——

GUIL
(the nursemaid)
: There!. . . . and we'll soon be home and dry. . . and
high
and dry
(Rapidly.)
Has it ever happened to you that all of a sudden and for no reason at all you haven't the faintest idea how to spell the word— “wife”—or “house”—because when you write it down you just can't remember ever having seen those letters in that order before . . . ?

ROS
: I remember——

GUIL
: Yes?

ROS
: I remember when there were no questions.

GUIL
: There were always 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,
without being instinctive. All your life you live so close to truth, it becomes a permanent blur in the corner 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 care 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——

GUIL
: 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
, three—two, one game all.

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. . . .