Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Arcadia

by Tom Stoppard

  ROS: I thought I heard a band. ( In anguish. ) plausibility is all I presume!

  GUIL ( coda): Call us this day our daily tune…

  The lid of the middle barrel flies open and the PLAYER 'S head pops out.

  PLAYER: Ahal All in the same boat, then! ( He climbs out. He goes round banging on the barrels. ) Everybody out!

  Impossibly, the TRAGEDIANS climb out of the barrels. With their instruments, but not their cart. A few bundles. Except ALFRED . The PLAYER is cheerful.

  ( TO ROS :) Where are we?

  ROS: Travelling.

  PLAYER: Of course, We haven't got there yet.

  ROS: Are we all right for England?

  PLAYER: You look all right to me. I don't think they're very particular in England. Al-l-fred!

  ALFRED emerges from the PLAYERS barrel.

  GUIL: What are you doing here?

  PLAYER: Travelling.

  ( TO TRAGEDIANS :) Right-blend into the background!

  The TRAGEDIANS are in costume (from the mime): A King with crown, ALFRED as Queen, Poisoner and the two cloaked figures. They blend.

  ( TO GUIL :) Pleased to see us? ( Pause. ) You've come out of it very well, so far.

  GUIL: And you?

  PLAYER: In disfavour. Our play offended the King.

  GUIL: Yes.

  PLAYER: Well, he's a second husband himself. Tactless, really.

  ROS: It was quite a good play nevertheless.

  PLAYER: We never really got going-it was getting quite interesting when they stopped It.

  Looks up at HAMLET

  That's the way to travel...

  GUIL: What were you doing In there?

  PLAYER: Hiding, ( indicating costumes. ) We had to run for it just as we were.

  ROS: Stowaways.

  PLAYER: Naturally-we didn't get paid, owing to circumstances ever so slightly beyond our control, and all the money we had we lost betting on certainties. Life is a gamble, at terrible odds-if it was a bet you wouldn't take it. Did you know that any number doubled is even?

  ROS: Is It?

  PLAYER: We learn something every day, to our cost. But we troupers just go on and on. Do you know what happens to old actors?

  ROS: What?

  PLAYER: Nothing. They're still acting. Surprised, then?

  GUIL: What?

  PLAYER: Surprised to see us?

  GUIL: I knew it wasn't the end.

  PLAYER: With practically everyone on his feet. What do you make of it, so far?

  GUIL: We haven't got much to go on.

  PLAYER: You speak to him?

  ROS: It's possible.

  GUIL: But it wouldn't make any difference.

  ROS: But it's possible.

  GUIL: Pointless.

  ROS: It's allowed.

  GUIL: Allowed, yes. We are not restricted. No boundaries have been defined, no inhibitions imposed We have, for the while, secured, or blundered into, our release, for the while.

  Spontaneity and whim are the order of the day. Other wheels are turning but they are not our concern. We can breathe. We can relax. We can do what we like and say what we like to whomever we like an say what we like to whomever we like, without restriciton.

  ROS: Within limits, of course

  GUIL: Certainly within limits.

  HAMLET comes down to footlights and regards the audience. The others watch but don't speak. HAMLET clears his throat noisily and spits into the audience. A split second later he claps his hand to his eye and wipes himself. He goes back upstage.

  ROS: A compulsion towards philosophical introspection is his chief characteristic, if I may put it like that. It does not mean he is mad. It does not mean he isn't. Very often, it does not mean anything at all. Which May Or may not be a kind of madness.

  GUIL: It really boils down to symptoms. Pregnant replies, mystic allusions, mistaken identities, arguing his father is 116 his mother, that sort of thing; intimations of suicide, forgoing of exercise, loss of mirth, hints of claustrophobia not to say delusions of imprisonment; invocations of camels, chameleons, capons, whales, weasels, hawks, handsaws--riddles, quibbles and evasions; amnesia, paranoia, myopia; day-dreaming, hallucinations; stabbing his elders, abusing his parents, insulting his lover, and appearing hatless In public--knock-kneed droop- stockinged and sighing like a love-sick schoolboy, which at his age is coming on a bit strong.

  ROS: And talking to himself.

  ROS and GUIL move apart together.

  Well, where has that got US?

  ROS: He's the Player.

  GUIL: His play offended the King---

  ROS:--offended the King

  GUIL: -Who orders his arrest

  ROS: --orders his arrest

  GUIL: --so he escapes to England

  ROS: On the boat to which he meets

  GUIL: Guildenstern and Rosencrantz taking Hamlet---

  ROS: -who also offended the King ---

  GUIL: -and killed Polonius

  ROS: --offended the King in a variety of ways---

  GUIL: --to England. ( Pause. ) That seems to be it.

  ROS jumps up.

  ROS: Incidents! All we get is incidents! Dear God, is it too much to expect a little sustained action?

  And on the word, the PIRATES attack. That is to say. Noise and shouts and rushing about. "Pirates."' Everyone visible goes frantic. HAMLET draws his sword and rushes downstage. GUIL , ROS and PLAYER draw Swords and rush upstage. Collision.

  HAMLET turns back up. They turn back down. Collision. By which time there is general panic right upstage. All four charge upstage with ROS , GUIL and PLAYER ( shouting): At last! To arms! Pirates! Up there! Down there! To my sword's length!

  Action! All four reach the top, see something they don't like, waver, run for their lives!

  downstage: HAMLET , in the lead, leaps into the left barrel. PLAYER leaps into the right barrel. ROS and GUIL leap into the middle barrel. All closing the lids after them. The lights dim to nothing while the sound of fighting continues. The sound fades to nothing. The lights come up. The middle barrel ( ROS 's and GUIL 'S) is Missing. The lid of the right-hand barrel is raised cautiously, the heads Of ROS and GUIL appear.

  The lid of the other barrel ( HAMLET 'S) is raised. The head of the PLAYER appears.

  All catch sight of each other and slam down lids. Pause. Lids raised cautiously.

  ROS ( relief): They've gone. ( He starts to climb out. ) That was close. I've never thought quicker.

  They are all three out of barrels. GUIL is wary and nervous. ROS is light-headed. The PLAYER is phlegmatic. They note the missing barrel. ROS looks round.

  ROS: Where's----?

  PLAYER takes off his hat in mourning.

  PLAYER: Once more, alone--on our own resources.

  GUIL ( worried): What do you mean? Where is he?

  PLAYER: Gone.

  GUIL: Gone where?

  PLAYER: Yes, we were dead lucky there. If that's the word I'm after.

  ROS: ( not a pick up): Dead?

  PLAYER: Lucky.

  ROS ( he means): Is he dead?

  PLAYER: Who knows?

  GUIL ( rattled): He's not coming back?

  PLAYER: Hardly.

  ROS: He's dead then. He's dead as far as we're concerned.

  PLAYER: Or we are as far as he is. ( He goes and sits on the floor to one side. ) Not too bad, is it?

  GUIL ( rattled): But he can't-we're supposed to be-weve got a letter-we're going to England with a letter for the King

  PLAYER: Yes, that much seems certain. I congratulate you on the unambiguity of your situation.

  GUIL: But you don't understand-it contains-we've had our instructions-the whole thing's pointless without him.

  PLAYER: Pirates could happen to anyone. Just deliver the letter. They'll send ambassadors from England to explain...

  GUIL ( worked up): Can't you see-the pirates left us home and high--dry and home-drome--

  ( Furiously. ) The pirates left us high and dry!

  PLAYER
( comforting): There...

  GUIL ( near tears): Nothing will be resolved without him...

  PLAYER: There...

  GUIL: We need Hamlet for our release!

  PLAYER: There!

  GUIL: What are we supposed to do?

  PLAYER: This.

  He turns away, lies down if he likes. ROS and GUIL apart.

  ROS: Saved again.

  GUIL: Saved for what?

  ROS sighs.

  ROS: The sun's going down. ( Pause. ) It’ll be night soon. ( Pause. ) If that's west. ( Pause. ) Unless we've----

  GUIL ( shouts): Shut up! I'm sick of it! Do you think conversation is going to help us now?

  ROS ( hurt, desperately ingratiating): I-I bet you all the money I've got the year of my birth doubled is an odd number.

  GUIL ( moan): No-o.

  ROS: Your birth!

  GUIL Smashes him down.

  GUIL ( broken): We've travelled too far, and our momentum taken over; we move idly towards eternity without possibility of reprieve or hope of explanation.

  ROS: Be happy-if you're not even happy whats so good about surviving? ( He picks himself up. ) We'll be all right. I suppose we just go on.

  GUIL: Go where?

  ROS: To England.

  GUIL: England! That's a dead end. I never believed in it anyway.

  ROS: All we've got to do is make our report and that'll be that. Surely.

  GUIL: I don't believe it--a shore, a harbour, say-and we get off and we stop someone and say-Where's the King?. And he says, Oh, you follow that road there and take the first left and ( Furiously. ) I dont believe any of it

  ROS: It doesn't sound very plausible.

  GUIL: And even if we came face to face, what do we say?

  ROS: We say-We've arrived!

  GUIL ( kingly): And who are you?

  ROS: We are Guildenstern and Rosencrantz.

  GUIL: Which is which?

  ROS: Well, I'm-You're--

  GUIL: What's it all about?

  ROS: Well, we were bringing Hamlet-but then some pirates---

  GUIL: I don't begin to understand. Who are all these people, what's it got to do with me? You turn up out of the blue with some cock and bull story---

  ROS ( with letter): We have a letter

  GUIL ( snatches it, opens it): A letter-yes-that's true. That's something... a letter... ( Reads. )

  "As England is Denmark's faithful tributary... as love between them like the palm might flourish, etcetera... that on the knowing of this contents, without delay of any kind, should those bearers, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, put to sudden death---"

  He double-takes. ROS snatches the letter. GUIL snatches it back. ROS snatches it half back. They read it again and look up The PLAYER gets to his feet and walks over to his barrel and kicks it and shouts into it.

  PLAYER: They've gone! It's all over!

  One by one the PLAYERS emerge, impossibly, from the barrel, and form a casually menacing circle round ROS and GUIL , Who are still appalled and mesmerised.

  GUIL ( quietly): Where we went wrong was getting on a boat. We can move, of course, change direction, rattle about, but our movement is contained within a larger one that carries us along as inexorably as the wind and current...

  ROS: They had it in for us, didn't they? Right from the beginning. Who'd have thought that we were so important?

  GUIL: But why? Was it all for this? Who are we that so much should converge on our little deaths? ( In anguish to the PLAYER :) Who are we?

  PLAYER: You are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. That's enough.

  GUIL: No-it is not enough. To be told so little--to such an end and still, finally, to be denied an explanation

  PLAYER: In our experience, most things end in death.

  GUIL: ( fear, vengeance, scorn): Your experience!-Actors!

  He snatches a dagger from the PLAYER 's belt and holds the point at the PLAYER 'S

  throat: the PLAYER backs and GUIL advances, speaking more quietly.

  I'm talking about death-and you've never experienced that. And you cannot act it. You die a thousand casual deaths-with none of that intensity which squeezes out life... and no blood runs cold anywhere. Because even as you die you know that you will come back Is a different hat. But no one gets up after death-there is no applause-there is only silence and some second-hand clothes and that's-death--

  And he pushes the blade in up to the hilt. The PLAYER stands with huge, terrible eyes, clutches at the wound as the blade withdraws: he makes small weeping sounds and falls to his knees, and then right down. While he Is dying, GUIL , nervous, high, almost hysterical, wheels on the TRAGEDIANS .

  If we have a destiny, then so had he-and if this is ours, then that was his-and if there are no explanations for us, then let there be none for him.

  The TRAGEDIANS watch the PLAYER die: they watch with some Interest. The PLAYER finally ties still. A short moment of silence. Then the TRAGEDIANS start to applaud with genuine admiration. The PLAYER stands up, brushing himself down.

  PLAYER ( modestly): Oh, come, come, gentlemen-no flattery-it was merely competent.

  The TRAGEDIANS are still congratulating him. The PLAYER approaches GUIL , who stands rooted, holding the dagger.

  PLAYER: What did you think? ( Pause. ) You see, it is the kind they do believe in-it's what is expected.

  He holds his hand out for the dagger. GUIL Slowly puts the point of the dagger on to the PLAYER 's hand, and pushes . the blade slides back into the handle. The PLAYER

  smiles, reclaims the dagger.

  For a moment you thought I'd-cheated.

  ROS relieves his own tension with loud nervy laughter.

  ROS: Oh, very good! Very good! Took me in completely-didn't he take you in completely--

  ( claps his hands). Encore! Encore!

  PLAYER ( activated, arms spread, the professional): Deaths for all ages and occasions!

  Deaths by suspension, convulsion, consumption, incision, execution, asphyxiation and malnutrition-! Climactic carnage, by poison and by steel---! Double deaths by duel-!

  Show!---

  ALFRED , still in his Queen's costume, dies by poison: the PLAYER , with rapier, kills the " KING " and duels with a fourth TRAGEDIAN , inflicting and receiving a wound.

  The two remaining TRAGEDIANS , the two "SPIES" dressed in the same coats as ROS

  and GUIL , are stabbed, as before. And the light is fading over the deaths which take place right upstage. (Dying amid the dying-tragically, romantically.) So there's an end to that---it's commonplace: light goes with life, and in the winter of your years the dark comes early...

  GUIL ( tired, drained, but still an edge of impatience; over the mime): No... no... not for us, not like that. Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over...

  Death is not anything... death is not - . . It's the absence of presence, nothing more... the endless time of never coming back... a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound…

  The light has gone upstage. Only GUIL and ROS are visible as ROS 's clapping falters to silence. A Small pause.

  ROS: That's it, then, is it?

  No answer. He looks out front.

  The sun's going down. Or the earth's coming up, as I fashionable theory has it.

  Small pause.

  N ot that it makes any difference.

  Pause.

  What was it all about? When did it begin?

  Pause. No answer.

  Couldn't we just stay put? I mean no one is going to come on and drag us off... They'll just have to wait. We're still young... fit... we've got years…

  Pause. No answer.

  ( A cry. ) We've done nothing wrong! We didn't harm anyone. Did we?

  GUIL: I can't remember.

  ROS pulls himself together.

  ROS: All right, then. I don't care. I've had enough. To tell truth, I'm relieved.

  And he disappears from View. GUIL does not notice.

  GUIL: Our
names shouted in a certain dawn... a message . summons... There must have been a moment, at the beginning, where we could have said-no. But some missed it. ( He looks round and sees he is alone. ) Rosen-? Guil-?

  He gathers himself.

  Well, we'll know better next time. Now you see me, now you ( and disappears).

  Immediately the whole stage is lit up, revealing, upstage, arranged in the approximate positions last held by the dead TRAGEDIANS , the tableau of court and corpses which is he last scene of Hamlet. That is: The KING , QUEEN , LAERTES and HAMLET all dead.. HORATIO holds HAMLET . FORTINBRAS is there. So are two AMBASSADORS from England.

  AMBASSADOR: The sight is dismal; and our affairs from England come too late. The ears are senseless that should give us hearing to tell him his commandment is fulfilled, that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Where should we have our thanks?

  HORATIO: Not from his mouth, had it the ability of life to thank you: He never gave commandment for their death. But since, so jump upon this bloody question, you from the Polack wars, and you from England, are here arrived, give order that these bodies high on a stage be placed to the view; and let me speak to the yet unknowing world how these things came about: so shall you hear of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts, of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause, and, in this upshot, purposes mistook fallen on the inventors' heads: all this can I truly deliver.

  But during the above speech, the play fades out, overtaken by dark and music.

  TOM STOPPARD

  Arcadia

  ACT ONE

  SCENE ONE

  A room on the garden front of a very large country house in Derbyshire in April 1809. Nowadays, the house would be called a stately home. The upstage wall is mainly tall, shapely, uncurtained windows, one or more of which work as doors. Nothing much need be said or seen of the exterior beyond. We come to learn that the house stands in the typical English park of the time. Perhaps we see an indication of this, perhaps only light and air and sky.