oint has been well made and more so.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: We're on a boat. (<i>Pause.</i>) Dark, isn't it?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Not for night.
     <B>ROS</B>: No, not for <i>night.</i>
     <B>GUIL</B>: Dark for day.
     (<i>Pause.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Oh yes, it's dark for <i>day.</i>
     <B>GUIL</B>: We must have gone north, of course.
     <B>ROS</B>: Off course?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Land of the midnight sun, that is.
     <B>ROS</B>: Of course.
     (<i>Some sailor sounds.</i>)
     (<i>A lantern is lit upstage-in fact by</i> HAMLET.)
     (<i>The stage lightens disproportionately.</i>)
     (<i>Enough to see:</i>
     ROS <i>and</i> GUIL <i>sitting downstage.</i>)
     (<i>Vague shapes of rigging, etc., behind.</i>)
     I think it's getting light.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Not for night.
     <B>ROS</B>: This far north.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Unless we're off course.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>small pause</i>)<i>:</i> Of course.
     (<i>A better light-Lantern? Moon? ... Light.</i>)
     (<i>Revealing, among other things, three large  man-sized  casks  on deck,
upended,  with lids. Spaced but  in line. Behind  and above-a gaudy  striped
umbrella, on a pole stuck into the deck, tilted so that we do not see behind
it-one of those huge six-foot diameter jobs. Still dim upstage.</i>)
     (ROS <i>and</i> GUIL <i>still facing front.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Yes,  it's  lighter  than it was.  It'll be  night  soon. This far
north.  (<i>Dolefully.</i>) I suppose  we'll  have to  go  to  sleep. (<i>He yawns and
stretches.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>: Tired?
     <B>ROS</B>:  No.... I don't think I'd take to it. Sleep all night, can't see a
thing all day.... Those eskimos must have a quiet life.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Where?
     <B>ROS</B>: What?
     <B>GUIL</B>: I thought you - (<i>Relapses.</i>) I've lost all capacity for disbelief.
I'm not sure that I could even rise to a little gentle scepticism. (<i>Pause.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Well, shall we stretch our legs?
     <B>GUIL</B>: I don't feel like stretching my legs.
     <B>ROS</B>: I'll stretch them for you, if you like.
     <B>GUIL</B>: No.
     <B>ROS</B>:  We  could stretch each other's. That way  we  wouldn't have to go
anywhere.
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>pause</i>)<i>:</i> No, somebody might come in.
     <B>ROS</B>: In where?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Out here.
     <B>ROS</B>: In out here?
     <B>GUIL</B>: On deck.
     (ROS <i>considers the floor: slaps it.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Nice bit of planking, that.
     <B>GUIL</B>:  Yes,   I'm  very  fond  of  boats  myself.   I  like   the   way
they're-contained. You don't have to worry about which way to go, or whether
to go  at all-the question doesn't  arise, because  you're on a <i>boat,</i> aren't
you? Boats are safe areas in the game of tag ... the players will hold their
positions  until the music starts.... I think I'll spend most  of my life on
boats.
     <B>ROS</B>: Very healthy.
     (ROS <i>inhales with expectation, exhales with boredom.</i> GUIL <i>stands up and
looks over the audience.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>: One is free on a boat. For a time. Relatively.
     <B>ROS</B>: What's it like?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Rough.
     (ROS <i>joins him. They look out over the audience.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: I think I'm going to be sick.
     (GUIL <i>licks a finger, holds it up experimentally.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>: Other side, I think.
     (ROS <i>goes upstage: Ideally a sort of upper deck joined to the downstage
lower deck by short steps. The umbrella being on the  upper deck.</i> ROS <i>pauses
by the umbrella and looks behind it.</i>)
     (GUIL <i>meanwhile has been resuming his  own theme - looking out over the
audience -</i> )
     Free to move, speak, extemporise, and yet.  We have not been cut loose.
Our truancy is defined by one fixed star, and our drift represents  merely a
slight chance of angle to it: we may seize the moment, toss it  around while
the moment pass, a short dash here, an exploration there, but we are brought
round  full  circle to  face  again  the  single immutable fact  -  that we,
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, are taking Hamlet to England.
     (<i>By which time,</i>  ROS <i>has returned, tiptoeing with  great  import, teeth
clenched for secrecy, get to</i> GUIL<i>, points surreptitiously behind him - and a
tight whisper:</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: I say - <i>he's here</i>!
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>unsurprised</i>): What's he doing?
     <B>ROS</B>: Sleeping.
     <B>GUIL</B>: It's all right for him.
     <B>ROS</B>: What is?
     <B>GUIL</B>: He can sleep.
     <B>ROS</B>: It's all right for him.
     <B>GUIL</B>: He's got us now.
     <B>ROS</B>: He can sleep.
     <B>GUIL</B>: It's all done for him.
     <B>ROS</B>: He's got us.
     <B>GUIL</B>: And we've got nothing. (<i>A cry.</i>) All I ask is our common due!
     <B>ROS</B>: For those in peril of the sea...
     <B>GUIL</B>: Give us this day our daily cue.
     (<i>Beat, pause. Sit. Long pause.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>after shifting, looking around</i>): What now?
     <B>GUIL</B>: What do you mean?
     <B>ROS</B>: Well, nothing is happening.
     <B>GUIL</B>: We're on a boat.
     <B>ROS</B>: I'm aware of that.
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>angrily</i>): Then what do you expect?  (<i>Unhappily.</i>) We act on scraps
of  information... sifting  half-remembered  directions that we  can  hardly
separate from instinct.
     (ROS <i>puts a hand into his purse, then both hands behind his  back, then
holds his fists out.</i>)
     (GUIL <i>taps one fist.</i>)
     (ROS <i>opens it to show a coin.</i>)
     (<i>He gives it to</i> GUIL.)
     (<i>He puts his hand back into his purse. Then both hands behind his back,
then holds his fists out.</i>)
     (GUIL <i>taps one fist.</i>)
     (ROS <i>opens it to show a coin. He gives it to</i> GUIL.)
     (<i>Repeat.</i>)
     (<i>Repeat.</i>)
     (GUIL <i>getting tense. Desperate to lose.</i>)
     (<i>Repeat.</i>)
     (GUIL  <i>taps  a  hand,  changes  his  mind,  taps  the  other,  and</i>  ROS
<i>inadvertently reveals that he has a coin in both fists.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>: You had money in both hands.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>embarrassed</i>): Yes.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Every time?
     <B>ROS</B>: Yes.
     <B>GUIL</B>: What's the point of that?
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>pathetic</i>): I wanted to make you happy.
     (<i>Beat.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>: How much did he give you?
     <B>ROS</B>: Who?
     <B>GUIL</B>: The king. He gave us some money.
     <B>ROS</B>: How much did he give you?
     <B>GUIL</B>: I asked you first.
     <B>ROS</B>: I got the same as you.
     <B>GUIL</B>: He wouldn't discriminate between us.
     <B>ROS</B>: How much did you get?
     <B>GUIL</B>: The same.
     <B>ROS</B>: How do you know?
     <B>GUIL</B>: You just told me - how do <i>you</i> know?
     <B>ROS</B>: He wouldn't discriminate between us.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Even if he could.
     <B>ROS</B>: Which he never could.
     <B>GUIL</B>: He couldn't even be sure of mixing us up.
     <B>ROS</B>: Without mixing us up.
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>turning on him furiously</i>)<i>:</i> Why don't you  say something original!
No  wonder  the  whole  thing is  so  stagnant! You  don't  take  me  up  on
anything-you just repeat it in a different order.
     <B>ROS</B>: I can't think of anything original. I'm only good in support.
     <B>GUIL</B>: I'm sick of making the running.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>humbly</i>)<i>:</i> It must be your dominant personality.  (<i>Almost in tears.</i>)
Oh, what's going to become of us!
     (<i>And</i> GUIL <i>comforts him, all harshness gone.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>: Don't cry... it's all right... there... there, I'll see we're all
right.
     <B>ROS</B>: But we've got nothing to go on, we're out on our own.
     <B>GUIL</B>: We're on our way to England - we're taking Hamlet there.
     <B>ROS</B>: What for?
     <B>GUIL</B>: What for? Where have you been?
     <B>ROS</B>: When? (<i>Pause.</i>) We won't know what to do when we get there.
     <B>GUIL</B>: We take him to the king.
     <B>ROS</B>: Will <i>he</i> be there?
     <B>GUIL</B>: No - the king of England.
     <B>ROS</B>: He's expecting us?
     <B>GUIL</B>: No.
     <B>ROS</B>: He won't know what we're playing at. What are we going to <i>say?</i>
     <B>GUIL</B>: We've got a letter. You remember the letter.
     <B>ROS</B>: Do I?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Everything is explained in the letter. We count on that.
     <B>ROS</B>: Is that it, then?
     <B>GUIL</B>: What?
     <B>ROS</B>: We take Hamlet to the English king, we hand over the letter - what
then?
     <B>GUIL</B>: There may be something in the letter to keep us going a bit.
     <B>ROS</B>: And if not?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Then that's it-we're finished.
     <B>ROS</B>: At a loose end?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Yes.
     (<i>Pause.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Are there likely to  be  loose ends? (<i>Pause.</i>)  Who is  the English
King?
     <B>GUIL</B>: That depends on when we get there.
     <B>ROS</B>: What do you think it says?
     <B>GUIL</B>:  Oh...  greetings.  Expressions  of loyalty. Asking  of  favours,
calling  in  of  debts.  Obscure  promises  balanced  by  vague  threats....
Diplomacy. Regards to the family.
     <B>ROS</B>: And about Hamlet?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Oh <i>yes.</i>
     <B>ROS</B>: And us-the full background?
     <B>GUIL</B>: I should say so.
     (<i>Pause.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: So we've got a letter which explains everything.
     <B>GUIL</B>: You've got it.
     (ROS <i>takes that literally. He starts to pat his pockets, etc.</i>)
     What's the matter?
     <B>ROS</B>: The letter.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Have you got it?
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>rising fear</i>)<i>:</i> Have I? (<i>Searches  frantically.</i>) Where would I  have
put it?
     <B>GUIL</B>: You can't have lost it.
     <B>ROS</B>: I must have!
     <B>GUIL</B>: That's odd-I thought he gave it to me.
     (ROS <i>looks at him hopefully.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Perhaps he did.
     <B>GUIL</B>: But you seemed so sure it was you who hadn't got it.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>high</i>)<i>:</i> It <i>was</i> me who hadn't got it!
     <B>GUIL</B>: But if he gave it to me there's no reason why you should have had
it in the first place, in which case I don't see what all the fuss  is about
you <i>not</i> having it.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>pause</i>): I admit it's confusing.
     <B>GUIL</B>: This is all getting rather undisciplined... The boat,  the night,
the  sense of isolation  and uncertainty... all these induce a  loosening of
the  concentration. We must not lose control. Tighten up.  Now.  Either  you
have lost  the letter or  you didn't have it  to lose in the first place, in
which case the king never gave it to you, in which case he gave it to me, in
which  case I would  have  put it  into my inside  top pocket  in which case
(<i>calmly  producing  the letter</i>)... it  will be... here. (<i>They smile  at each
other.</i>) We mustn't drop off like that again.
     (<i>Pause.</i> ROS <i>takes the letter gently from him.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Now that we have found it, why were we looking for it?
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>thinks</i>)<i>:</i> We thought it was lost.
     <B>ROS</B>: Something else?
     <B>GUIL</B>: No.
     (<i>Deflation.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Now we've lost the tension.
     <B>GUIL</B>: What tension?
     <B>ROS</B>: What was the last thing I said before we wandered off?
     <B>GUIL</B>: When was that?
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>helplessly</i>)<i>:</i> I can't remember.
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>leaping up</i>)<i>:</i> What a shambles! We're just not getting anywhere.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>mournfully</i>)<i>:</i> Not even England. I don't believe in it anyway.
     <B>GUIL</B>: What?
     <B>ROS</B>: England.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Just a conspiracy of cartographers, you mean?
     <B>ROS</B>:  I mean I don't believe it! (<i>Calmer.</i>) I  have no image.  I  try to
picture us  arriving, a little  harbour perhaps... roads...  inhabitants  to
point the way... horses on the road... riding for a  day or  a fortnight and
then  a palace and  the English  king,... That  would be the logical kind of
thing... But my mind remains a blank. No. We're slipping off the map.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Yes... yes... (<i>Rallying.</i>)  But you don't believe anything till it
happens. And it <i>has</i> all happened. Hasn't it?
     <B>ROS</B>:  We drift down time, clutching at straws.  But what good's a brick
to a drowning man?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Don't give up, we can't be long now.
     <B>ROS</B>:  We might as  well be dead. Do you think death could possibly be a
boat?
     <B>GUIL</B>: No,  no, no... Death is... not. Death isn't. You take my meaning.
Death is the ultimate negative. Not-being. You can't not-be on a boat.
     <B>ROS</B>: I've frequently not been on boats.
     <B>GUIL</B>: No, no, no - what you've been is not on boats.
     <B>ROS</B>: I wish  I was  dead. (<i>Considers the drop.</i>)  I could jump over  the
side. That would put a spoke in their wheel.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Unless they're counting on it.
     <B>ROS</B>: I shall remain on board. That'll put a spoke in their wheel.
     (<i>The futility of  it,  fury.</i>)  All right! We don't  question, we  don't
doubt. We perform. But a line  must be drawn somewhere, and  I would like to
put it  on record that I have no confidence  in  England. Thank you. (<i>Thinks
about this.</i>) And even if it's true, it'll just be another shambles.
     <B>GUIL</B>: I don't see why.
     <B>ROS</B>  (<i>furious</i>)<i>:</i> He won't  know what we're  talking about -  What are we
going to <i>say</i>?
     <B>GUIL</B>: We say - Your majesty, we have arrived.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>kingly</i>): And who are you?
     <B>GUIL</B>: We are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>barks</i>): Never heard of you!
     <B>GUIL</B>: Well, we're nobody special -
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>regal and nasty</i>): What's your game?
     <B>GUIL</B>: We've got our instructions -
     <B>ROS</B>: First I've heard of it -
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>angrily</i>): Let me finish - (<i>Humble.</i>) We've come from Denmark,
     <B>ROS</B>: What do you want?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Nothing-we're delivering Hamlet -
     <B>ROS</B>: Who's he?
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>irritated</i>)<i>:</i> You've heard of <i>him</i>--
     <B>ROS</B>: Oh, I've heard of him all right and I want nothing to do with it.
     <B>GUIL</B>: But -
     <B>ROS</B>: You march in here without so much as a by your leave and expect me
to take every lunatic you try to pass off with a lot of unsubstantiated -
     <B>GUIL</B>: We've got a letter -
     (ROS <i>snatches it and tears it open.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>efficiently</i>)<i>:</i> I see... I see... well, this seems  to  support your
story such as it is - it is  an exact command from the king of Denmark,  for
several  different  reasons,  importing Denmark's health  and England's too,
that on  the  reading of this letter, without delay, I should have  Hamlet's
head cut off -!
     (GUIL <i>snatches the letter.</i> ROS,  <i>doubletaking,  snatches  it back,</i> GUIL
<i>snatches it halfback. They read it together, and separate.</i>)
     (<i>Pause.</i>)
     (<i>They are well downstage looking front.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: The sun's going down. It will be dark soon.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Do you think so?
     <B>ROS</B>: I was just making conversation. (<i>Pause.</i>) We're his <i>friends.</i>
     <B>GUIL</B>: How do you know?
     <B>ROS</B>: From our young days brought up with him.
     <B>GUIL</B>: You've only got their word for it.
     <B>ROS</B>: But that's what we depend on.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Well,  yes, and then  again  no. (<i>Airily.</i>) Let us  keep things in
proportion. Assume, if you like, that they're going to kill him. Well, he is
a man, he is  mortal, death comes to us all, etcetera,  and  consequently he
would  have died anyway, sooner or later. Or to look  at it from  the social
point of view-he's  just one man among  many,  the loss would be well within
reason  and convenience. And then again, what is so terrible about death? As
Socrates so philosophically put it, since we don't know what death is, it is
illogical  to fear it. It might be... very nice. Certainly it  is  a release
from the burden  of life, and, for the godly,  a haven  and a  reward. Or to
look at it another way - we are  little men,  we don't know the ins and outs
of the matter,  there  are  wheels within  wheels, etcetera  - it  would  be
presumptuous  of us to interfere with the designs of fate or even of  kings.
All in  all, I think  we'd be well advised to  leave well alone. Tie  up the
letter - there -  neatly -  like that -  They won't notice the  broken seal,
assuming you were in character.
     <B>ROS</B>: But what's the point?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Don't apply logic.
     <B>ROS</B>: He's done nothing to us.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Or justice.
     <B>ROS</B>: It's awful.
     <B>GUIL</B>: But it could  have been  worse. I was  beginning to think it was.
(<i>And his relief comes out in a laugh.</i>)
     (<i>Behind them</i>  HAMLET <i>appears  from behind the  umbrella.  The light has
been going. Slightly.</i> HAMLET <i>is going to the lantern.</i>)<i>t</i>
     <B>ROS</B>: The position as I see it, then. We,  Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
from our  young days  brought up with him, awakened by a man standing on his
saddle, are summoned, and arrive, and are instructed to glean what  afflicts
him and draw him on to pleasures, such as a play, which unfortunately, as it
turns out, is abandoned in some confusion  owing to certain  nuances outside
our appreciation  -  which,  among  other causes, results  in,  among  other
effects, a  high, not to say, homicidal, excitement  in Hamlet, whom we,  in
consequence, are escorting, for his own good, to England. Good. We're on top
of it now.
     (HAMLET <i>blows out the lantern. The stage goes pitch black.</i>)
     (<i>The Black resolves itself to moonlight, by which</i> HAMLET <i>approaches the
sleeping</i> ROS  <i>and</i>  GUIL.  <i>He  extracts the letter  and  takes  it behind his
umbrella; the tight of his lantern shines through the fabric,</i> HAMLET <i>emerges
again with a letter, and replaces it, and retires, blowing out his lantern.</i>)
     (<i>Morning comes.</i>)
     (ROS <i>watches it coming-from the auditorium. Behind him is  a gay sight.
Beneath the re-tilted umbrella, reclining  in a deckchair, wrapped in a rug,
reading a book, possibly smoking, sits</i> Hamlet.)
     (ROS <i>watches the morning come, and brighten to high noon.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: I'm assuming nothing. (<i>He  stands up.</i> <B>GUIL</B> <i>wakes.</i>) The position as
I see it, then.  That's  west unless we're  off course,  in which  case it's
night; the king gave me the  same as you, the  king gave you the same as me:
the king never gave me the letter, the king gave  you  the letter,  we don't
know what's in the  letter; we take Hamlet to the English king, it depending
on when we get  there who  he is,  and we hand over the letter, which may or
may not have something in  it to keep us going, and if  not, we are finished
and at  a loose end, if  they have  loose ends. We could  have done worse. I
don't think we missed any chance...  Not that we're  getting much help.  (<i>He
sits  down  again.  They  lie down  - prone.</i>) If  we stopped  breathing we'd
vanish.
     (<i>The muffled  sound of a  recorder.  They sit up  with disproportionate
interest.</i>) Here we go.
     Yes, but what?
     (<i>They listen to the music.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>  (<i>excitedly</i>)<i>:</i>  Out of the void, finally, a sound; while  on a boat
(admittedly)  outside  the  action  (admittedly)  the  perfect  and absolute
silence of the wet lazy slap of water against water and the rolling creak of
timber-breaks; giving rise at  once to  the speculation or the assumption or
the hope that  something is  about to happen;  a pipe is heard.  One  of the
sailors has pursed  his  lips  against  a woodwind,  his fingers  and  thumb
governing,  shall we say, the  ventages, whereupon, giving it breath, let us
say,  with  his  mouth,  it, the pipe, discourses, as the  saying goes, most
eloquent  music.  A  thing like that, it could change the  course of events.
(<i>Pause.</i>) Go and see what it is.
     <B>ROS</B>: It's someone playing on a pipe.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Go and find him.
     <B>ROS</B>: And then what?
     <B>GUIL</B>: I don't know - request a tune.
     <B>ROS</B>: What for?
     <B>GUIL</B>: Quick-before we lose our momentum.
     <B>ROS</B>: Why!-something is happening. It had quite escaped my attention!
     (<i>He listens:  Makes a stab at  an exit. Listens more carefully: Changes
direction:</i>)
     (<B>GUIL</B> <i>takes no notice.</i>)
     (<B>ROS</B> <i>wanders about trying to decide where the music comes from. Finally
he tracks it  down - unwillingly - to the middle barrel. There is no getting
away from  it. He turns to</i> GUIL  <i>who takes no notice.</i> ROS, <i>during this whole
business, never quite breaks into articulate speech. His face and  his hands
indicate his incredulity. He stands  gazing  at the middle barrel. The  pipe
plays on within. He kicks the  barrel. The pipe stops. He leaps back towards</i>
GUIL. <i>The pipe  starts up  again. He  approaches the  barrel cautiously.  He
lifts  the lid. The  music is louder.  He slams down the  lid. The  music is
softer. He goes back towards</i> GUIL.  <i>But a drum  starts, muffled. He freezes.
He  turns. Considers the left-hand barrel.  The drumming goes on within,  in
time to the  flute.  He  walks  back to</i> GUIL. <i>He  opens his mouth  to speak.
Doesn't make it. A lute  is heard. He spins round  at the third barrel. More
instruments join  in. Until  it is quite  inescapable that  inside the three
barrels, distributed, playing  together a familiar tune which has been heard
three times before, are the</i> TRAGEDIANS.)
     (<i>They play on.</i>)
     (ROS <i>sits beside</i> GUIL. <i>They stare ahead.</i>)
     (<i>The tune comes to an end.</i>)
     (<i>Pause.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: I  thought  I  heard  a band. (<i>In anguish.</i>)  Plausibility is all I
presume!
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>coda</i>)<i>:</i> Call us this day our daily tune....
     (<i>The  lid of the  middle barrel  flies  open and the</i> PLAYER's <i>head pops
out.</i>)
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Aha! All in the same boat, then! (<i>He climbs out. He  goes round
banging on the barrels.</i>)
     Everybody out!
     (<i>Impossibly,  the</i>  TRAGEDIANS  <i>climb  out of  the  barrels. With  their
instruments, but not their cart. A few bundles. Except</i> ALFRED. <i>The</i> PLAYER <i>is
cheerful.</i>)
     (<i>To</i> ROS.) Where are we?
     <B>ROS</B>: Travelling.
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Of course, we haven't got there yet.
     <B>ROS</B>: Are we all right for England?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: You look all right to me. I don't think they're very particular
in England. Al-I-fred!
     (ALFRED <i>emerges from the</i> PLAYER's <i>barrel.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>: What are you doing here?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Travelling. (<i>To</i> TRAGEDIANS.) Right-blend into the background!
     (<i>The</i> TRAGEDIANS  <i>are  in costume</i> (<i>from  the mime</i>)<i>: A  King  with crown,</i>
ALFRED <i>as Queen, Poisoner and the two Cloaked figures.</i>)
     (<i>They blend.</i>)
     (<i>To</i> <B>GUIL</B>.) Pleased to see us? (<i>Pause.</i>) You've come out of it very well,
so far.
     <B>GUIL</B>: And you?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: In disfavour. Our play offended the king.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Yes.
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Well, he's a second husband himself. Tactless, really.
     <B>ROS</B>: It was quite a good play nevertheless.
     <B>PLAYER</B>: We never really got going-it was getting quite interesting when
they stopped it.
     (<i>Looks up at</i> HAMLET.)
     That's the way to travel...
     <B>GUIL</B>: What were you doing in there?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Hiding. (<i>Indicating costumes.</i>) We had to run for it just  as we
were.
     <B>ROS</B>: Stowaways.
     <B>PLAYER</B>:  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?
     <B>ROS</B>: Is it?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: We learn something every day, to our cost. But we troupers just
go on and on. Do you know what happens to old actors?
     <B>ROS</B>: What?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Nothing. They're still acting. Surprised, then?
     <B>GUIL</B>: What?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Surprised to see us?
     <B>GUIL</B>: I knew it wasn't the end.
     <B>PLAYER</B>: With practically everyone on his feet. What do you  make of it,
so far?
     <B>GUIL</B>: We haven't got much to go on.
     <B>PLAYER</B>: You speak to him?
     <B>ROS</B>: It's possible.
     <B>GUIL</B>: But it wouldn't make any difference.
     <B>ROS</B>: But it's possible.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Pointless.
     <B>ROS</B>: It's allowed.
     <B>GUIL</B>:  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, without restriction.
     <B>ROS</B>: Within limits, of course.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Certainly within limits.
     (HAMLET <i>comes down to  footlights and regards the audience.  The others
watch but don't  speak.</i> HAMLET <i>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.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>:  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 mean he isn't. Very often, it does  not mean anything at all. Which may
or may not be a kind of madness.
     <B>GUIL</B>:  It  really  boils  down  to  symptoms. Pregnant  replies, mystic
allusions, mistaken identities, arguing  his father is 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.
     <B>ROS</B>: And talking to himself.
     <B>GUIL</B>: And talking to himself.
     (ROS <i>and</i> GUIL <i>move apart together.</i>)
     Well, where has that got us?
     <B>ROS</B>: He's the Player.
     <B>GUIL</B>: His play offended the king-
     <B>ROS</B>: -offended the king-
     <B>GUIL</B>: -who orders his arrest-
     <B>ROS</B>: -orders his arrest-
     <B>GUIL</B>: -so he escapes to England-
     <B>ROS</B>: On the boat to which he meets-
     <B>GUIL</B>: Guildenstern and Rosencrantz taking Hamlet-
     <B>ROS</B>: -who also offended the king-
     <B>GUIL</B>: -and killed Polonius-
     <B>ROS</B>: -offended the king in a variety of ways-
     <B>GUIL</B>: -to England. (<i>Pause.</i>) That seems to be it.
     (ROS <i>jumps up.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Incidents! All we  get is incidents!  Dear God,  is it too much to
expect a little sustained action?!
     (<i>And on the word, the</i> PIRATES <i>attack. That is to say:
     Noise and shouts and rushing about. "Pirates".</i>)
     (<i>Everyone  visible  goes  frantic.</i> HAMLET  <i>draws his  sword  and rushes
downstage.</i> GUIL,  ROS  <i>and</i> PLAYER <i>draw swords  and  rush upstage, collision.</i>
HAMLET <i>turns his back up.  They turn  back  down. Collision.  By  which time
there is general panic right upstage. All four charge upstage with</i> ROS, GUIL
<i>and</i> PLAYER <i>shouting:</i>
     At last!
     To arms!
     Pirates!
     Up there!
     Down there!
     To my sword's length!
     Action!
     (<i>All four reach  the top, see something they don't like, waver, run for
their lives downstage:</i>)
     (HAMLET, <i>in the lead, leaps into the left barrel.</i> PLAYER <i>leaps into the
right barrel.</i> ROS <i>and</i> GUIL <i>leap into the middle barrel. All closing the lids
after them.</i>)
     (<i>The  lights dim to nothing while the  sound of fighting continues. The
sound fades to nothing. The lights come up.</i>)
     (<i>The middle barrel</i> (ROS's <i>and</i> GUIL's) <i>is missing.</i>)
     (<i>The lid of the right-hand  barrel is  raised cautiously, the  heads of</i>
ROS <i>and</i> GUIL <i>appear.</i>)
     (<i>The lid of the  other barrel</i> (HAMLET's) <i>is  raised.  The head  of  the</i>
PLAYER <i>appears.</i>)
     (<i>All catch sight of each other and slam down lids.</i>)
     (<i>Pause.</i>)
     (<i>Lids raised cautiously.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>relief</i>)<i>:</i> They've gone.  (<i>He  starts to climb out.</i>) That was close.
I've never thought quicker.
     (<i>They  are all three  out of barrels.</i>  GUIL <i>is wary and nervous.</i> ROS <i>is
light-headed. The</i> PLAYER <i>is phlegmatic. They note the missing barrel.</i>)
     (ROS <i>look round.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Where's -?
     (<i>The</i> PLAYER <i>takes off his hat in mourning.</i>)
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Once more, alone-on our own resources.
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>worried</i>)<i>:</i> What do you mean? Where is he?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Gone.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Gone where?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Yes, we were dead lucky there. If that's the word I'm after.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>not a pick up</i>)<i>:</i> Dead?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Lucky.
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>he means</i>)<i>:</i> Is he dead?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Who knows?
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>rattled</i>)<i>:</i> He's not coming back?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Hardly.
     <B>ROS</B>: He's dead then. He's dead as far as we're concerned.
     <B>PLAYER</B>: Or we are as far as he  is. (<i>He goes and sits  on the floor  to
one side.</i>) Not too bad, is it?
     <B>GUIL</B>  (<i>rattled</i>)<i>:</i>  But he can't -  We're  supposed  to be - We've  got a
<i>letter-</i>We're going to England with a letter for the king -
     <B>PLAYER</B>:  Yes,  that  much  seems  certain. I  congratulate  you on  the
unambiguity of your situation.
     <B>GUIL</B>:  But  you  don't  understand  -  it  contains  -  we've  had  our
instructions - The whole thing's pointless without him.
     <B>PLAYER</B>:  Pirates could  happen to  anyone.  Just  deliver  the  letter.
They'll send ambassadors from England to explain...
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>worked up</i>): Can't see - the pirates left  us  home and high - dry
and home -drome- (<i>furiously</i>)<i>.</i> The pirates left us high and dry!
     <B>PLAYER</B> (<i>comforting</i>)<i>:</i> There...
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>near tears</i>): Nothing will be resolved without him...
     <B>PLAYER</B>: There... !
     <B>GUIL</B>: We need Hamlet for our release!
     <B>PLAYER</B>: There!
     <B>GUIL</B>: What are we supposed to do?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: This.
     (<i>He turns away, lies down if he likes.</i> ROS <i>and</i> GUIL <i>apart.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Saved again.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Saved for what?
     (ROS <i>sighs.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>:  The sun's going  down. (<i>Pause.</i>)  It'll be night soon. (<i>Pause.</i>) If
that's west. (<i>Pause.</i>) Unless we've -
     <B>GUIL</B>  (<i>shouts</i>)<i>:</i> Shut up! I'm sick of it!  Do  you think conversation is
going to help us now?
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>hurt, desperately ingratiating</i>)<i>:</i> I - I  bet you all the money I've
got the year of my birth doubled is an odd number.
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>moan</i>)<i>:</i> No-o.
     <B>ROS</B>: <i>Your</i> birth!
     (GUIL <i>smashes him down.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>  (<i>broken</i>)<i>:</i>  We've travelled too far,  and  our momentum has  taken
over; we move idly towards eternity, without possibility of reprieve or hope
of explanation.
     <B>ROS</B>: Be happy-If you're not even <i>happy</i> what's so  good about surviving?
(<i>He picks himself up.</i>) We'll be all right. I suppose we just go on.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Go where?
     <B>ROS</B>: To England.
     <B>GUIL</B>: England! <i>That's</i> a dead end. I never believed in it anyway.
     <B>ROS</B>: All we've got to do is make our report and that'll be that.
     Surely.
     <B>GUIL</B>: I don't <i>believe</i> 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 -( <i>furiously</i>)<i>.</i> I don't  believe
any of it!
     <B>ROS</B>: It doesn't sound very plausible.
     <B>GUIL</B>: And even if we came face to face, what do we say?
     <B>ROS</B>: We say - We've arrived!
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>kingly</i>)<i>:</i> And who are you?
     <B>ROS</B>: We are Guildenstern and Rosencrantz.
     <B>GUIL</B>: Which is which?
     <B>ROS</B>: Well, I'm - You're -
     <B>GUIL</B>: What's it all about? -
     <B>ROS</B>: Well, we were bringing Hamlet - but then some pirates -
     <B>GUIL</B>: 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
-
     <B>ROS</B> (<i>with letter</i>)<i>:</i> We have a letter -
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>snatches it,  opens  it</i>)<i>:</i>  A letter  - yes -  that's true. That's
something...  a   letter...  (<i>reads</i>)<i>.</i>  "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-"
     (<i>He double takes.</i>  ROS <i>snatches the letter.</i>  GUIL <i>snatches it back.</i> ROS
<i>snatches it halfback. They read it again and look up.</i>)
     (<i>The</i> PLAYER <i>gets to his feet and walks over to his barrel  and kicks it
and shouts into it.</i>)
     <B>PLAYER</B>: They've gone-It's all over!
     (<i>One by one the</i> players <i>emerge, impossibly, from the barrel, and form a
casually menacing  circle  round</i> ROS <i>and</i>  GUIL <i>who  are  still  appalled and
mesmerised.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>quietly</i>)<i>:</i> 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...
     <B>ROS</B>:  They  had it in for  us, didn't  they? Right from the  beginning.
Who'd have thought that we were so important?
     <B>GUIL</B>:  But  why? Was it all  for this?  Who are we that so much  should
converge on our little deaths? (<i>In anguish to the</i> PLAYER.) Who are <i>we</i>?
     <B>PLAYER</B>: You are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. That's enough.
     <B>GUIL</B>: No - it is not  enough. To be told  so  little - to such an end -
and still, finally, to be denied an explanation...
     <B>PLAYER</B>: In our experience, most things end in death.
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>fear, vengeance, scorn</i>)<i>:</i> Your experience?-<i>Actors!</i>
     (<i>He snatches a dagger from the</i> PLAYER's <i>belt and holds the point at the</i>
PLAYER's <i>throat: the</i> PLAYER <i>backs and</i> GUIL <i>advances, speaking more quietly.</i>)
     I'm talking  about death-and you've  never experienced  <i>that.</i>  And  you
cannot <i>act</i> 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 in a different hat. But no one gets
up  after  <i>death-</i>there  is  no  applause-there  is  only  silence  and  some
second-hand clothes, and that's - <i>death</i> -
     (<i>And he pushes  the blade in  up  to the  hilt. The</i> PLAYER <i>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:</i>)
     (<i>While he is dying,</i> GUIL, <i>nervous, high, almost hysterical,  wheels  on
the</i> 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 -
     (<i>The</i> TRAGEDIANS <i>watch the</i> PLAYER  <i>die:  they watch  with some interest.
The</i>  PLAYER  <i>finally  lies  still.  A  short  moment  of  silence.  Then the</i>
tragedians <i>start  to applaud with genuine  admiration. The</i> PLAYER <i>stands up,
brushing himself down.</i>)
     <B>PLAYER</B>  (<i>modestly</i>)<i>:</i> Oh, come, come, gentlemen -  no flattery  - it  was
merely competent-
     (<i>The</i>  tragedians <i>are  stilt congratulating  him. The</i> PLAYER  <i>approaches</i>
GUIL, <i>who stands rooted, holding the dagger.</i>)
     What did you think? (<i>Pause.</i>) You see, it <i>is</i> the kind they do believe in
- it's what is expected.
     (<i>He holds his hand out  for  the dagger.</i> GUIL <i>slowly puts the  point of
the dagger on to  the</i>  PLAYER's <i>hand, and pushes</i>  ... <i>the  blade slides back
into the handle. The</i> PLAYER <i>smiles, reclaims the dagger.</i>)
     For a moment you thought I'd - cheated.
     (ROS <i>relieves his own tension with loud nervy laughter.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: Oh, very good!  <i>Very</i> good! Took me in completely  - didn't he take
you in completely-(<i>claps his hands.</i>) Encore! Encore!
     <B>PLAYER</B> (<i>activated,  arms spread, the professional</i>)<i>:</i> Deaths for all ages
and  occasions!  Deaths  by suspension,  convulsion, consumption,  incision,
execution, asphyxiation and malnutrition-! Climatic carnage, by  poison  and
by steel-! Double deaths by duel-! Show!
     (ALFRED, <i>still in his queen's costume, dies by poison: the</i> PLAYER, <i>with
rapier, kills the "</i>KING" <i>and duels with a fourth</i>  TRAGEDIAN,  <i>inflicting and
receiving a wound: the two  remaining</i> tragedians, <i>the two "</i>SPIES" <i>dressed in
the same coats as</i> ROS <i>and</i> GUIL, <i>are stabbed, as before.</i>)
     (<i>And the  light  is  fading  over  the  deaths which  take  place right
upstage.</i>)
     (<i>Dying  amid the dying-tragically; romantically.</i>) 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...
     <B>GUIL</B> (<i>tired,  drained, but stilt an edge of impatience; over the mime</i>)<i>:</i>
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...
     (<i>The  light has  gone upstage. Only</i> GUIL <i>and</i> ROS <i>are visible  as</i> ROS's;
<i>clapping falters to silence.</i>)
     (<i>Small pause.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>: That's it, then, is it?
     (<i>No answer, he looks out front.</i>)
     The  sun's  going  down. Or  the earth's coming up,  as the fashionable
theory has it.
     (<i>Small pause.</i>) Not that it makes any difference.
     (<i>Pause.</i>)
     What was it all about? When did it begin?
     (<i>Pause, no answer.</i>)
     Couldn't we just stay put? I mean no one is going  to come on and  drag
us off.... They Ml just have to wait. We're still young ... fit... we've got
years...
     (<i>Pause. No answer.</i>)
     (<i>A cry.</i>) We've nothing wrong! We didn't harm anyone. Did we?
     <B>GUIL</B>: I can't remember.
     (ROS <i>pulls himself together.</i>)
     <B>ROS</B>:  All  right, then. I  don't care. I've had enough. To tell you the
truth, I'm relieved.
     (<i>And he disappears from view.</i>)
     (<B>GUIL</B> <i>does not notice.</i>)
     <B>GUIL</B>: Our  names  shouted  in  a certain  dawn  ...  a  message  ...  a
summons... there must have been  a moment,  at the beginning, where we could
have said-no. But somehow we missed it.
     (<i>He looks round and sees he is alone.</i>)
     Rosen--?
     Guil--?
     (<i>He gathers himself.</i>)
     Well, we'll know better next time. Now you see me, now you -
     (<i>And disappears.</i>)
     (<i>Immediately the whole stage is lit up, revealing, upstage, arranged in
the approximate positions last  held by the dead</i>  TRAGEDIANS<i>, the tableau of
court and corpses which is the last scene of "</i>Hamlet<i>".</i>)
     (<i>That  is: The</i> KING, QUEEN, LAERTES  <i>and</i> HAMLET <i>all dead.</i> HORATIO <i>holds</i>
HAMLET<i>.</i> FORTINBRAS <i>is there.</i>)
     (<i>So are two</i> AMBASSADORS <i>from England.</i>)
     <B>AMBASSADORS</