Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead Page #3

from occasion you may glean

whether aught to us

unknown afflicts him thus

that opened lies within our remedy.

Good...

Gentleman, he hath much

talked of you,

and sure I am, two men

there are not living

to whom he more adheres.

If it will please you

to show us so much gentry

and good will

as to extend your time

with us awhile for the supply

and profit of our hope,

your visitation shall

receive such thanks

as fits a king's remembrance.

Both your majesties might

by the sovereign power

you have of us,

put your dread pleasures

more into command

than to entreaty.

But we both obey,

and here give up ourselves

in the full bent

to lay our service freely

at your feet, to be commanded.

Thanks, Rosencrantz...

and gentle Guildenstern.

Thanks Guildenstern

and gentle Rosencrantz.

And I beseech you instantly to visit

my too much changed son.

Heaven make our presence

and our practises pleasant

and helpful to him!

Ah, amen!

I want to go home.

Don't let them confuse you.

We're in over our steps,

heading out of depth.

stepping out of the heads,

so heading to that step.

Stop there!

Hasn't it ever happened to you

that all of a sudden

and for no reason at all

you haven't the faintest idea

how to spell the word...

which or "house"...

because when you write it down

you just can't remember ever

having seen those letters

in that order before?

I remember...

What?

I remember when there were

no questions.

There were always questions.

Answers, yes.

There were answers to everything.

You've forgotten.

I haven't forgotten.

How I used to remember my own

name! And yours, Oh, yes!

There were answers

everywhere you looked.

There was no question about it--

people knew who we were

and if they didn't they asked

and we told them out names.

We did the trouble is,

each of them is plausible,

without being instinctive.

Instinctive?

All your life you live so close

to truth, it becomes a permanent

blur in the corner of your eye,

and when something nudges it into

outline it is like being ambushed

by a grotesque.

A man standing in his saddle

in the half-lit, half-alive dawn

banged in the shutters

and called two names.

And when he called we came.

That much is certain, we came.

Well, I can tell you

I'm sick to death of it.

I don't care which one I am.

So why don't you

make up your mind.

We didn't come all this way

for a christening. But we have been

comparatively fortunate.

We might have been left

to sift the whole field...

of human nomen-clauture

like two blind men... looting

a bazaar for heir own portraits

at least we are presented

with alternatives.

Well, as from now my name is...

But not choice.

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