GUIL: More morose than mad, perhaps.
PLAYER: Melancholy.
GUIL: Moody.
ROS: He has moods.
PLAYER: Of moroseness?
GUIL: Madness. And yet.
ROS: Quite.
GUIL: For instance.
ROS: He talks to himself, which might be madness.
GUIL: If he didn't talk sense, which he does.
ROS: Which suggests the opposite.
PLAYER: Of what?
Small pause.
GUIL: I think I have it. A man talking sense to himself is no madder than a man talking nonsense not to himself.
ROS: Or just as mad.
GUIL: Or just as mad.
ROS: And he does both.
GUIL: So there you are.
ROS: Stark raving sane.
Pause.
PLAYER: Why?
GUIL: Ah. (TO ROS :) Why?
ROS: Exactly.
GUIL: Exactly what?
ROS: Exactly why.
GUIL: Exactly why what?
ROS: What?
GUIL: Why?
ROS: Why what, exactly?
GUIL: Why is he mad?!
ROS: I don't know!
Beat.
PLAYER: The old man thinks he's in love with his daughter.
ROS (appalled) : Good God! We're out of our depth here.
PLAYER: No, no, no-he hasn't got a daughter-the old man thinks he's in love with his daughter.
ROS: The old man is?
PLAYER: Hamlet, in love with the old man's daughter, the old man thinks.
ROS: Ha! It's beginning to make sense! Unrequited passion!
The PLAYER moves.
GUIL: (Fascist.) Nobody leaves this room! (Pause, lamely.) Without a very good reason.
PLAYER: Why not?
GUIL: All this strolling about is getting too arbitrary by half-I'm rapidly losing my grip. From now on reason will prevail.
PLAYER: I have lines to learn.
GUIL: Pass!
The PLAYER passes into one of the wings. ROS cups his hands and shouts into the opposite one.
ROS: Next! But no one comes.
GUIL: What did you expect?
ROS: Something… someone… nothing. They sit facing front. Are you hungry?
GUIL: No, are you?
ROS (thinks) : No. You remember that coin?
GUIL: No.
GUIL: What coin?
ROS: I don't remember exactly.
Pause.
GUIL: Oh, that coin… clever.
ROS: I can't remember how I did it.
GUIL: It probably comes natural to you.
ROS: Yes, I've got a show-stopper there.
GUIL: Do it again.
Slight pause.
ROS: We can't afford it.
GUIL: Yes, one must think of the future.
ROS: It's the normal thing.
GUIL: To have one. One is, after all, having it all the time now… and now… and now..
ROS: It could go on for ever. Well, not for ever, I suppose. (Pause.) Do you ever think of yourself as actually dead, lying in a box with a lid on it?
GUIL: No.
ROS: Nor do I, really… It's silly to be depressed by it. I mean one thinks of it like being alive in a box, one keeps forgetting to take into account the fact that one is dead… which should make all the difference… shouldn't it? I mean, you'd never know you were in a box, would you? It would be just like being asleep in a box. Not that I'd like to sleep in a box, mind you, not without any air– –you'd wake up dead, for a start, and then where would you be? Apart from inside a box. That's the bit I don't like, frankly. That's why I don't think of it..
GUILstirs 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.