ROSENCRANTZ & GUILDENSTERN

TABLOIDS BASED ON W. S. GILBERT AND T. STOPPARD

QUEEN: Oh, my dear lord!

CLAUDIUS: Well loved and faithful wife/Tender companion of
my faltering life,/Yes, I can trust thee! Listen, then, to me
:/Many years since - when but a headstrong lad-/I wrote a
five-act tragedy.
QU: Indeed? And did the play succeed?
CL.: In one sense, yes.
QU: And how long did it run?
CL: About ten minutes. Ere the first act had traced one-half
its course/The curtain fell, never to rise again!
QU: And did the people hiss?
CL: No, worse than that./They laughed. Sick with the shame
that covered me,/I knelt down…and prayed.
QU: Was it, my lord, so very, very bad?
CL: Not to deceive my trusting Queen, it was./The play was
not good – but the punishment/Of those that laughed at it
was capital.
QU: Think no more, my lord. Now mark me well:/To cheer our
son, whose solitary tastes and tendency to long
soliloquy/Have much alarmed us,I, unknown to thee,/have
sent for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern – two merry knaves,
kin to Polonius,/Who will devise such revels in our Court/Such
harmless merriment/As shall abstract his meditative
mind/From sad employment…/But they may divert my lord
as well. Ah, here they are.
(Enter R&G, masked, riding horses,)
Rosencrantz:(to Guild.)Ummm, uh… spots a coin; to horse)
Whoa-whoa.(takes coin, starts flipping it)Hmmm…Heads…
heads…heads…Bet? Heads I win? Again? Heads…78 in a
row. A new record, I imagine.
Guildenstern: Is that what you imagine? A new record”
R: Well…
G: Why can’t you think of anything original? Why do you
always just repeat everything? (notices the QU and CL) My
homage to the Queen.
R: In hot obedience to the Royal ‘hest/We have arrived,
prepared to do our best.
QU: We welcome you to Court. Our Chamberlain/ Shall see
that you are suitably deposed. And her is his daughter…
(Exeunt QU/CL, lovingly, enter Ophelia)
R: Ophelia! (both embrace her)
Oph: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern! This meeting likes me
much.
R: The Queen has summoned us,/And I have come in half-
hearted hope/That I may claim once more my baby-love!
OPH: Alas, I am betrothed!
R: betrothed? To whom?
OPH: To Hamlet.
G: And what’s he like?
OPH: Sometimes he’s tall – sometimes he’s very short/ Now
with black hair – now with a flaxen wig;/Sometimes with an
English accent – then a French./Once an American, once a
Jew…/But Danish never, take him how you will!
G: Oh, he is surely mad!
OPH: Well, there again /Opinion is divided. Some men hold/
That he’s the sanest, far, of all sane men - /Some that he’s
really sane, but shamming mad/Some that he’s really mad
but shamming sane /Some that he will be mad, some that he
was/ Some that he couldn’t be. But on the whole /The
favourite theory’s somewhat like this:
Hamlet is idiotically sane/With lucid intervals of lunacy.
G: I think I have it. A man talking sense to himself is no
madder than a man talking nonsense not to himself.
R: Or just as mad.
G: Or just as mad.
R: And he does both.
G: So there you are.
R: Stark raving sane…What are you playing at?
G: Words. Words. They’re all we have to go on…
Rosencrantz?
R: What?
G: Guildenstern?
R: What/
G: Don’t you discriminate at ALL?
The Player/Shakespeare: Why?
G: Ah, why?
R: Exactly!
G: Exactly what?
R: Exactly why?
G: Exactly why what?
R: What?
G: Why?
R: Why what exactly?
G: WHY IS HE MAD?
R: I DON’T KNOW!
G: Is that you?
R: I don’t know
G: (in disgust)It’s you.
Player/Shakespeare: We are tragedians, you see? We follow
directions. There’s no choice involved. The bad end
unhappily, the good, unluckily. That’s what tragedy means.
R: We drift down on time, clutching at straws. But what
good’s a brick to a drowning man? Be happy – if you’re not
happy what’s so good about surviving? We’ll be all right. I
suppose we just go on…We must divise some plan to stop
this match!
G: Stay! Many years ago, King Claudius/Was guilty of a five-
act tragedy./ The play was damned, and none may mention
it/ Under the pain of death. We might contrive/ To make him
play this piece before the King,/And take the consequence.
R: Impossible! For every copy was destroyed.
OPH: But one, my father’s. In his capacity/As our Lord
Chamberlain (all bow reverentially at the mention of L.CH.)
he has one copy. This night, when all the Court is drowned in
sleep/Will abstract the precious document.(exit OPH)
G: The plan is well conceived…(holds up a feather and a
wooden ball) Look at this. You would think this would fall
faster than this.(drops them)
R: And you would be absolutely right.
(enter QU)
QU: Have you as yet planned aught that may relieve/Our
poor son’s despondency?
R: Madam, we’ve lost no time. Already we are getting up
some Court theatricals/ In which the Prince will play a
leading part.
QU: That’s well-bethought-it will divert his mind./But soft, he
comes.
R: How gloomily he stalks,/Starts-looks around-then, as if
reassured,/Rumples his hair and rolls his glassy eyes!
QU:(appalled)That means he’s going to soliloquise!/prevent
this, gentlemen, by any means!
R&G: We will, we will(they kneell) But how?
QU: A mother’s blessing be upon you sirs.(exit)
R&G(rising)Now Guildenstern, apply thee to this task.
(enter Hamlet)
Hamlet: To be - or not to be!
R: Yes, that’s the question- whether he’s bravest who will cut
his throat/rather than suffer all…
H: Go away, go away…To die- to sleep…
R: Half of what he said meant something else and the other
half didn’t mean anything at all. Eternity’s a terrible thought.
I mean, where’s it all going to end? Did you ever think of
yourself as actually dead, lying in a box with a lid on it?
G: No, no, no…you’ve got it all wrong, you can’t act death.
The fact of it is nothing to do with seeing it happen- it’s not
gasps and blood and falling about – that isn’t what makes it
death. It’s just a man failing to reappear, that’s all – now you
see him, now you don’t…an exit, unobtrusive and
unannounced, a disappearance, gathering weight as it goes
on, until finally, it is heavy with DEATH. Death is “not”…take
my meaning. Death is the ultimate negative. Not being.
R: It’s silly to be depressed by it. I mean, one thinks of it like
being alive in a box. One keeps forgetting to take into
account the fact the fact that one is dead, which should
make all the difference, shouldn’t it? I mean you’d never
know you’re in a box. It would be just like you were asleep in
a box. Not that I’d like to sleep in a box, mind you. Not
without any air. You’d wake up dead for a start, and then,
where would you be? In a box. That’s the bit I don’t like,
frankly. That’s why I don’t think of it. Because you’d be
helpless, wouldn’t you? Stuffed in a box like that. I mean,
you’d be in there forever, even taking into account the fact
that you’re dead. It isn’t a pleasant thought. Especially if
you’re dead, really. Ask yourself, if I asked you straight off,
“I’m going to stuff you in this box. Now, would you rather be
alive or dead?” naturally you’d prefer to be alive. Life in a
box is better than no life at all, expect. You’d have the
chance, at least. You could lie there thinking, “Well, at least
I’m not dead. In a minute somebody is going to bang on the
lid, and tell me to come out.”(bangs on the lid). Hey, you!
What’s your name? come out there!”
G: (long pause) I think I’m going to kill you. The only
question is/ between the choice of deaths, which deaths to
choose. (offers a revolver)
Hamlet: Do take those dreadful things away. They make/ My
blood run cold. Go away, go away!
(R&G turn aside. Hamlet continues)
H: To sleep, perchance to …
R: Dream/ That’s very true. I never dream myself./But
Guildenstern dreams all night long out loud.
G: With blushes, sir, I do confess it true!
(Hamlet retires, buried in soliloquy, OPH, white with terror,
rushes in with manuscript)
OPH: Rosencrantz!
R: Well?
OPH: I’ve found the manuscript,/But never put me to such
work again! It was most horrible
R: Give me then the play,/And I’ll submit it to the Prince.
Hamlet: Why, what’s that?
G: We have been looking through some dozen plays/ To find
one suited to our company. This is, my lord, a five-act
tragedy.
H: That’s excellent/ That’s very good, indeed…We’ll play this
piece (withdraws, reading the manuscript; enter procession
King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Courtiers, R&G, waiting for
the play to start)
R: The plot’s impossible,/And all the dialogue bombastic
stuff….a piece of pompous folly intended to excite no loftier
emotion than laughter and surprise. (Hamlet and players
come forward)
CL: Good sirs, we welcome you to Elsinore./Prepare you
now…to taste/ This intellectual treat in store for us.
H: We’re ready, sir. (turning to players) But before we begin,
I would speak a word to you who are to play this piece. I
have chosen this play in the face of sturdy opposition from
well-esteemed friends, who were for playing a piece with
less bombastic fury and more frolic. For which reason I pray
you, let there be no huge red noses, nor extravagant
monstrous wigs, nor coarse men garbed as women, in this
comi-tragedy; for such things are as much to say, “I am a
comic fellow-I pray you laugh at me and hold what I say to
be cleverly ridiculous.” Such labeling of humour is an
impertinence to your audience, for it seemth to imply that
they are unable to recognize a joke unless it be pointed out
to them. I pray you avoid it.
CL” Come, let us take our places. Gather round/that all may
see this fooling. Here’s a chair…(All rush to take a seat on
that only chair, bustle, fall etc) in which I shall find room to
roll about/ When laughter takes possession of my soul./Now
we are ready. ( to R) is this play well known?
R: It is not, my lord.

THE HAMLETMACHINE

Hamlet: I can’t bear death, I’m a philosopher.

CL: That’s true, but how shall we dispose of him?.
OPHELIA (in wheelchair, wrapped in white packaging,
suddenly)A thought!
There is a certain isle beyond the sea/ Where dwell a
cultured race – compared with whom/We are but poor
barbarians;/It is known as Engle-land. Oh, send him there! If
but the half of what I’ve heard be true/They will enshrine him
on their great good hearts,/And men will rise or sink in good
esteem/According as they worship him, or slight him!
CL: We’re dull dogs in Denmark. It may be/That we
misjudged him. If such a race there be ( There may be, I’m
not a well-read man)/They’re welcome to his philosophic
brain/So, Hamlet, get thee gone – and don’t come back
again! ( Hamlet, who is delighted at the suggestion, crosses
to Queen, kisses her; he then embraces Ophelia, goes to the
front of the stage and exclaims) To Engle-land.
R: Shouldn’t we do something…constructive?
G: What do you have in mind? A short, blunt human
pyramid?
R: I can’t think of anything. I’m only good in support.(R
begins to cry, G puts an arm round him).
G: It’s all right, I’ll see we’re all right.
R: (sobbing) But we’ve got nothing!
G: We’ve got a letter.
R: So, we’ve got a letter which explains everything.
G: You’ve got it!
R: I thought you had it.
G: I do have it.
R: You have it?
G: You’ve got it!
R: I don’t get it!
G: You haven’t got it?
R: I’ve just said that!
G: I’ve got it!
R: Oh, I got it!
G: Shut up!
R: Right.
G: What shambles! We’re just not getting anywhere.
R: Not even England. I don’t believe in it anyway.
G: What?
R: England.
G: Just a conspiracy of cartographers, then?
Player/Shakespeare: Generally speaking things have gone
about as far as they can possibly go…Events must play
themselves out to aesthetic, moral and logical conclusion.
Life is a gamble, at terrible odds-if it was a bet, you wouldn’t
take it.
R&G (exit tossing coins) Heads…heads……. English guards
snatch R&G.
R: Do you think DEATH could possibly be a boat?
G: If this is our destiny, then that was his, and if there are no
explanations for us, let there be none for him(stabs the
player/Shakespeare)
Player/Shakespeare: Every exit is an entrance somewhere
else. Audiences know what they expect and that is all they
are prepared to believe in. I congratulate you on the un-
ambiguity of your situation. We’re actors – we’re the
opposite of people!