ROS: Is that all they can do-die?
PLAYER: No, no-they kill beautifully. In fact some of them Id even better than they die. The rest die better than they They're a team.
ROS: Which ones are which?
PLAYER: There's not much in it.
GUIL (tear, derision) : Actors! The mechanics of cheap melodrama! That isn't death! (More quietly.) You scream and choke and sink to your knees, but it doesn't bring ~ home to anyone-it doesn't catch them unawares and start the whisper in their skulls that says-"One day you are going to die." (He straightens up.) You die so many times; how can you expect them to believe in your death?
PLAYER: On the contrary, it's the only kind they do believe. They're conditioned to it. I had an actor once who was condemned to hang for stealing a sheep– –or a lamb, I forget which-so I got permission to have him hanged in the middle of a play-had to change the plot a bit but I thought it would be effective, you know-and you wouldn't believe it, he just wasn't convincing! It was impossible to suspend one's disbelief-and what with the audience jeering and throwing peanuts, the whole thing was a disaster!-he did nothing but cry all the time-right out of character-just stood there and cried… Never again.
In good burnout he has already turned back to the mime: the two SPIES awaiting execution at the hands of the PLAYER, who takes his dagger out of his belt.
Audiences know what to expect, and that is all that they are prepared to believe in. (To the SPIES:) Show!
The SPIES die at some length, rather well. The light has begun to go, and it fades as they die, and as GUIL speaks.
GUIL: No, no, no… you've got it all wrong… you can't act death. The fact of it is nothing to do with seeing it happen –it's not gasps and blood and falling about-that isn't what makes it death. It's just a man failing to reappear, that's all –now you see him, now you don't, that the only thing that's reaclass="underline" here one minute and gone the next and never coming back-an exit, unobtrusive and unannounced, a disappearance gathering weight as it goes on, until, finally, it is heavy with death.
The two SPIES lie still, barely visible. The PLAYER Comes forward and throws the SPIES' cloaks over their bodies. ROS starts to clap, slowly. BLACKOUT. A second of silence, then much noise. Shouts. "The King rises!-… "Give o'er the play!" and cries for "Lights lights, lightsl" When the light comes, after a few seconds, it comes a sunrise. The stage is empty save for two cloaked figures sprawl, the ground in the approximate positions last held by the dead SPIES. As the light grows, they are seen to be ROS and GUIL and to be resting quite comfortably. ROS raises himself elbows and shades his eyes as he stares into the audience. Finally:
ROS: That must be cast, then. I think we can assume that
GUIL: I'm assuming nothing.
ROS: No, it's all right. That the sun. East.
GUIL (looks up) : Where?
ROS: I watched it come up.
GUIL: No… it was light all the time, you see, and you a your eyes very, very slowly. If you'd been facing back there you'd be swearing that was east.
ROS (standing up) : You're a mass of prejudice.
GUIL: I've been taken in before.
ROS (looks out over the audience) : Rings a bell.
GUIL: They're waiting to see what were going to do.
ROS: Good old east
GUIL: As soon as we make a move they'll come pouring every side, shouting obscure instructions, confusing ridiculous remarks, messing us about from here to breakfast and getting our names wrong.
ROS starts to protest but he has hardly opened his mouth before:
CLAUDIUS (off stage-with urgency) : Ho, Guildenstern!
GUIL is still prone. Small pause.
ROS AND GUIL: You're wanted…
GUIL furiously leaps to his feet as CLAUDIUS and GERTRUDE enter. They are in some desperation.
CLAUDIUS: Friends both, go join you with some further aid: Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, and from his mother's closet hath he dragged him. Go seek him out; speak fair and bring the body into the chapel. I pray you haste in this. (As he and GERTRUDE are hurrying out.) Come Gertrude, well call up our wisest friends and lot them know both what we mean to do…
They've gone. ROS and GUIL remain quite still.
GUIL: Well…
ROS: Quite.
GUIL: Well, then.
ROS: Quite, quite. (Nods with spurious confidence.) Seek him out. (Pause.) Etcetera.
GUIL: Quite.
ROS: Well. (Small pause.) Well, that's a step in the right direction.
GUIL: You didn't like him?
ROS: Who?
GUIL: Good God, I hope more tears are shed for us!
ROS: Well, it's progress, isn't it? Something positive. Seek him out. (Looks round without moving his feet.) Where does one begin… ? (Takes one step towards the wings and halts.)
GUIL: Well, that's a step in the right direction.
ROS: You think so? He could be anywhere.
GUIL: All right-you go that way, I'll go this way.
ROS: Right.
They walk towards opposite wings. ROShalts.
N o.
GUILhalts.
You go this way-I'll go that way.
GUIL: All right.
They march towards each other, cross. ROS halts.
ROS: Wait a minute.
GUILhalts.
I think we should stick together. He might be violent.
GUIL: Good point. I'll come with you.
GUIL marches across to ROS . They turn to leave. ROS halts.
ROS: No, I’ll come with you.
GUIL: Right.
They turn, march across to the opposite wing. ROS halls. GUIL halts.
ROS: I'll come with you, my way.
GUIL: All right.
They turn again and march across. ROS halts. GUIL halts.
ROS: I've just thought. If we both go, he could come here. That would be stupid, wouldn't it?
GUIL: All right-I'll stay, you go.
ROS: Right.
GUILmarches to midstage.
I say.
GUIL wheels and carries on marching back towards ROS , who starts marching downstage. They cross. ROShalts.
I've just thought.
GUILhalts.
We ought to stick together; he might be violent.
GUIL: Good point.
GUIL marches down to join ROS. They stand still for a moment in their original positions.
Well, at last we're getting somewhere.
Pause.
Of course, he might not come.
ROS (airily) : Oh, he'll come.
GUIL: We'd have some explaining to do.
ROS: He'll come. (Airily wanders upstage.) Don't worry-take my word for it- (Looks out-is appalled.) He's coming!
GUIL: What's he doing?
ROS: Walking.
GUIL: Alone?
ROS: No.
GUIL: Not walking?
ROS: No.
GUIL: Who's with him?
ROS: The old man.
GUIL: Walking?
ROS: No.
GUIL: Ah. That's an opening if ever there was one. (And is suddenly galvanized into action.) Let him walk into the trap!
ROS: What trap?
GUIL: You stand there! Don't let him pass!
He positions ROS with his back to one wing, facing HAMLET 's entrance. GUIL positions himself next to ROS , a few feet away they are covering one side of the stage, facing the opposite side. GUIL unfastens his belt. ROS does the same. They join the two belts, and hold them taut between them. it trousers slide slowly down. HAMLET enters opposite, slowly, dragging POLONIUS 's body. He enters upstage, makes a small arc and leaves by side, a few feet downstage. ROS and GUIL , holding the belts taut, stare at him in some bewilderment. HAMLET leaves, dragging the body. They relax the the belts.