HAMLET
What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?
HAMLET: Compounded it with dust, whereto is kin.
ROS: Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence and bear it to the chapel.
HAMLET: Do not believe it.
ROS: Believe what?
HAMLET: That I can keep your counsel and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the son of a king?
ROS: Take you me for a sponge, my lord?
HAMLET: Ay, sir, that soaks up the King's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the King best service in the end. He keeps them, like an ape, in the comer of his jaw, first mouthed, to be last swallowed. When he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you and, sponge, you shall be dry again.
ROS: I understand you not, my lord.
HAMLET: I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish car.
ROS: My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to the King.
HAMLET: The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. The King is a thing GUIL: A thing, my lord-?
HAMLET: Of nothing. Bring me to him.
HAMLET
HAMLET
CLAUDIUS
CLAUDIUS: How now? What hath befallen?
ROS: Where the body is bestowed, my lord, we cannot get from him.
CLAUDIUS: But where is he?
ROS (
CLAUDIUS (
ROS: Ho! Bring in the lord.
ROS (
GUIL (
ROS: It was a trying episode while it lasted, but they've done with us now.
GUIL: Done what?
ROS: I don't pretend to have understood. Frankly, I'm not very interested. If they won't tell us, that's their affair. (
ROS: Talking.
GUIL: To himself?
ROS
Is he alone?
ROS: NO, he's with a soldier.
GUIL: Then he's not talking to himself, is he?
ROS: Not by himself Should we go?
GUIL: Where?
ROS: Anywhere.
GUIL: Why?
ROS
ROS: There it is again. (
GUIL: (
HAMLET
ROS: They'll have us hanging about till we're dead. At least. And the weather will change.
(
HAMLET: Good sir, whose powers are these?
SOLDIER: They are of Norway, sir.
HAMLET: How purposed, sir, I pray you?
SOLDIER: Against some part of Poland
HAMLET: Who commands them, sir?
SOLDIER: The nephew to old Norway! Fortinbras.
ROS: We'll be cold. The summer won't last.
GUIL: It's autumnal.
ROS (
GUIL: Autumnal-nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day... Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it... Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses... deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth-reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. At such times, perhaps, coincidentally, the leaves might fall, somewhere, by repute. Yesterday was blue, like smoke.
ROS (
HAMLET: I humbly thank you, sir.
SOLDIER: God by you, sir. (
ROS
ROS: Will it please you go, my lord?
HAMLET: I'll be with you straight. Go you a little before.
HAMLET
GUIL: Is he there?