Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead Page #4
- PG
- Year:
- 1990
- 117 min
- 1,904 Views
Ah... I will tell you why.
I know he finds it striking
too short at grief...
His antique sword the bearer
to his arms lies where it falls,
repugnant to command.
I have of late,
but wherefore I know not,
lost all my mirth, foregone
all custom of exercises,
and indeed, it goes so heavily
with my dispositions...
that this goodly frame, the earth,
seems to me a sterile promontory:
this most excellent canopy,
the air, look you, this brave
o'er hanging firmament...
this majestical roof
fretted with golden fire,
Why,
it appeareth nothing to me
but a foul and pestilent
congregation of vapours.
What a piece of
work is a man,
How noble in reason,
how infinite in faculties,
in form and moving
how express and admirable,
in action how like an angel,
in apprehension how like a god:
the beauty of the world,
the paragon of animals,
and yet to me,
what is this quint essence of dust?
Man delights not me...
nor woman neither though by your
smiling you seem to say so.
My lord, there was
no such stuff in my thoughts.
Why did ye laugh then,
when I said "Man delights not me"?
To think, my lord,
if you delight not in man...
what Lenten entertainment
the players shall receive from you.
We coted them on the way:
and hither are they coming
to offer you service.
Eh, he that plays
the king shall be welcome.
Gentleman, you are welcome to
Elsinore. Your hands, come then.
You are welcome.
But my uncle-father
and aunt-mother are deceived.
In what, my dear lord?
I am but mad north-northwest.
when the wind is southerly
I know a hawk from a handsaw.
Well be with you, gentleman.
Hark you... Guildenstern...
And eh you too, at each ear a hearer.
that great baby you see there is not
yet out of his swaddling clouts.
I will prophesy he comes
to tell me of the players.
My lord, I have news to tell you.
Eh my lord,
I have news to tell you.
When Roscius was
an actor in Rome.
The actors are come hither,
my lord.
Buzz, buzz.
Upon my honour--
Then came each actor on his ass.
The best actors in the world,
either for tragedy, comedy...
history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,
historical-pastoral,
tragical-historical.
I thought you...
No.
I say... look at this!
I think we can say
we made some progress.
You think so?
I think we can say that.
I think we can say
he made us look ridiculous.
We played it close
to the chest of course.
Question and answer!
He was scoring off us
all down the line.
He caught us on the wrong foot once
or twice, perhaps, but I think
we gained some ground.
He murdered us.
He might have had the edge.
Twenty-seven-three, and you think
he might have had the edge?
He murdered us.
What about our evasions?
Oh, our evasions were lovely.
You were sent for? He says.
"My lord, we were sent for."
I didn't know where to put myself.
He had six rhetoricals-
It was question and answer alright.
And two repetitions.
Twenty-seven questions he got out
and answered three. I was waiting
for you to delve.
When is he going to start delving,
I asked myself.
We got his symptoms, didn't we?
Half of what he said meant
something else, and the other
half didn't mean anything at all.
Thwarted ambition a sense
of grievance, that's my diagnosis.
Six rhetorical and two repetition,
leaving nineteen of which
we answered fifteen.
And what did we get in return?
He's depressed!
Denmark's a prison and he'd
rather live in a nutshell.
Some shadow play about the nature of
ambition and finally one direct
question which might've led somewhere
and led in fact to his illuminating
claim to tell a hawk for a handbag.
Handsaw.
Handsaw.
When the wind is southerly.
And the weather's clear.
And when it isn't he can't.
He's at the mercy
of the elements.
Is that southerly?
We came from roughly south.
Which way is that?
In the morning the sun would be
easterly. I think we can assume that.
That it's morning?
If it is, and the sun is over there,
for instance,
that would be northerly.
On the other hand,
if it is not morning
and the sun is over there.
that would still be northerly.
To put it another way,
if we came from down there,
and it's morning, the sun
would be up there...
but if is actually, over there,
and it's still morning,
we must have come from back
there and if that is southerly,
and the sun is really over there...
then it's the afternoon.
However, if none of these
is the case.
Why don't you go and have a look?
Pragmatism!
Is that all you have to offer?
I merely suggest
the position of the sun...
if it is out, would give
you a rough idea of the time.
Alternatively, the clock,
if it is going,
would give you a rough idea
of the position of the sun.
I forget which you are
trying to establish.
I am trying to establish
the direction of the wind.
There isn't any wind.
Draught, yes.
Repugnant to command, unequal
match'd Pyrrhus at Priam drives,
in rage strikes wide.
but with the whiff
and wind of his fell sword,
Then senseless llium,
seeming to feel his blow,
with flaming top. Stoops to his base,
and with a hideous crash.
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear.
For lo, his sword...
Of reverend Priam,
seem'd I the air to stick...
Mind the bottom of...
the step.
Sorry.
Aroused vengeance sets
him new a-word,
and never did the Cyclops'
hammers fall on Mars his armours,
forg'd for proof eterne,
with less remorse than
Pyrrhus bleeding sword. Priam.
Out... out thou
strumpet Fortune,
all you gods, in general
Synod take away her power,
break all the spokes
and fellies from her wheel,
and bowl the round nave down
the hill of Heaven, as low as
to the fiends.
This is too long.
It shall to the barber's,
with your beard.
Prithee say on:
he's for a speech,or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps.
Say on, come to Hecuba.
But who, O who, had
seen the mobled Queen...
The mobled Queen?
That's good, mobled Queen is good.
This is interesting.
'Tis well.
I'll have thee speak
out the rest of this soon.
Good, my lord, will you see
the players well bestowed?
Do you hear?
Let them be well used, for
they are the abstract and
brief chronicles of the time.
After your death you were better
have a bad epitaph than their
My lord, I will use them
according to their desert.
God's bodkin, man, much better!
Use every man after his desert,
and who shall scape whipping?
Use them after your own
honour and dignity.
The less they deserve,
the more merit is in your bounty.
Take them in.
Come sirs.
Follow him, friends:
we'll hear a play tomorrow.
Can you play the
"Murder of Gonzago"?
Ay, my lord.
We'll have it tomorrow night.
You could for a need study a speech
of some 12 or 16 lines which I would
set down and insert in it.
Follow that lord and
look you mock him not.
My good friends,
I'll leave you till night.
You are welcome in Elsinore.
Good, my lord.
So you've caught up.
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