Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Arcadia Page 5

  GUIL stirs restlessly, pulling his cloak round him.

  Because you'd be helpless, wouldn't you? Stuffed in a box like that, I mean you'd be in there for ever. 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. I expect. You'd have a chance at least. You could lie there thinking well, at least I'm not dead! In a minute someone's going to bang on the lid and tell me to come out. ( Banging the floor with his fists. ) "Hey you, whatsyername! Come out of there

  GUIL ( jumps up savagely): You don't have to flog it to death!

  Pause.

  ROS: I wouldn't think about it, if I were you. You'd only get depressed. ( Pause. ) Eternity is a terrible thought. I mean, where's it going to end? ( Pause, then brightly. ) Two early Christians chanced to meet in Heaven. "Saul of Tarsus yet!" cried one. "What are you doing here?!"... "Tarsus-Schmarsus," replied the other, "I'm Paul already." ( He stands up restlessly and flaps his arms. ) They don't care. We count for nothing. We could remain silent tin we're green in the face, they wouldn't come.

  GUIL: Blue, red.

  ROS: A Christian, a Moslem and a Jew chanced to meet in a closed carriage "Silverstein!"

  cried the Jew. "Who's your friend?"... "His name's Abdullah," replied the Moslem, "but he's no friend of mine since he became a convert." ( He leaps up again, stamps his foot and shouts into the wings. ) All right, we know you're in there! Come out talking!

  ( Pause. ) We have no control. None at all... ( He paces. ) Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one, a moment, in childhood when it first occurred to you that you don't go on for ever. It must have been shattering---stamped into one's memory. And yet I can't remember it. It never occurred to me at all. What does one make of that? We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we know the words for it, before we know that there are words, out we come, bloodied and squalling with the knowledge that for all the compasses in the world, there's only one direction, and time is its only measure. ( He reflects, getting more desperate and rapid. ) A Hindu, a Buddhist and a lion-tamer chanced to meet, in a circus on the Indo-Chinese border. ( He breaks out. ) They're taking us for granted! Well, I won't stand for it! In future, notice will be taken. ( He wheels again to face into the wings. ) Keep out, then! I forbid anyone to enter! ( No one comes. Breathing heavily. ) That's better...

  Immediately, behind him a grand procession enters, principally CLAUDIUS , GERTRUDE , POLONIUS and OPHELIA . CLAUDIUS takes ROS 's elbow as he passes and is immediately deep in conversation: the context is Shakespeare Act 111, scene i. GUIL still faces front as CLAUDIUS , ROS , etc., pass upstage and turn.

  GUIL: Death followed by eternity the worst of both worlds. It is a terrible thought.

  He turns upstage in time to take over the conversation with CLAUDIUS . GERTRUDE

  and ROS head downstage.

  GERTRUDE: Did he receive you well?

  ROS: Most like a gentleman.

  GUIL ( returning in time to take it up): But with much forcing of his disposition.

  ROS ( a flat lie and he knows it and shows it, perhaps catching GUIL 's eye): Niggard of question, but of our demands most free in his reply.

  GERTRUDE: Did you assay him to any pastime?

  ROS: Madam, it so fell out that certain players We o'erraught on the way: of these we told him And there did seem in him a kind of joy To hear of it. They are here about the court, And, as I think, they have already order This night to play before him.

  POLONIUS: 'Tis most true And he beseeched me to entreat your Majesties To hear and see the matter.

  CLAUDIUS: With all my heart, and it doth content me To hear him so inclined. Good gentlemen, give him a further edge And drive his purpose into these delights.

  ROS: We shall, my lord.

  CLAUDIUS ( leading out procession): Sweet Gertrude, leave us, too, For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, That he, as t'were by accident, may here Affront Ophelia...

  Exeunt CLAUDIUS and GERTRUDE. ROS ( peevish): Never a moment's peace! In and out, on and they're coming at us from all sides.

  GUIL: You're never satisfied.

  ROS: Catching us on the trot... Why can't we go by them?

  GUIL: What's the difference?

  ROS: I'm going.

  ROS pulls his cloak round him. GUIL ignores him. Without confidence ROS heads upstage. He looks out and comes back quickly.

  He's coming.

  GUIL: What's he doing?

  ROS: Nothing.

  GUIL: He must be doing something.

  ROS: Walking.

  GUIL: On his hands?

  ROS: No, on his feet.

  GUIL: Stark naked?

  ROS: Fully dressed.

  GUIL: Selling toffee apples?

  ROS: Not that I noticed.

  GUIL: You could be wrong?

  ROS: I don't think so.

  Pause.

  GUIL: I can't for the life of me see how we're going to get into conversation.

  HAMLET enters upstage, and pauses, weighing up the pros and cons of making his quietus. ROS and GUIL watch him.

  ROS: Nevertheless, I suppose one might say that this was a chance... One might well... accost him... Yes, it definitely looks like a chance to me... Something on the lines of a direct informal approach... man to man... straight from the shoulder... Now look here, what's it all about... sort of thing. Yes. Yes, this looks like one to be grabbed with both hands, I should say... if I were asked.... No point in looking at a gift horse till you see the whites of its eyes, etcetera. ( He has moved towards HAMLET)

  ROS: Excuse me. but his nerve fails. He returns.) We're overawed, that's our trouble. When it comes to the point we succumb to their personality...

  OPHELIA enters, with prayerbook, a religious procession of one.

  HAMLET: Nymph, in thy orisons; be all my sins remembered.

  At his voice she has stopped for him, he catches her up.

  OPHELIA: Good my lord, how does your honour for this many day?

  HAMLET: I humbly thank you---well, well, well. They disappear talking into the wing.

  ROS: It's like living in a public park!

  GUIL: Very impressive. Yes, I thought your direct informal approach was going to stop this thing dead in its tracks there. If I might make a suggestion---shut up and sit down Stop being perverse.

  ROS ( near tears): I'm not going to stand for it!

  A FEMALE FIGURE , ostensibly the QUEEN , enters. ROS march up behind her, puts his hands over her eyes and says with a desperate frivolity.

  ROS: Guess who?!

  PLAYER ( having appeared in a downstage corner): Alfred!

  ROS lets go, spins around. He has been holding ALFRED , in his robe and blond wig.

  PLAYER is in the downstage corner still. ROS comes down to that exit. The PLAYER

  does not budge He and ROS stand toe to toe. The PLAYER lifts his downstage foot.

  ROS bends to put his hand on the floor. The PLAYER lowers his foot. ROS screams and leaps away.

  PLAYER ( gravely): I beg your pardon.

  GUIL ( to ROS): What did he do?

  PLAYER: I put my foot down.

  ROS: My hand was on the floor!

  GUIL: You put your hand under his foot?

  ROS: I---

  GUIL: What for?

  ROS: I thought--- ( Grabs GUIL . ) Don't leave me!

  He makes a break for an exit. A TRAGEDIAN dressed as a KING enters. ROS recoils, breaks for the opposite wing. Two cloaked TRAGEDIANS enter. ROS tries again but another TRAGEDIAN enters, and ROS retires to misstate. The PLAYER claps his hands matter-of-factly.

  PLAYER: Right! We haven't got much time.

  GUIL: What are you doing?

  PLAYER: Dress rehearsal. Now if you two wouldn't mind just moving back... there..
. good...

  ( TO TRAGEDIANS) Everyone ready? And for goodness' sake, remember what we're doing. ( TO ROS and GUIL :) We always use the same costumes more or less, and they forget what they are supposed to be in you see... Stop picking your nose, Alfred. When Queens have to they do it by a cerebral process passed down in the blood... Good.

  Silence! Off we go!

  PLAYER-KING: Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart

  PLAYER jumps up angrily.

  PLAYER: No, no, no! Dumbshow first, your confounded majesty! ( To ROS and GUIL :) They're a bit out of practice, but they always pick up wonderfully for the deaths---it brings out the poetry in them.

  GUIL: How nice.

  PLAYER: There's nothing more unconvincing than an unconvincing death.

  GUIL: I'm sure.

  PLAYER claps his hands.

  PLAYER: Act One-moves now.

  The mime. Soft music from a recorder. PLAYER - KING and PLAYER - QUEEN

  embrace. She kneels and makes a show protestation to him. He takes her up, declining his head upon her neck. He lies down. She, seeing him asleep, leaves him.

  GUIL: What is the Dumbshow for?

  PLAYER: Well, it's a device, really---it makes the action that follows more or less comprehensible; you understand, are tied down to a language which makes up in obscurity what it lacks in style.

  The mime (continued) ---enter another. He takes off the SLEEPER's crown, kisses it.

  He has brought in a small bottle of liquid. He pours the poison in the SLEEPER's ear, and lei him. The SLEEPER convulses heroically, dying.

  ROS: Who was that?

  PLAYER: The King's brother and uncle to the Prince.

  GUIL: Not exactly fraternal

  PLAYER: Not exactly avuncular, as time goes on.

  The QUEEN returns, makes passionate action, finding the KING dead. The POISONER comes in again, attended by others (the two in cloaks). The POISONER

  seems to console with her. The dead body is carried away. The POISONER woos the QUEEN with gifts. She seems harsh awhile but in the end accepts his love. End of mime, at which point, the wait of a woman in torment and OPHELIA appears, wailing, closely followed by HAMLET in a hysterical state, shouting at her, circling her, both misstate.

  HAMLET: Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad! She falls on her knees weeping. I say we will have no more marriage! ( His voice drops to include the TRAGEDIANS , who have frozen. ) Those that are married already ( he leans close to the PLAYER -

  QUEEN and POISONER , speaking with quiet edge) all but one shall live. ( He smiles briefly at them without mirth, and starts to back out, his parting shot rising again. ) The rest shall keep as they are. ( As he leaves, OPHELIA tottering upstage, he speaks into her ear a quick clipped sentence. ) To a nunnery, go.

  He goes out. OPHELIA falls on to her knees upstage, her sobs barely audible. A slight silence.

  PLAYER-KING: Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart

  CLAUDIUS enters with POLONIUS and goes over to OPHELIA and lifts her to her feet. The TRAGEDIANS jump back with heads inclined.

  CLAUDIUS: Love? His affections do not that way tend, Or what he spake, though it lacked form a little, Was not like madness. There's something In his soul o'er which his melancholy sits on Brood, and I do doubt the hatch and the Disclose will be some danger; which for to Prevent I have in quick determination thus set It down: he shall with speed to England.

  Which carries the three of them-- CLAUDIUS , POLONIUS , OPHELIA ---out of sight.

  The PLAYER moves, clapping his hands for attention.

  PLAYER: Gentlemen! ( They look at him. ) It doesn't seem to be coming. We are not getting it at all. ( To GUIL :) What did think?

  GUIL: What was I supposed to think?

  PLAYER ( To TRAGEDIANS): You're not getting across!

  ROS had gone halfway up to OPHELIA ; he returns.

  ROS: That didn't look like love to me.

  GUIL: Starting from scratch again...

  PLAYER ( to TRAGEDIANS): It was a mess.

  ROS ( to GUIL): It going to be chaos on the night

  GUIL: Keep back---we're spectators.

  PLAYER: Act Two! Positions!

  GUIL: Wasn't that the end?

  PLAYER: Do you call that an ending?---with practically everyone on his feet? My goodness no--- over your dead body.

  GUIL: How am I supposed to take that?

  PLAYER: Lying down. ( He laughs briefly and in a second has never laughed in his life. ) There's a design at work in all art surely you know that? Events must play themselves out aesthetic, moral and logical conclusion.

  GUIL: And what' that, in this case?

  PLAYER: It never varies---we aim at the point where everyone who is marked for death dies.

  GUIL: Marked?

  PLAYER: Between "just desserts' and "tragic irony" we are given quite a lot of scope for our particular talent. Generally speaking, things have gone about as far as they can possibly go when things have got about as bad as they reasonably get. ( He switches on a smile. )

  GUIL: Who decides?

  PLAYER ( switching off his smile): Decides? It is written.

  He turns away. GUIL grabs him and spins him back violently.

  ( Unflustered. ) Now if you're going to be subtle, we'll miss each other in the dark. I'm referring to oral tradition. So to speak.

  GUIL releases him.

  We're tragedians, you see. We follow directions---there is no choice involved. The bad end unhappily, the good unluckily. That is what tragedy means. ( Calling. ) Positions!

  The TRAGEDIANS have taken up positions for the continuation Of the mime: which in this case means a love scene, sexual and passionate, between the QUEEN and the POISONER -

  KING .

  PLAYER: Go!

  The lovers begin. The PLAYER contributes a breathless commentary for ROS and GUIL .

  Having murdered his brother and wooed the widow---the poisoner mounts the throne!

  Here we see him and his queen give rein to their unbridled passion! She little knowing that the man she holds in her arms---!

  ROS: Oh, I say---here---really! You can't do that!

  PLAYER: Why not?

  ROS: Well, really---I mean, people want to be entertained---they don't come expecting sordid and gratuitous filth.

  PLAYER: You're wrong---they do! Murder, seduction and incest ---what do you want---

  jokes?

  ROS: I want a good story, with a beginning, middle and end.

  PLAYER ( to GUIL): And you?

  GUIL: I'd prefer art to mirror life, if it's all the same to you.

  PLAYER: It's all the same to me, sir. ( To the grappling LOVERS) All right, no need to indulge yourselves. ( They get up. To GUIL :) I come on in a minute. Lucretius, nephew to the king! ( Turns his attention to the TRAGEDIANS) Next!

  They disport themselves to accommodate the next piece mime, which consists of the PLAYER himself exhibiting a excitable anguish (choreographed, stylized) leading to an impassioned scene with the QUEEN (cf. "The Closet Scene," Shakespeare Act III, scene iv) and a very stylized reconstruction of a POLONIUS figure being stabbed behind the arras (the murdered KING to stand in for POLONIUS ) while the PLAYER

  himself continues his breathless commentary for the benefit of ROS and GUIL .

  PLAYER: Lucretius, nephew to the king... usurped by his uncle and shattered by his mother's incestuous marriage loses . . his reason... throwing the court into turmoil and disarray as he alternates between bitter melancholy and unrestricted lunacy... staggering from the suicidal ( a pose) to the homicidal ( here he kills " POLONIUS " )... he at last confronts his mother and in a scene of provocative ambiguity---( a somewhat oedipal embrace) begs her to repent and recant. ( He springs up, still talking. ) The King---( he pushes forward the POISONER - KING) tormented by guilt---haunted by fear ---decides to despatch his nephew to England---and entrusts this undertaking to two smiling accomplices---

  friends--- two spies

  He has swung round to b
ring together the POISONER - KING and the two cloaked TRAGEDIANS the latter kneel and accept a scroll from the KING .

  ---giving them a letter to present to the English court and so they depart---on board ship The two SPIES position themselves on either side of the PLAYER , and the three of them sway gently in unison, the motion of a boat; and then the PLAYER detaches himself.

  ---and they arrive

  One spy shades his eyes at the horizon.

  -and disembark---and present themselves before the English king---( He wheels round. ) The English king---

  An exchange of headgear creates the ENGLISH KING from the remaining player---

  that is, the PLAYER who played the original murdered king.

  But where is the Prince? Where indeed? The plot has thickened---a twist of fate and cunning has put into their hands a letter that seals their deaths!

  The two SPIES present their letter, the ENGLISH KING reads it and orders their deaths. They stand up as the PLAYER whips off their cloaks preparatory to execution.

  Traitors hoist by their own petard?---or victims of the gods? ---we shall never know!

  The whole mime has been fluid and continuous but now ROS moves forward and brings it to a pause. What brings ROS forward is the fact that under their cloaks the two SPIES are wearing coats identical to those worn by ROS and GUIL , whose coats are now covered by their cloaks. ROS approaches "his" spy doubtfully. He does not quite understand why the coats are familiar. ROS stands close, touches the coat, thoughtfully...

  ROS: Well, if it isn't---! No, wait a minute, don't tell me---it's a long time since---where was it? Ah, this is taking me back to---when was it? I know you, don't I? I never forget a face---( he looks into the spy's face)... not that I know yours, that is. For a moment I thought---no, I don't know you, do I? Yes, I'm afraid you're quite wrong. You must have mistaken me for someone else.