ROS: I can't remember… What have we got to go on?

GUIL: We have been briefed. Hamlet's transformation. What do you recollect?

ROS: Well, he's changed, hasn't he? The exterior and inward man fails to resemble

GUIL: Draw him on to pleasures-glean what afflicts him.

ROS: Something more than his father's death

GUIL: He's always talking about us-there aren't two people living whom he dotes on more than us.

ROS: We cheer him up-find out what's the matter

GUIL: Exactly, it's a matter of asking the right questions and giving away as little as we can. It's a game.

ROS: And then we can go?

GUIL: And receive such thanks as fits a king's remembrance.

ROS: I like the sound of that. What do you think he means by remembrance?

GUIL: He doesn't forget his friends.

ROS: Would you care to estimate?

GUIL: Difficult to say, really-some kings tend to be amnesiac, others I suppose-the opposite, whatever that is…

ROS: Yes-but– Elephantine… ?

ROS: Not how long-how much?

GUIL: Retentive-he's a very retentive king, a royal retainer..

ROS: What are you playing at?

GUIL: Words, words. They're all we have to go on.

Pause.

ROS: Shouldn't we be doing something-constructive?

GUIL: What did you have in mind?… A short, blunt human pyramid… ?

ROS: We could go.

GUIL: Where?

ROS: After him.

GUIL: Why? They've got us placed now-if we start moving around, we'll all be chasing each other all night.

Hiatus.

ROS (at footlights) : How very intriguing! (Turns.) I feel like a spectator-an appalling business. The only thing that makes it bearable is the irrational belief that somebody interesting will come on in a minute…

GUIL: See anyone?

ROS: No. You?

GUIL: No. (At footlights.) What a fine persecution-to be kept intrigued without ever quite being enlightened… (Pause.) We've had no practice.

ROS: We could Play at questions.

GUIL: What good would that do?

ROS: Practice!

GUIL: Statement! one-love.

ROS: Cheating!

GUIL: How?

ROS: I hadn't started yet.

GUIL: Statement. Two-love

ROS: Are you counting that?

GUIL: What?

ROS: Are you counting that?

GUIL: Foul! No repetitions Three-love First game to…

ROS: I'm not going to play if you're going to be like that.

GUIL: Whose serve?

ROS: Hah?

GUIL: Foul! No grunts. Love-one.

ROS: Whose go?

GUIL: Why?

ROS: Why not?

GUIL: What for?

ROS. Foul! No synonyms! One-all.

GUIL: What in God's name is going on?

ROS: Foul! No rhetoric. Two-one.

GUIL: What does it all add up to?

ROS: Can't you guess?

GUIL: Were You addressing me?

ROS: Is there anyone else?

GUIL: Who?

ROS How Would I know?

GUIL: Why do you ask?

ROS: Are you serious?

GUIL: Was that rhetoric?

ROS: No.

GUIL: Statement! Two-all. Game point.

ROS: What's the matter with you today?

GUIL: When?

ROS: What?

GUIL: Are you deaf?

ROS: Am I dead?

GUIL: Yes or no

ROS: Is there a choice?

GUIL: Is there a God?

ROS: Foul! No non sequiturs,

GUIL: (seriously) : What's your name?

ROS: What's yours?

GUIL: I asked you first.

ROS: Statement. One-love.

GUIL: What's your name when you're at home?

ROS: What's yours?

GUIL: When I'm at home?

ROS: Is it different at home?

GUIL: What home?

ROS: Haven't you got one?

GUIL: Why do you ask?

ROS: What are you driving at?

GUIL (with emphasis) : What's your name?!

ROS: Repetition. Two-love. Match point to me.

GUIL (seizing him violently) : WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

ROS: Rhetoric! Game and match! (Pause.) Where's it going to end?

GUIL: That's the question.

ROS: It's all questions.

GUIL: Do you think it matters?

ROS: Doesn't it matter to you?

GUIL: Why should it matter?

ROS: What does it matter why?

GUIL (teasing gently) : Doesn't it matter why it matters?

ROS (rounding on him) : What's the matter with you?

Pause.

GUIL: It doesn't matter.

ROS (voice in the wilderness) :… What's the game?

GUIL: What are the rules?

Enter HAMLET behind, crossing the stage, reading a book-as he is about to disappear GUIL notices him.

GUIL (sharply) : Rosencrantz!

ROS (jumps) : What!

HAMLET goes. Triumph dawns on them, they smile.

GUIL: There! How was that?

ROS: Clever!

GUIL: Natural?

ROS: Instinctive.

GUIL: Got it in your head?

ROS: I take my hat off to you.

GUIL: Shake hands.

They do.

ROS: Now I'll try you-GUIL-!

GUIL: –Not yet-catch me unawares.

ROS: Right.

They separate. Pause. Aside to GUIL.

Ready?

GUIL (explodes) : Don't be stupid.

ROS: Sorry.

Pause.

GUIL (snaps) : Guildenstern!

ROS (jumps) : What?

He is immediately crestfallen, GUIL is disgusted.

GUIL: Consistency is all I ask!

ROS (quietly) : Immortality is all I seek…

GUIL (dying fall) : Give us this day our daily week…

Beat.

ROS: Who was that?

GUIL: Didn't you know him?

ROS: He didn't know me.

GUIL: He didn't see you.

ROS: I didn't see him.

GUIL: We shall see. I hardly knew him, he's changed.

ROS: You could see that?

GUIL: Transformed.

ROS: How do you know?

GUIL: Inside and out.

ROS: I see.

GUIL: He's not himself.

ROS: He's changed.

GUIL: I could see that.

Beat.

Glean what afflicts him.

ROS: Me?

GUIL: Him.

ROS: How?

GUIL: Question and answer. Old ways are the best ways.

ROS: He's afflicted.

GUIL: You question, I'll answer.

ROS: He's not himself, you know.

GUIL: I'm him, you see.

Beat.

ROS: Who am I then?

GUIL: You're yourself.

ROS: And he's you?

GUIL: Not a bit of it.

ROS: Are you afflicted?

GUIL: That's the idea. Are you ready?

ROS: Let's go back a bit.

GUIL: I'm afflicted.

ROS: I see.

GUIL: Glean what afflicts me.

ROS: Right.

GUIL: Question and answer.

ROS: How should I begin?

GUIL: Address me.

ROS: My dear Guildenstern!

GUIL: (quietly) : You've forgotten-haven't you?

ROS: My dear Rosencrantz!

GUIL: (great control) : I don't think you quite understand. we are attempting is a hypothesis in which I answer him, while you ask me questions.

ROS: Ah! Ready?

GUIL: You know what to do?

ROS: What?

GUIL: Are you stupid?

ROS: Pardon?

GUIL: Are you deaf?

ROS: Did you speak?

GUIL (admonishing) : Not now-

ROS: Statement.

GUIL (shouts) : Not now! (Pause.) If I had any doubts, or rather hopes, they are dispelled. What could we possibly have in common except our situation? (They separate and sit.) Perhaps he'll come back this way.

ROS: Should we go?

GUIL: Why?

Pause.

ROS (starts up. Snaps fingers) : Oh! You mean-you pretend to be him, and I ask you questions!

GUIL (dry) : Very good.

ROS: You had me confused.

GUIL: I could see I had.

ROS: How should I begin?

GUIL: Address me. They stand and face each other, posing.

ROS: My honoured Lord!

GUIL: My dear Rosencrantz!

Pause.

ROS: Am I pretending to be you, then?

GUIL: Certainly not. If you like. Shall we continue?

ROS: Question and answer.

GUIL: Right.

ROS: Right. My honoured lord!