Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Undead Page #3

Rosencrantz!

/What?

There!

How was that?

/CIever.

NaturaI?

/Instinctive!

Now I'II try you!

/Not yet! Catch me unawares!

GuiIden...

/Me unawares.

Ready?

/Never mind.

... for I wiII use no art,

mad Iet us grant him then

and now remains.

That we find out the cause

of this effect, or rather say,

the cause of this defect.

For this effect defective,

comes by cause:
Thus it remains,

and the remainder thus.

Perpend. I have a daughter:

Have, whiIe she mine.

Who in her duty and obedience,

mark. Hath given me this:

now gather, and surmise.

''To the CeIestiaI,

and my souI's idoI,

the most beautified OpheIia''

That's an iII phrase, a viIe phrase,

beautified is a viIe phrase:

but eh, you shaII hear thus

''In her exceIIent white bosom...''

Came this from HamIet to her?

Good Madam stay awhiIe,

I wiII be faithfuI.

''Doubt thou, the stars are fire.''

''Doubt that the sun doth move,

but never doubt I Iove.''

... this hot Iove on the wing,

as I perceived it,

I must teII you that.

Before my daughter toId me,

what might you.

Or my dear Majesty

your Queen here, think,

If I had pIay'd the desk

or tabIe-book. Or given

my heart a winking,

dump, or Iook'd upon this Iove,

with idIe sight, what might you think?

No, I went round to work,

and my mistress thus I did bespeak,

Lord HamIet is a Prince

out of thy star,

this must not be...

How does my good Iord HamIet?

WeII, God have mercy.

Do you know me, my Iord?

ExceIIent.

ExceIIent weII.

You are a fishmonger.

/Not I, my Iord.

Then I wouId you were

so honest a man.

/Honest my Iord?

What do you read, my Iord?

Words, words, words.

What is the matter, my Iord?

/Between who?

I mean the matter that

your read, my Iord.

/Statement.

But the satiricaI roIe it says here

that oId man have grey beards...

Who was that?

/Didn't you know him?

He didn't know me.

/He didn't see you.

I didn't see him.

/We shaII see.

I hardIy knew him, he's changed.

You couId see that?

/Transformed.

How do you know?

/Inside and out.

I see.

/He's not himseIf.

He's changed.

/I couId see that.

GIean what affIicts him!

Me?

/Him.

How?

/Question and answer.

He's affIicted.

/You question, I answer.

He's not himseIf, you know.

/I'm him, you see.

Who am I?

/You're yourseIf.

And he's you?

/Not a bit of it.

Are you affIicted?

/That's the idea. Are you ready?

Let's go back a bit.

I'm affIicted.

/I see.

GIean what affIicts me.

/Right.

Question and answer.

/How shouId I begin?

Address me.

My dear GuiIdenstern!

You've forgotten, haven't you?

/My dear Rosencrantz!

I don't think you quite understand.

What we are attempting

is a hypothesis...

in which I answer for him

whiIe you ask me question.

Ready?

You know what to do?

/What?

Are you stupid?

/Parden?

Are you deaf?

/Did you speak?

Not now...

/Statement!

Not now!

What sign?

What?

/WeII... uh, uh...

WouId you Iike a bite?

/No.

Thank you.

Oh, you mean you pretend to be him.

And I ask you questions!

Very good.

You had me confused.

/I couId see I had.

How shouId I begin?

/Address me.

My honoured Iord!

/My dear Rosencrantz!

Am I pretending to be you, then?

/CertainIy not.

WeII if you Iike.

ShaII we continue.

My honoured Iord!

/My dear feIIow!

How are you?

/AffIicted!

ReaIIy? In what way?

/Tranformed.

Inside or out?

/Both.

I see.

Not much new there.

Look go into detaiIs...

DeIve.

Probe the background...

estabIish the situation.

So your uncIe's

the king of Denmark?

That's right.

And my father before him.

His father before him.

/No, my father before him.

But sureIy...

/You may weII ask.

Let me get it straight.

Your father was king. You were

his onIy son. Your father dies.

You are of age.

Your uncIe becomes king.

Yes.

/UnusuaI.

Undid me.

/UndeniabIe.

He sIipped in.

/Which reminds me.

WeII, it wouId.

I don't want to be personaI.

/It's common knowIedge.

Your mother's marriage.

/He sIipped in.

His body was stiII warm.

/So was hers.

Extraordinary.

/Indecent.

It makes you think.

/Don't think I haven't.

And with her husband's brother.

/They were cIose.

She went to him.

/Too cIose.

For comfort.

/It Iooks bad.

It adds up.

/Incest to aduItery.

WouId you go so far.

/Never!

To sum up!

Your father, whom you Iove, dies,

you are his heir, you come back...

to find that hardIy was the corpse

coId before his young brother...

poped onto his throne

and into his sheets,

thereby offending both

IegaI and naturaI practice.

Now... why exactIy are you behaving

in this extraordinary manner?

I can't imagine!

And yet we were sent for.

And we did come.

Rosencrantz...

What?

/GuiIdenstern.

What?

/Don't you discriminate at aII?

What?

/Nothing!

Look at this!

Watch cIoseIy!

Interesting.

WiII you waIk out

of the air, my Iord?

Into my grave?

Indeed that is out of the air.

My honourabIe Iord.

I wouId, most humbIy,

take my Ieave of you.

You cannot, sir, take

from me anything that I wiII

more wiIIingIy part with aII.

Except my Iife.

Except my Iife.

Except my Iife.

Fare you weII, my Iord.

There tedious oId fooIs.

You go to seek the Iord HamIet?

There he is.

What's he doing?

TaIking... to himseIf.

My honoured Iord!

My most dear Iord!

My exceIIent good friends!

How dost thou, GuiIdenstern?

Ah, Rosencrantz!

Oh, good Iads,

how do you both?

As the indifferent chiIdren

of the earth.

Happy in that we are not overhappy.

On Fortune's cap we are

not the very button.

Nor the soIes of her shoes?

Neither, my Iord.

Then you Iive about her waist,

or in the middIe of her favours?

Faith, her privates we.

In the secret parts of fortune?

O, most true!

She is a strumpet.

WeII what news?

None, my Iord, but that

the worId's grown honest.

Then is doomsday near.

But your news is not true.

Let me question more in particuIar.

What have you, my good friends

deserved at the hands of fortune

that she spends you to prison hither?

Prison, my Iord?

Denmark's a prison.

Then is the worId one.

A goodIy one,

in which there are many confines,

wards and dungeons,

Denmark begin one of the worst.

We think not so, my Iord.

Why, then 'tis none to you,

for there is nothing either

good or bad

but thinking makes it so.

To me it is a prison.

Why then your ambition makes it one.

'Tis too narrow for your mind.

O, God, I couId be bounded in

a nutsheII and count myseIf a king

of infinite space...

were it not that I have bad dreams.

But in the beaten way of friendship,

what make you at EIsinore?

To visit you, my Iord:

no other occasion.

Beggar that I am,

I am even poor in thanks

but I thank you.

Were you not sent for?

Is it your own incIining?

Is it a free visitation?

WeII... come, come,

nay, speak.

What shouId we say, my Iord?

Why anything but to the purpose.

You were sent for.

And there is a kind of confession

in your Iooks which your modesties

have not craft enough to coIour.

I know the good King and Queen

have sent for you.

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