"—Thing that Happened—"
a play in one act
A nondescript location. Two individuals, ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN (referred to as ROS and GUIL, respectively, hereafter), lean back against a wall.
They are dressed in the manner of their namesakes.
ROS’s expression bespeaks optimistic anticipation; GUIL’s, the other kind.
ROS: How long now?
GUIL: I don't know. We'll be sent for, remember?
ROS: Oh, right, right.
FAN (clutching an autograph book): Excuse me, um, could I get your autographs?
ROS: Of course!
ROS and GUIL take the book, sign their names, and then hand it back.
FAN (reading): “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern?” No, ah, I wanted you to sign your names.
ROS: Oh, I'm sorry, did I sign “Guildenstern”?
GUIL (handing the FAN a white card): No, I think I know what she wants.
FAN (reading): “The leads in this year's production of Tom Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead are presently immersed in a new, experimental breed of method acting. They are contractually prohibited from breaking character until the end of the show's run.”
The FAN attempts to hand the card back.
GUIL: Keep it. (He reveals a few more from his pocket.) I have more.
FAN: So you can't...
GUIL (mock confusion): Can't what?
Long pause. The FAN fidgets awkwardly.
FAN: Well, break a leg.
The FAN walks away.
ROS: She looked very disappointed.
GUIL: Well, she wasn't exactly expecting us, was she?
ROS: Who?
GUIL: That woman.
ROS: No, I meant—
GUIL: Oh, of course, I meant Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
ROS: Right.
GUIL: Us.
ROS: Right.
Pause.
ROS: How long now?
GUIL: I told you, we'll be sent for.
ROS: But when?
GUIL: It doesn't really matter; we'll be sent for all the same.
Long pause. GUIL grows increasingly thoughtful. Suddenly, hope flashes across his
face.
GUIL: Suppose we left.
ROS (confusion): Help me.
GUIL: Suppose we chose a direction—
ROS: Left?
GUIL: Yes, left, for example, and walked a ways in that direction, and kept walking until we found ourselves somewhere very different from where we are now.
ROS: Where?
GUIL: Somewhere very different. Not here.
ROS: Hmm... I suppose you can't send for people you can't find.
GUIL: You seem to have grasped the idea.
ROS: I see. So you're at ease then with death? With suicide?
GUIL: I think you're giving my statement much too cosmic an interpretation. You can find "somewhere very different" quite easily on this plane of existence.
ROS: My question stands. An
unwatched’s pot doesn’t boil. Without a livelihood, you’re left with the
alternative.
GUIL: Wherever we are, someone will send for us, and someone will find us. You remember how
that woman came up to us.
ROS: I remember how she left.
GUIL: The point: We don’t need this. (He spreads out his arms.) We can go wherever we want. We're us.
ROS: Who?
GUIL: Us.
ROS: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern?
GUIL: You know what I mean.
ROS: Supposing you're right—
GUIL: I am.
ROS: —what reason is there to leave? Here our future is certain.
GUIL: Aye, there's the rub.
GUIL pulls a coin from his pocket.
GUIL: Call it.
ROS: Heads, of course.
GUIL spins the coin, letting it fall. It clatters and bounces, eventually spinning to a stop on its edge. Both men stare down at it, ROS nonplussed, GUIL non-nonplussed.
ROS: Again.
GUIL: As you wish.
Again.
GUIL: So now you see. If I stay here,
I’ll be sent for. If I’m sent for, I’ll be made to do the impossible. Here my
future is death.
ROS: Come now, that was only twice.
GUIL: And yet you haven't asked to see it again.
ROS: Whatever trick you pulled, you'd just pull it again.
GUIL: Come now, you know me better than that. I’ll have you know that, before showing you, I made that same coin flip
eighty-six times. Nothing changes the outcome.
ROS: If there’s no trick, what’s your explanation? If you’re so concerned, why don’t you see the, ah… He clears his throat and flashes a white card.
GUIL: If I had an explanation, you wouldn’t have asked that question. The situation provoking it would never have arisen.
ROS: If you had an explanation, you could withhold it all you wished.
GUIL (an exasperated shout): Then I suppose you’ll have to take me on my word!
GUIL grabs ROS by the shoulders.
GUIL: Listen, dear Guildenstern—
ROS: Rosencrantz.
GUIL: —just listen, for time is short. Every passing second carries a greater chance of being the one in which we’re found. In that second, my fate is sealed, and yours too, I fear. There is some malign force imposing itself upon us. Our only chance is to leave. Follow me, Rosencrantz; follow me or die.
ROS stands and strokes his chin, while GUIL paces and wrings his hands.
GUIL (pointing stage right, offstage): I see them! Run!
ROS jumps, startled, as GUIL breaks into a sprint, headed stage left. When he nears the edge of the stage, a lighting rig falls and crushes the pair. Blood pools. The coin rolls out of GUIL’s limp hand, slowing to a stop on its edge.
BLACKOUT