Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead (12 page)

ROS
: He
said
we can go. Cross my heart

GUIL
: I like to know where I am. Even if I don't know where I am, I like to know
that
. If we go there's no knowing.

ROS: NO
knowing what?

GUIL
: If well ever come back.

ROS
: We don't want to come back.

GUIL
: That may very well be true, but do we want to go?

ROS
: Well be free.

GUIL
: I don't know. It's the same sky.
ROS
: We've come this far.

He moves towards exit
,
GUIL
follows him
.

And besides, anything could happen yet

They go
.

BLACKOUT

Opens in pitch darkness
.

Soft sea sounds
.

After several seconds of nothing, a voice from the dark . .
.

GUIL
: Arc you there?

ROS
: Where?

GUIL
(bitterly)
: A flying start. . . .

Pause
.

ROS
: Is that you?

GUIL
: Yes.

ROS
: How do you know?

GUIL
(explosion):
Oh-for-God's-sake!

ROS
: We're not finished, then?

GUIL
: Well, we're here, aren't we?

ROS
: Are we? I can't see a thing.

GUIL
: You can still
think
, can't you?

ROS
: I think so.

GUIL: YOU
can still
talk
.

ROS
: What should I say?

GUIL
: Don't bother. You can
feel
, can't you?

ROS
: Ah! There's life in me yet!

GUIL
: What are you feeling?

ROS
: A leg. Yes, it feels like my leg.

GUIL: HOW
does it feel?

ROS
: Dead.

GUIL
: Dead?

ROS
(panic):
I can't feel a thing!

GUIL:
Give it a pinch!
(Immediately he yelps.)

ROS
: Sorry.

GUIL
: Well, that's cleared that up.

Longer pause: the sound builds a little and identifies itself— the sea. Ship timbers, wind in the rigging, and then shouts of sailors calling obscure but inescapably nautical instructions from all directions, far and near: A short list:

Hard a larboard!
Let go the stays!
Reef down me hearties!
Is that you, cox'n?
Hel-llo! Is that you?
Hard a port!
Easy as she goes!
Keep her steady on the lee!
Haul away, lads!
(Snatches of sea shanty maybe.)
Fly the jib!
Tops'l up, me maties!

When the point has been well made and more so
.

ROS
: We're on a boat.
(Pause.)
Dark, isn't it?

GUIL
: Not for night.

ROS:
No, not for
night
.

GUIL
: Dark for day.

Pause
.

ROS:
Oh yes, it's dark for
day
.

GUIL
: We must have gone north, of course.

ROS
: Off course?

GUIL
: Land of the midnight sun, that is.

ROS
: Of course.

Some sailor sounds
.

A lantern is lit upstage—In fact by
HAMLET.

The stage lightens disproportionately—

Enough to see:

ROS
and
GUIL
sitting downstage
.

Vague shapes of rigging, etc., behind
.

I think it's getting light

GUIL
: Not for night

ROS
: This far north.

GUIL
: Unless we're off course.

ROS
(small pause):
Of course.

A better light—Lantern? Moon? . . . Light. 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
,
ROS
and
GUIL
still facing front
.

ROS
: Yes, it's lighter than it was. It'll be night soon. This far north.
(Dolefully.)
I suppose we'll have to go to sleep.
(He yawns and stretches.)

GUIL
: Tired?

ROS
: 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.

GUIL
: Where?

ROS
: What?

GUIL
: I thought you——
(Relapses.)
I've lost all capacity for disbelief. I'm not sure that I could even rise to a little gentle scepticism.

Pause
.

ROS
: Well, shall we stretch our legs?

GUIL
: I don't feel like stretching my legs.

ROS:
I'll stretch them for you, if you like.

GUIL
: No.

ROS
: We could stretch each other's. That way we wouldn't have to go anywhere.

GUIL
(pause)
: No, somebody might come in.

ROS
: In where?

GUIL
: Out here.

ROS
: In out here?

GUIL
: On deck.

ROS
considers the floor: slaps it
.

ROS
: Nice bit of planking, that.

GUIL
: 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
boat
, 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.

ROS:
Very healthy.

ROS
inhales with expectation, exhales with boredom
,
GUIL
stands up and looks over the audience
.

GUIL
: One is free on a boat. For a time. Relatively.

ROS
: What's it like?

GUIL
: Rough.

ROS
joins him. They look out over the audience
.

ROS
: I think I'm going to be sick.

GUIL
licks a finger, holds it up experimentally
.

GUIL
: Other side, I think.

ROS
goes upstage: Ideally a sort of upper deck joined to thedownstage lower deck by short steps. The umbrella beingon the upper deck
,
ROS
pauses by the umbrella and looksbehind it
.
GUIL
meanwhile has been resuming his own theme—looking out over the audience
——

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 change of angle to it: we may seize the moment, toss it around while the moments 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, bearing a letter from one king to another, are taking Hamlet to England.

By which time
,
ROS
has returned, tiptoeing with great import, teeth clenched for secrecy, gets to
GUIL
,
points surreptitiously behind him—and a tight whisper:

ROS
: I say—
he's there!

GUIL
(unsurprised)
: What's he doing?

ROS
: Sleeping.

GUIL
: It's all right for him.

ROS
: What is?

GUIL
: He can sleep.

ROS
: It's all right for him.

GUIL
: He's got us now.

ROS
: He can sleep.

GUIL
: It's all done for him.

ROS
: He's got us.

GUIL
: And we've got nothing.
(A cry.)
All I ask is our common due!

ROS
: For those in peril on the sea. . . .

GUIL
: Give us this day our daily cue.

Beat, pause. Sit. Long pause
.

ROS
(after shifting, looking around):
What now?

GUIL
: What do you mean?

ROS
: Well, nothing is happening.

GUIL
: We're on a boat.

ROS
: I'm aware of that.

GUIL
(angrily):
Then what do you expect?
(Unhappily.)
We act on scraps of information . . . sifting half-remembered directions that we can hardly separate from instinct.

ROS
puts a hand into his purse, then both hands behind his back, then holds his fists out
.

GUIL
taps one fist
.

ROS
opens it to show a coin
.

He gives it to
GUIL.

He puts his hand back into his purse. Then both hands behind his back, then holds his fists out
.

GUIL
taps one
.

ROS
opens it to show a coin. He gives it to
GUIL.

Repeat
.

Repeat
.

GUIL
getting tense. Desperate to lose
.

Repeat
.

GUIL
taps a hand, changes his mind, taps the other, and
ROS
inadvertently reveals that he has a coin in both fists
.

GUIL: YOU
had money in both hands.

ROS
(embarrassed):
Yes.

GUIL
: Every time?

ROS
: Yes.

GUIL
: What's the point of that?

ROS
(pathetic)
: I wanted to make you happy.

Beat
.

GUIL: HOW
much did he give you?

ROS
: Who?

GUIL
: The King. He gave us some money.

ROS
: How much did he give you?

GUIL
: I asked you first.

ROS
: I got the same as you.

GUIL
: He wouldn't discriminate between us.

ROS
: How much did you get?

GUIL
: The same.

ROS: HOW
do you know?

GUIL
: You just told me—how do
you
know?

ROS
: He wouldn't discriminate between us.

GUIL
: Even if he could.

ROS
: Which he never could.

GUIL
: He couldn't even be sure of mixing us up.

ROS
: Without mixing us up.

GUIL
(turning on him furiously)
: 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.

ROS
: I can't think of anything original. I'm only good in support

GUIL
: I'm sick of making the running.

ROS
(humbly)
: It must be your dominant personality.
(Almost in tears.)
Oh, what's going to become of us!

And
GUIL
comforts him, all harshness gone
.

GUIL
: Don't cry. . . it's all right. . . there. . . there, I'll see we're all right.

ROS
: But we've got nothing to go on, we're out on our own.

GUIL
: We're on our way to England—we're taking Hamlet there.

ROS
: What for?

GUIL
: What for? Where have you been?

ROS
: When?
(Pause.)
We won't know what to do when we get there.

GUIL
: We take him to the King.

ROS
: Will
he
be there?

GUIL: NO
—the king of England.

ROS
: He's expecting us?

GUIL
: No.

ROS
: He won't know what we're playing at. What are we going to
say
?

GUIL
: We've got a letter. You remember the letter.

ROS
: Do I?

GUIL
: Everything is explained in the letter. We count on that.

ROS
: Is that it, then?

GUIL
: What?

ROS
: We take Hamlet to the English king, we hand over the letter—what then?

GUIL
: There may be something in the letter to keep us going a bit.