by Tom Stoppard
ROS ( doubtfully): Well, I don't know...
PLAYER: It costs little to watch, and little more if you happen to get caught up in the action, if that's your taste and times being what they are.
ROS: What are they?
PLAYER: Indifferent.
ROS: Bad?
PLAYER: Wicked. Now what precisely is your pleasure? ( He turns to the TRAGEDIANS . ) Gentlemen, disport yourselves.
The TRAGEDIANS shuffle into some kind of line.
There! See anything you like?
ROS ( doubtful, innocent): What do they do?
PLAYER: Let your imagination run riot. They are beyond surprise.
ROS: And how much?
PLAYER: To take part?
ROS: To watch.
PLAYER: Watch what?
ROS: A private performance.
PLAYER: How private?
ROS: Well, there are only two of us. Is that enough?
PLAYER: For an audience, disappointing. For voyeurs, about average..
ROS: What's the difference?
PLAYER: Ten guilders.
ROS ( horrified): Ten guilders!
PLAYER: I mean eight.
ROS: Together?
PLAYER: Each.
ROS: I don't think you understand--- What are you saying?
PLAYER: What am I saying---seven.
ROS: Where have you been?
PLAYER: Roundabout. A nest of children carries the custom of the town. Juvenile companies, they are the fashion. But they cannot match our repertoire... we'll stoop to anything if that's your bent.
He regards ROS meaningfully but ROS returns the stare blankly.
ROS: They'll grow up.
PLAYER ( giving up): There's one born every minute. ( To TRAGEDIANS :) On-ward!
The TRAGEDIANS Start to resume their burdens and their Journey. GUIL stirs himself at last.
GUIL: Where are you going?
PLAYER: Ha-altl They halt and turn. Home, sir.
GUIL: Where from?
PLAYER: Home. We're travelling people. We take our chances where we find them.
GUIL: It was chance, then?
PLAYER: Chance?
GUIL: You found us.
PLAYER: Oh yes.
GUIL: You were looking?
PLAYER: Oh no.
GUIL: Chance, then.
PLAYER: Or fate.
GUIL: Yours or ours?
PLAYER: It could hardly be one without the other.
GUIL: Fate, then.
PLAYER: Oh yes. We have no control. Tonight we play to the court. Or the night after. Or to the tavern. Or not.
GUIL: Perhaps I can use my influence.
PLAYER: At the tavern?
GUIL: At the court. I would say I have some influence.
PLAYER: Would you say so?
GUIL: I have influence yet.
PLAYER: Yet what?
GUIL seizes the PLAYER violently.
GUIL: I have influence!
The PLAYER does not resist. GUIL loosens his hold.
(More calmly.): You said something---about getting caught up in the action.
PLAYER ( gaily freeing himself): I did!---I did!---You're quicker than your friend...
( Confidingly. ) Now for a handful of guilders I happen to have a private and uncut performance of The Rape of the Sabine Women---or rather woman, or rather Alfred---
( Over his shoulder. ) Get your skirt on, Alfred...
BOY starts struggling into a female robe
... and for eight you can participate.
GUIL backs, PLAYER follows
... taking either part.
GUIL backs
... or both for ten.
GUIL tries to turn away, PLAYER holds his sleeve.
... with encores.
GUIL smashes the PLAYER across the face. The PLAYER recoils. GUIL stands trembling.
( Resigned and quiet). Get your skirt off, Alfred.
ALFRED struggles out of his half-on robe...
GUIL ( shaking with rage and fright): It could have been---it didn't have to be obscene... It could have been---a bird out of season, dropping bright-feathered on my shoulder... I could have been a tongueless dwarf standing by the road point the way... I was prepared. But it's this, is it? No enigma, no dignity, nothing classical, portentous, only this ---a comic pornographer and a rabble of prostitutes. .
PLAYER ( acknowledging the description with a sweep of his he bowing; sadly): You should have caught us in better times. We were purists then. ( Straightens up. ) On-ward.
The PLAYERS make to leave.
ROS ( his voice has changed; he has caught on): Excuse me!
PLAYER: Ha-alt!
They halt.
A-al-l-fred!
ALFRED resumes the struggle. The PLAYER comes forward.
ROS: You're not-ah-exclusively players, then?
PLAYER: We're inclusively players, sir.
ROS: So you give---exhibitions?
PLAYER: Performances, Sir.
ROS: Yes, of course. There's more money in that, is there?
PLAYER: There's more trade, Sir.
ROS: Times being what they are.
PLAYER: Yes.
ROS: Indifferent.
PLAYER: Completely.
ROS: You know I'd no idea
PLAYER: No---
ROS: I mean, I've heard of---but I've never actually
PLAYER: No.
ROS: I mean, what exactly do you do?
PLAYER: We keep to our usual stuff, more or less, only inside out. We do on stage the things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit being an entrance somewhere else.
ROS ( nervy, loud): Well, I'm not really the type of man who--no, but don't hurry off---sit down and tell us about some of the things people ask you to do.
The PLAYER turns away.
PLAYER: On-ward!
ROS: Just a minute! They turn and look at him without expression. Well, all right---I wouldn't mind seeing---just an idea of the kind of---( Bravely. ) What will you do for that? ( And tosses a single coin on the ground between them. )
The PLAYER spits at the coin, from where he stands. The TRAGEDIANS demur, trying to get at the coin. He kicks and cuffs them back.
On!
ALFRED is still half in and out of his robe. The PLAYER cuffs him.
( TO ALFRED :) What are you playing at?
ROS is shamed into fury.
ROS: Filth! Disgusting---I'll report you to the authorities---perverts! I know your game all right, it's all filth!
The PLAYERS are about to leave. GUIL has remained detached.
GUIL ( casually): Do you like a bet?
The TRAGEDIANS turn and look interested. The PLAYER comes forward.
PLAYER: What kind of bet did you have in mind?
GUIL walks half the distance towards the PLAYER , Stomps his boot over the coin.
GUIL: Double or quits.
PLAYER: Well... heads.
GUIL raises his foot. The PLAYER bends. The TRAGEDIAN crowd round. Relief and congratulations. The PLAYER picks up the coin. GUIL throws him a second coin.
GUIL: Again?
Some of the TRAGEDIANS are for it, others against.
GUIL: Evens.
The PLAYER nods and tosses the coin.
GUIL: Heads.
It is. He picks it up. Again. GUIL spins coin.
PLAYER: Heads.
It is. PLAYER picks up coin. He has two coins again. He spins one.
GUIL: Heads.
It is. GUIL picks it up. Then tosses it immediately.
PLAYER ( fractional hesitation): Tails.
But it's heads. GUIL picks it up. PLAYER tosses down his last coin by way of paying up, and turns away. GUIL doesn't pick it up; he puts his foot on it.
GUIL: Heads.
PLAYER: No!
Pause. The TRAGEDIANS are against this.
( Apologetically. ) They don't like the odds.
GUIL ( lifts his foot,
squats, picks up the coin still squatting, looks up): You were right---
heads. ( Spins it, slaps his hand on it, on the floor. ) Heads I win.
PLAYER: No.
GUIL ( uncovers coin): Right again. ( Repeat. ) Heads I win.
PLAYER: No.
GUIL ( uncovers coin): And right again. ( Repeat. ) Heads I win.
PLAYER: No!
He turns away, the TRAGEDIANS with him. comes close. GUIL stands up, GUIL: Would you believe it? ( Stands back, relaxes smiles. ) Bet me the year of my birth doubled is an odd number.
PLAYER: Your birth---!
GUIL: If you don't trust me don't bet with me.
PLAYER: Would you trust me?
GUIL: Bet me then.
PLAYER: My birth?
GUIL: Odd numbers you win.
PLAYER: You're on!
The TRAGEDIANS have come forward, wide awake.
GUIL: Good. Year of your birth. Double it. Even numbers I win, odd numbers I lose. Silence.
An awful sigh as the TRAGEDIANS realize that any number doubled is even. Then a terrible row as they object. Then a terrible silence.
PLAYER: We have no money. GUIL turns to him.
GUIL: Ah. Then what have you got?
The PLAYER silently brings ALFRED forward. GUIL regards ALFRED sadly.
Was it for this?
PLAYER: It's the best we've got.
GUIL ( looking up and around): Then the times are bad indeed.
The PLAYER starts to speak, protestation, but GUIL turns on him viciously.
The very air stinks.
The PLAYER moves back. GUIL moves down to the footlights and turns.
Come here, Alfred.
ALFRED moves down and stands, frightened and small.
( Gently. ) Do you lose often?
ALFRED: Yes, Sir.
GUIL: Then what could you have left to lose?
ALFRED: Nothing, sir.
Pause. GUIL regards him.
GUIL: Do you like being... an actor?
ALFRED: No, sir.
GUIL looks around, at the audience.
GUIL: You and I, Alfred---we could create a dramatic precedent here.
And ALFRED , who has been near tears, starts to sniffle.
Come, come, Alfred, this is no way to fill the theatres of Europe.
The PLAYER has moved down, GUIL cuts him oft again.
( Viciously. ) Do you know any good plays?
to remonstrate with ALFRED .
PLAYER: Plays?
ROS ( Coming forward, faltering Shyly): Exhibitions...
GUIL: I thought you said you were actors.
PLAYER ( dawning): Oh. Oh well, we are. We are. But there hasn't been much call GUIL: You lost. Well then --- one of the Greeks, perhaps? You're familiar with the tragedies of antiquity, are you? The great homicidal classics? Matri, patri, fratri, sorrori, uxori and it goes without saying
ROS: Saucy--- --Suicidal-hm? Maidens aspiring to godheads
ROS: And vice versa
GUIL: Your kind of thing, is it?
PLAYER: Well, no, I can't say it is, really. We're more of the blood, love and rhetoric school.
GUIL: Well, I'll leave the choice to you, if there is anything to choose between them.
PLAYER: They're hardly divisible, sir---well, I can do you blood and love without the rhetoric, and I can do you blood and rhetoric without the love, and I can do you all three concurrent or consecutive, but I can't do you love and rhetoric without the blood.
Blood is compulsory---they' all blood, you see.
GUIL: Is that what people want?
PLAYER: It's what we do. ( Small pause. He turns away. )
GUIL touches ALFRED On the shoulder.
GUIL: ( wry, gentle): Thank you; we'll let you know.
The PLAYER has moved upstage. ALFRED follows.
PLAYER ( to TRAGEDIANS): Thirty-eight!
ROS ( moving across, fascinated and hopeful): Position?
PLAYER: Sir?
ROS: One of your--- tableaux?
PLAYER: No, sir.
ROS: Oh.
PLAYER ( to the TRAGEDIANS now departing with their cart, air taking various props off it): Entrances there and there ( indicating upstage).
The PLAYER has not moved his position for his last four lines. He does not move now.
GUIL waits.
GUIL: Well... aren't you going to change into your costume?
PLAYER: I never change out of it, sir.
GUIL: Always in character.
PLAYER: That's it.
Pause.
GUIL: Aren't you going to-come on?
PLAYER: I am on.
GUIL: But if you are on, you Can't Come On. Can you?
PLAYER: I start on.
GUIL: But it hasn't started. Go on. Well look out for you.
PLAYER: I'll give you a wave.
He does not move. His immobility is now pointed, and getting awkward. Pause. ROS
walks tip to him till they are face to face.
ROS: Excuse me.
Pause. The PLAYER lifts his downstage foot. It was covering GUIL 'S Coin. ROS puts his foot on the coin. Smiles.
Thank you.
The PLAYER turns and goes. ROS has bent for the coin.
GUIL ( Moving out): Come On.
ROS: I say---that was lucky.
GUIL ( turning): What?
ROS: It was tails.
He tosses the coin to GUIL who catches It. Simultaneously a lighting change sufficient to alter the exterior mood into interior, but nothing violent. And OPHELIA runs On in some alarm, holding up her skirts---followed by HAMLET . OPHELIA has been sewing and she holds the garment. They are both mute. HAMLET , with his doublet all unbraced, no hat upon his head, his stockings fouled, ungartered and down-gyved to his ankle, pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other... and with a look so piteous, he takes her by the wrist and holds her hard, then he goes to the length of his arm, and with his other hand over his brow, falls to such perusal of her face as he would draw it... At last, with a little shaking of his arm, and thrice his head waving up and down, he raises a sigh so piteous and profound that it does seem to shatter all his bulk and end his being. That done he lets her go, and with his head over his shoulder turned, he goes out backwards without taking his eyes off her... she runs off in the opposite direction. ROS and GUIL have frozen. GUIL unfreezes first. He jumps at ROS .
GUIL: Come on!
But a flourish---enter CLAUDIUS and GERTRUDE , attended.
CLAUDIUS: Welcome, dear Rosencrantz... ( he raises a hand at GUIL while ROS bows---
GUIL bows late and hurriedly)... and Guildenstern. He raises a hand at ROS while GUIL bows to him---ROS is still straightening up from his previous bow and halfway up he bows down again. With his head down, he twists to look at GUIL, who is on the way up. Moreover that we did much long to see you, The need we have to use you did provoke Our hasty Sith nor th'exterior nor the inward man Resembles that it was. What it should be, More than his father's death, that thus hath put him, So much from th'understanding of himself, I cannot dream of. I entreat you both That, being of so young days brought up with him And sith so neighboured to his youth and haviour That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court Some little time, so by your companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather So much as from occasion you may glean, Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus, That opened lies within our remedy.
GERTRUDE: Good ( fractional suspense) gentlemen. They both bow. He hath much talked of you, And sure I am, two men there is not living To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To show us so much gentry and goodwill As to expand your time with us awhile For the supply and profit of our hope, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a king's remembrance.
ROS: Both your majesties Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty.
GUIL: But we both obey, And here give up ourselves in the full bent To lay our service freely at
your feet, To be commanded.
CLAUDIUS: Thanks, Rosencrantz ( turning to ROS Who is Caught unprepared, while GUIL
bows) and gentle Guildenstern ( turning to GUIL who is bent double).
GERTRUDE ( correcting): Thanks Guildenstern. ( turning to ROS , who bows as GUIL checks upward movement to bow to both bent double, squinting at each other)... and gentle Rosencrantz ( turning to GUIL , both straightening up--- GUIL checks again and bows again). And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son. Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.
TWO ATTENDANTS exit backwards, indicating that ROS and GUIL should follow.
GUIL: Heaven make our presence Pleasant and helpful to him.
GERTRUDE: Ay, amen' and our practices!
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 stop here--- We'll soon be home and high--dry and home---I'll--- It's all over my depth--- -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 bodyguard 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.
