Laertes- a play in verse.

LAERTES

or

 HAMLET, WITHOUT THE PRINCE,

Stage is hung with a network of narrow, vertical, black drapes which allow actors to appear and disappear quickly from any point on the stage.

There is a network of floor level spotlighting which is activated with the lifting of a particular drape.

Costume- for the most part, authentic medieval T-shirts with each character’s name brightly emblazoned upon the front & the historically correct (no matter howsoever politically incorrect) motto of their respective guild (e.g. ‘gravediggers do it with spades’) on the back.

Dark stage. Spotlight on ghost as he comes into view.

Ghost:-                                  Hamlet, son, if be thou near

                                               Hamlet, son, hie thee here

                                       Thy Sire, Hamlet, who’s now but grist

                                             To Hamlet’s Mill, bids thee list.

(At the mention of Hamlet’s Mill there is a roar- as of the sea)

Ah, Hamlet’s Mill now grinds my bones

I who bestrode 2 Baltic thrones

&, a Norse Colossus, held the North in fee

Now, in Hamlet’s Mill, re-salt the Sea.

(Second spot-light showing three sentries, asleep on their feet, propping each other up with their spears.)

Ah, Hamlet, son, ‘twas once my boast

My bare whisper woke the Varangian coast

Yet walk I abroad- now a wittering ghost

So sound sleeps sentry at his post!

First sentry (waking up)- Oi! I heard that! Who says I was asleep? Oi! You there, show yourself! What’s your game, sneaking up on a feller like that? Trying to get me in bother with the sergeant were you? Well I know a trick worth two o’ that! Come forward and show yourself!

Ghost -                        Soldier, ’twas your conscience spoke

                                    Whispering “Duty!” till you woke

                                    As for me, my voice has faded

                                    Or say this World’s ear has grown jaded

                                    To Honour’s call, which is just as well

                                    Else, dozy sentry, you’d sentry Hell!

Second sentry- (peering at the ghost) ‘Ere! I know you don’t I? Leastways there’s something right familiar about your face.

Ghost-                         ’Tis this absolute dark makes me visible

                                    & from Death’s Night, part divisible

                                    Even so might thou vouch me, Silence,

                                    As much voice as doth Death no violence.

Third sentry- ’Ere! What do you mean by going on as if we couldn’t hear what you’re saying? We ain’t deaf, I’ll have you know. Now, you’d better just come clean and explain yourself or I am going to have to poke you in the ribs with this ’ere spear!

Ghost-                         Sentry, you think it fun to shake your spear

                                    But I am the web woven of all you fear

                                    Snag upon me and you snag upon one

                           Would swallow the wolf would swallow the Sun

First Sentry - What did he say?

Sentry 2 – something about swallowing the Sun

Sentry 3-  We’re dreaming is all. Or that yon’s a ghost.

Sentry 1- We don’t get paid enough to sentry ghosts.

Sentry 2- Quite right. Actually, we don’t get paid enough to sentry the living.

Sentry 3- Budget cuts. Denmark’s at peace.

Sentry 1- Aye, and aint it rotten? Now, the old king had a stomach for war.

Ghost-   Had? I had? Nay say I have a greater stomach for it now

& Were Hamlet at my side, Hamlet would show me how

To raise up Death against who but dutifully deal it

& unleash Fear on who but fitfully feel it

& Revenge me redly on the race I led

Whose vaunted arms could not keep from my head

The base scythe of Death the skeleton

Publish it in Gath, in Askelon tell it in!

Sentry1-   You know the ghost has a good line in chat

Sentyry2- You think? That last rhyme fell rather flat.

Sentry 3- What I want to know is, who’s this Hamlet bloke?

Ghost-                  Heard you the words I from Hades spoke?

(Sentry 3 nods)

Ghost-                         Brave Hamlet’s my son, sweet Gertrude’s child

Who, like widow’d Denmark, is betimes beguiled

By Artful Peace which calls it orison

In the ears’ porch to pour its poison

& Whom to Vengeance my ghostly voice

Would wake & work him till all Hades rejoice

& Death’s citadel which the living besiege

Open its gates to a unanimous liege

Sentry 1- Gertrude’s barren. Always has been

Sentry 2- No Hamlet hereabouts has been heard or seen

Ghost- No Hamlet? Have I no son?

Sentry 1- none

Sentry 2           nor daughters

Ghost-                                     A curse upon Lethe waters!

                        I’m a gibbering ghost upon Night’s Stygian shore

Only a blood libation can my memory restore

Sentry1- Well, I’ve a bit of black pudding

Ghost- That will have to do. Ah! now I feed I see its true, no son I sired upon my Queen, as for my ravings- what could they mean? (munching) Tho’, mark you, ’twas all Gertrude’s fault, there was nothing wrong with my pole vault. In my courtiers’ cradles I’ve bestowed, byblows sure by the ox cart load, yet a canny son however yclept, I remember not tho’ the name Hamlet, suggests the trickster who in fighting pose, our Danish dead, propped up to scare our English foes, who fleetly fled! But hold my lucid spell draws to a close, so I’ll bid farewell for Hamlet’s Mill must grind my bones, I who bestrode 2 Nordic thrones etc.  (sound effect as of the waves crashing)

Sentry 1- don’t be a stranger.

Sentry 2- Missing you already

Sentry 3- I’m confused. What just happened?

Sentry1- Same thing happens every night

Sentry 2- except for the black pud.

Sentry 1- well yeah- but apart from that

Sentry 2- But that’s just my point. It was the first time old ghosty bollocks had an insight. I think we’re finally getting some real closure here.

Sentry 1- yeah, well, wha’ever

Sentry 3- Listen guys, I’m still confused. I mean what just happened? Does old ghosty bollocks have a son or doesn’t he?

Sentry 2 – Doesn’t

Sentry 1. Does too. He said so himself- “I’ve left plenty of byblows in the cradles of my courtiers.”

Sentry 2-Well he would say that wouldn’t he?

Sentry1- No, see here- he’s on this revenge kick right? I mean he wants one of those sons of his…

Sentry 2- or daughters- he never specified the sex of his byblows- let’s all just keep a lid on the Gender Chauvinism shall we?

Sentry 1- Well a son would be a more logical choice for his purpose- vengeance on widowed Denmark’s too peaceful ways

Sentry 3 (waking up) Gays? Did someone say Gays? As in Gays in the military?

Sentry 1 and 2 exchange looks-

Sentry 1- Yeah. Gays in the military. That’s what this is about.

Sentry3- O.K. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Back to snoozy by byes. This time I get the soft shoulder.

(They fall asleep on each other’s shoulders.)

Spotlight picks out Polonius who has been eavesdropping and follows him to where he encounters richly accoutred Laertes.

Polonius.-       Strange, at this hour, to see the battlements paced

By one all curled & crimped & puffed & laced

What mad French fad affects he now?

Laertes, son, whither goest thou?

Laertes-           Why father is it you? you have a ghostly tread

     I’m overdressed its true, but then I haven’t yet been to bed

        For tonight, at dinner, my lady dropped her scarf

And I fancied I felt- but promise you won’t laugh-

As if Selene, her veil, had to this end let fall

That her Endymion, I, her neck so enthral…

Polonius-   I’m sorry, my lad, your sonnet to wreck

              But Selene, you know, hasn’t a neck

Laertes- In Provence, father, a neck is assumed

Else on a Lunar simile I’d never presumed

Polonius- Ye Gods, for this I sent him to Paris!

Laertes- Tho’ Paris, Fair is, its manners are made mock at the courts of Languedoc, which being dear, I very much fear, I’m terribly in hock, but Dad you’re my rock!

Polonius- Oi! Not so fast my gallant young buck

Tho’ as a matter of fact, your old Dad’s had some luck

& aspire you to something just a little bit higher

Than being a Frenchified flunkey

Or I-talianiate monkey

Be guided by your sire!

Laertes- i’faith, Father, whatever can you mean?

Tho’ in courtly ways, I yet am green

Nothing lowly or base have I yet desired

Rather to that High Place ever aspired

Which Lancelot held for Guinevere

& Tristran for his Iseult dear

Polonius- Well spoken lad & with a Princely air

Not the French polish, the poplar’s fair

None but King’s sons can cuckold Kings

Which neatly me to the matter brings

What say you Laertes to being Royal?

The dead king’s eldest & me a loyal

Joseph, as ’twere, to your sainted mother

To whom indeed I’ll yet prove brother

Advanced at Court by your natural father

So you’d be near him, or say rather

Granted the Great Seal to guard your claim

Which untimely revealed had scotched the fair name

Of Gertrude who, tho’ of the old High King’s race

While your mother lived, had but bigamous embrace

Nor, for the Church, was the matter mended

After your poor mother’s life untimely ended

A story I with a corrupt Cardinal contrived

So Claudius could take an incestuous bride!

Laertes- Stop! What foulness is this assails my ears?

Avaunt thee demon! who in such shape appears

As to seem my own father- peerless of peers

Venerable Polonius- so rich in years

& each richer yet in works and days

Than what the Calendar of Saints itself displays

Thou art foiled, foul fiend, for naught daunts or dismays

By her favour who is screened, whose fervour is her praise!

(Rushes off flourishing Gertrude’s scarf)

Polonius- What’s to be done? The boy’s an ass

But then his mother was just a village lass

Big boned and blonde, a breeding mare.

Came she to court, she could but stare

& gape at the gallants, and gawp at the dames

’Twas the High King’s jest- just one of his games

To foist moron on genius, harlot on saint

Not that I had cause for complaint

Her heart as pure as her wit was slender

When the child queen, Gertrude, thought to befriend her

It broke. She died. On her death-bed raved.

Of Heaven’s Queen, star-light laved,

Descending moon beam stairs to draw her up

With the Pleiades to song and sup.

For her ox like eyes had seen the glory

Burst her ox like heart, a story

Showing what dread divinity yet hedges

To simple soul that pledges

Love to the old High Kings’ race

Or sees it in the Queen’s fair face.

For such Love ever is to those low born fatal

To Elsinore’s hamlets who are natal

For all Heaven is but as winter to that smile

Oppose it with arms! oppose it with guile!

As I did, taking sheath to the king’s knife,

Wise widower, a richly jewelled wife

A proper baron’s daughter

  Some whore had taught her

And I advanced as never before

Gertrude’s eyes now red and sore

Till, with eyes that dimmed the morn

Ophelia, of my loins, was born

Defeated in beauty, now drably attired,

Her mother lasted a week- then expired

Not that Gertrude had any respite for joy

The King, I’d captured with another toy!

Laertes- Father?

Polonius-   (startled)  Christ!

Laertes-                 Father, thank God it’s you!

                        Calling upon our Saviour true.

Fiend’s, I know, care not for that holy name.

And by fiends tonight Elsinore’s beset

What infidelity in me, ’twas to blame

I know not, nor worse yet

What carnal colouring to devoted thought

Ope’d Hell’s gates so a base fiend had wrought

My soul’s overthrow taking your seeming shape

Uttering blasphemies till my only means of escape

Was reverence- for you, and, one other perhaps

Ah! How I had fallen! I know not for what lapse…

Polonius- Yes… well… You take after your mother.

Laertes- I see her in dreams! Her and one other

Their images conjoined in some curious way

One the Sky, the other the lightning’s flickering play

Or one the image, the other the aura

One this hour, the other Aurora

Or, stay, if what I say seems to you absurd…

Polonius- Nay lad, enough, not another word

Laertes- But, Father, for act I mayn’t, speak I must

And, if not to you, then to whom in all trust?

Polonius- Nay, but it wounds me; speak not in this vein

Laertes-  ’Tis a glorious wound! If I could but explain!

Polonius- I loved your mother! Be silent now

Laertes- Would my mother could show me how!

Polonius- Gertrude had a mother. A foreign whore

Brought ruin to Elsinore and Denmark’s shore

Laid low the last of our true High Kings

Killed kinship, courtesy, and love of local things

Turned our wattle to stone with her Gorgon glance

Taught our country morrice the sword’s red dance

Pawned our shady patria for Amphion’s lyre

Flayed our Marsyas shepherds for Empire

Sent Viking our gentle King

Death is the song such Sirens sing!

No sons have they, sometimes a daughter

Consider what Gertrude’s mother taught her!

Twelve years that widow reared our Queen

Yet, from beyond the grave, must vent her spleen

Granting, by her Will, the child, Gertrude’s hand

To whomsoever led our most vile war band

And returned laden from ploughing the Sea

With richest harvest for Persephone

Laertes- A metaphor I’ll put to other uses

Gertrude’s the light from Eleusis!

Or, seeing how narcissus opens its eye to greet her

Say Kore’s daughter is Demeter

Polonius- That way madness lies

Laertes- Yes. But, else, Love dies

Polonius- Love dies. Yes. Yet are there children

Laertes- That’s usury.

 For the parfait to breed is certain sin.

Polonius- What Bogomil blasphemy is this you preach?

Laertes- Nay, ’tis what the Courts of Love proudly teach

Polonius- A pox on foreigners and their foul infections!

Laertes-  Progeny’s the pox on the heart’s affections

Polonius- For shame sirrah! For very shame!

Laertes- Truth blushes not at praise or blame

Polonius- Go to sirrah! Go to, go to!

Laertes- & it were to her, I would so do

Polonius- I waste my breath having words with you

Laertes- All breath is wasted on me too

  Save I breathe her name..

Polonius-                         (shouts) For shame!

(whispering)- Name her not! For your neck have a care!

Laertes-          Let Dawn blush, only Gertrude’s fair!

Polonius-        More of this and we’re undone!

Laertes-     Gladly, my Icarus words by Gertrude’s Sun

Polonius-    We’re overheard! Who’s that approaches?

Laertes-            Peril comforts, Safety reproaches

Polonius-    Why, well met! Look ’tis Fortinbras!

Fortinbras-             Stand off ho! Let me pass

Polonius-    Why, young my lord, we’re all friends here.

Fortinbras-             Stand off ho! Or taste my spear

Polonius-      A spear? my lord, that yon’s a crozier

Fortinbras-  Stand off ho! I’ve got a knife!

 (cringing in abrupt volte face)  O take my purse! just spare my life!

Polonius-     You mistake us, my lord, we’ve no purpose felonious

        This here’s my son & I’m Lord Chamberlain Polonius

(Fortinbras has taken the opportunity to run away. Polonius shouts after him)

Remember me to your Uncle- the Cardinal!

Laertes- To remember her to me all things were created

Polonius- A pox upon words!

Laertes-                                 To words am I fated.

            Penelope weaves through each wave in the Odyssey

            Laertes’ shroud, and that Textum is theodicy

            Word’s web

At Meaning’s ebb

Undone each night

Resumed at first light

I shuttle, Father,

Or say am shuttled rather

If Dreams are the loom, the web is waking

Or the heart’s each beat, the coarse thread’s breaking

Or a ’broidered figure

A thumb’s width- no bigger

In a tapestried Eden briefly exalted

Then exiled, then again halted

Trembling on the threshold of what’s allowed to be

Hope, my Arachne, my Atropos she… (wanders off, his voice fading)

Polonius- His wits list, the mast dips leeward

            From windy talk, his brain’s grown fever’d

            I must away to plot and plan

            Enlist Rumour’s aid, if I can

            To crown my son, not from mere ambition

            But to preserve his life, I make my mission (hurries away purposefully)

Act 2

Ophelia, a twelve year old, in cumbersome court dress, gathering up her skirts to reveal naked feet. She is playing hopscotch.

Ophelia-

Skip, hop, splay! (Splays her legs to straddle two boxes)

            He comes out to play

            Hop, skip, hop (teetering on one leg)

            He goes to the shop

            Hop, hop, skip

            He kisses me on the lip (trips and falls into the arms of Laertes)

Laertes- Nay, for then you’ll trip

Ophelia-  Oh! Wow, you gave me a scare!

(Turning around to hang from his neck, kicking her heels in the air)

But to say I tripped is really so-oo unfair

I let myself fall, coz’ I knew you were there.

Laertes- Oh, yes? and how did you know?

Ophelia- Coz you’re my bro!

            You’ll always be there

(Disengaging, and pouting)

            at least, you always were

            But, now, you don’t care!

Laertes – Neigh, neigh, my fine filly (neighing and making horse like gestures)

Ophelia- Ooh, you are silly! (mollified)

But, really, you’ve gotten awful neglectful

Scarcely noticing me & then all cold & respectful

If that’s your French courtesy, it deserves a good stomping

I’m for play, and nick-names, and pillow fights and romping

Laertes-   Ah! But, Ophelia, you’re a lady now

Ophelia- Not I, I pray, I vow

It’s your mind that’s fixed on the ladies

As for me, I wish ’em all to Hades!

Laertes- ’Tis time to put aside childish things

Ophelia-  Nothing good, Adulthood brings

Laertes- Yet, will ye nill ye to this end you must come

Ophelia- Naught becomes me less than that to become

Laertes- Would you be a child forever?

Ophelia- I would & you my elder brother!

Laertes- That, at least, I’ll be always.

Ophelia- That’s talk. You’ve been here four days

                & haven’t asked once to see my dolls!

Laertes- Heaven trembles! My transgression appals!

Ophelia- There’s no call to get sarcastic!

Laertes- Nay, in truth, my wits grow spastic!

            That I should delay

My devoirs to pay

            To Chrissie, Missie, Betsy and Barbie

             A crime as heinous, as any in Hammurabi!

Ophelia- (uncertain, because she really does believe it’s a crime)

               Oh you- you’re just funning!          

Laertes- Not at all, I go to them running! (races off)

Ophelia- Stop! No fair! Come back, and start level!

(Starting to run, but tripping) O, Madonna, send skirts to the devil!

Claudius, who has been eavesdropping, moves into the spotlight as Ophelia runs off. Claudius continues watching her as Gertrude approaches.

Gertrude- Whither goest thy glance, dread my lord?

Caludius- Down memory’s byways that they afford

            A glimpse of a girl no older than that one

            Who thought me a clod, tho’ I thought her the Sun

Gertrude- Nay, but is it of me that now you speak?

Claudius- Forgive me, my dear, my will is weak

            And returns ever to that dear occasion

            When not I resisted a divine invasion

            Fresh tho’ I stood from wreaking havoc on the Saxon

            Myself, I found bound in chains so gossamer and flaxen…

(Gertrude tosses her head)     

            Ah! and it was from just such a toss, I was overthrown!

            Nay! Not a hair is changed, just more golden grown.

Gertrude-                         Fie upon thee! Fie!

            ’Twas for my mother you had an eye

Claudius- That I did. (pause) Why of course!

               Who loves the river, reveres its source!

Gertrude- Be more glib, my lord, or we see through the cheat!

Claudius- Only for my heart doth speak what my lips defeat

Gertude- Nay, go to, you’re smooth, you’re smooth

            Methinks, oftimes, I liked you better in sooth

            When silent you gloomed in your brother’s shadow

            Than now you’d frisk with young ewes in the meadow!

Claudius- Pity me, that in youth I was stung

      I but grow older to grow young!

Gertrude- I begin to see the plot you’re hatching

            That the blame be mine, for your cradle snatching!

Claudius- Nay, all I did was cast a fatherly eye…

Gertude- Fie upon thee! Ye heavens cry fie!

Claudius- The High Kings conquered by not arms nor art

 Their race’s sceptre was the wisdom of the heart 

Seek in its annals of which your blood has learning

                  What says it then of a father’s yearning?

Gertrude- And is that the reason…?

Claudius-                                      Else were treason!

Gertrude-  But oft have I told you what the wise-woman said

                        Not I am barren, yet you come not to bed!

Claudius- Willingly I would, but a spectre dread

            Stands between us- licked by flames Hellish red

            This I have told you, and how I’d that ghost defy

            But that ever and anon ‘murder!’ it doth cry

            And wakes in me such guilt for a deed not I’ve done

            But, perhaps, dreamed till the very shadows seem to shun

            Me, as from your bed I flee, Ah me! I’m undone!

Gertrude-   ’tis but a colour of the mind, a figment

Claudius-  Ah me! to be poltrooned by a pigment!

Gertrude- Nay, when the mind takes a hue

            It must render Hecate’s due

            So the wise-women say

            Till some conjurors’ play        

            The imagined deed enact

            And the mind abreact...

            Husband, I beseech thee, send for the players!

Claudius- Nay, I’ll rely on naught but your prayers. (Uttered forcefully, Claudius makes a manly exit)

Gertrude- My mind misgives me, there’s something here

                       I can not see, yet needs must fear

Second spotlight picks out Laertes as he passes.

            Why Laertes, would you pass me by?

            Not bowing, not speaking, but with an averted eye…

            Don’t avoid me, old playfellow, my blushes to spare!

            You alone are ashamed of the children we once were!

(Laertes gapes open mouthed. He hasn’t presence of mind even to bow.)   

            Danes term discourtesy, tho’ perhaps the French deem high fashion,

            Fish-faced gaping- but, stop!, is it an amorous passion?

            Has consumed your wits- ah! I see by the throbbing of your gills

            Some wench has landed you- does with you as she wills

            Ah! now everything becomes clear, the mystery dissolves

            Your mighty distraction and nightly pacing of the walls

            What’s the name of the damsel leads you such a dance?

            Your body here in Denmark, your heart yet in France!

Laertes:- I…I…

Gertrude-              Fie upon thee! I’ll have no courtly lie

                            Who is the fair one for whom you sigh?

Laertes- Nay, by my faith…

Gertrude-                             the crocodile sayeth!

                        Would we were children again!

 there was honesty in you then

              Now you’ve grown up, you’re no different from other men.

(Exits)

Laertes- A curse upon my heart that it should so tie in knots

            My cursed tongue that can now curse my thoughts

            So fluently, that those thoughts unfilial fetter

            The Will which is their only begetter

            O cursed Will!

            That holds me captive, cursing still

            When to her doth fly

            In a breathless sigh

            My soul, my soul

            To be blessed & by her made whole!

(Enter Rosycross and Goldenstone- the one in Rosicrucian, the other in Alchemist’s attire. They take up self-important and mysterious positions facing Laertes, but wait for him to address them. Laertes does not recognise them. There is an awkward pause.)

Rosycross- (finally stepping forward and giving a variety of Masonic hand signals)

                               Well,..  ahem!..  I confess, I’m rather at a loss

                       Can you already have forgotten your old roomie Rosycross?!

Laertes- Who?

Goldenstone (to Rosycross)- Well so much for you!

Only the search for the stone is the true Aletheia

Over all that’s mundane, flood Lethe here!

(to Laertes) How now, old lab-mate, how goes the quest?

Laertes- Who the devil are you, so oddly dressed?

Goldenstone- (aside to Rosycross) His memory’s misted by arcane studies

                        (to Laertes)                        Why,’tis I Goldenstone!

Laertes- O aye? & seeing as how we were once such buddies

              I suppose you thought I could manage a loan?

Rosycross (to Goldenstone)-  That’s one in your eye and no mistake

                                  Those Alchemist’s robes such an obvious fake!

Goldenstone- The dealer said they were genuine Chinese

Rosycross-  Perhaps that was the provenance of the fleas

                    For our European ones aren’t a patch on these

                    That jump so high

                    And the reason why

                    Is they seek a glimpse of far Cathay…

Goldenstone- Enough with the fleas, or we’ll be here all day

                      The fact of the matter, my dear Laertes

                       If you’ve truly forgotten us, and this isn’t just a tease

                       Is that we’re old friends of yours (Laertes looks dubious)

                                                        - well, acquaintances at least

                        I passed you the salt at the Fresher’s feast

                        And then there was that one time at a Fraternity mixer

                        When we had a cozy little chat about the quest for the elixir

                        Except you kept throwing up- which didn’t faze me any

                        Tho’ the dry cleaning bill came to a pretty penny

                        Not that I’m here to collect, perish the thought!

                        I’m an alchemist after all- tho’ if you could change an ingot?

                        I made it myself just the other day

                        Too pure, I’m afraid, for your Danish assay

                        But what with one thing and another

                        If it wouldn’t be any bother

                        I mean, if you could just see your way.. (proffers a lump of coal)

Rosycross-       …God’s teeth man! put that thing away!

(to Laertes)     By my trowel,

He’s an owl!

                        I wouldn’t be seen dead with him

                        Except he helped me get off gym

                        Forging a letter from my dear old pater

Goldenstone -             Traitor!

                                                You swore you’d never tell!

Rosycross-       Oh hell!

                                    Well, we’re all friends here…

                        I mean, you can’t count telling an old roomie

                        Or if you can, just go ahead and sue me!

Laertes-  You’re saying we were room-mates?

Rosycross-  and went on double-dates!

                   I mean, we would have done

                        We surely should have done

Seeing as we were rushed by the same frat

The toniest- but I needn’t tell you that

So we’re like frat-buds from way back!

Well, would have been, except I got the sack

Because of the fuss over that forged letter

I mean, it was only gym, but the Rector

Didn’t quite understand

When I shook his hand

That I wasn’t trying to flirt

Or, as quid pro quo, lift his shirt

Not that his buttocks weren’t kind of pert

But when, after all that passed between us, he still refused

To let me stay, I felt so cheap and used!

Goldenstone- Tell me about it. I was six months in plaster

                        After my bout with the gym-master.

Rosycross- (angrily) But old Aquinas didn’t your hopes defraud

                                        He got you on the cheerleading squad!

Goldenstone- Yeah but only for the hayseed circuit

                        And with so little material to work it

I mean, a chap can’t dazzle without a decent pom pom

         And the lads deserves better, even for a run of the mill pogrom

Rosycross-         Well, yes, there’s nothing so important as esprit de corps

                                    Which was why being expelled was such a bore

                             Just when I was on the point of getting into a good frat

Goldenstone- By my alathnor! No more of that!

(turning to Laertes who sneaked off long ago)

                       I am sorry my Lord …

                                                            Good God!

                                                                                    He’s vanished

Rosycros-        Its your cheerleading stories- they’ve gotten us banished

                        From Heidelburg and Freiburg and every which why burg

            I’m sorry, old boy, but to be absolutely blunt

            Sometimes you come across as a bit of a…

Goldenstone (speaking simultaneously)

           They liked my stories at Oxford- why, one time in a punt

            The Master of Magdalene got so excited about a stunt

            I devised one half-time to enliven a pogrom in Dachau

            He tried it himself and put his own back out

Rosycross-       That’s not what I heard.

Goldenstone-   No, nor me.

(Awkward pause. They look at each other)

 urm. Should we just sort of push off do you think?

Rosycross- Much the best course. I’m not really quite clear what we’re doing here anyway. But, anything for a laugh eh?

Goldenstone- No.

(They stand around awkwardly)

Right well, let’s just get off shall we?

Rosycross (morosely) yeah, whatever.

(Goldenstone goes off and then comes back)

Goldenstone- Aren’t you coming then?

Rosycross-What? We’ve got to go everywhere together have we? Why don’t you just go on ahead by yourself for a bit. I’ll be along in my own time.

Goldenstone- Oh. Well. Right! If that’s the way you want to play it…

Rosycross- Oh, just piss off for Chrissake!

Goldenstone- Very well then, though there’s no call to raise your voice.

(Ghost appears extreme left. Only Rosycross sees him. He screams.)

Goldenstone- Hark at her! I’m going already. (disappears behind curtain. Ghost advances slowly)

Ghost-                                                Hamlet, son, if be thou near

                                                 Hamlet, son, hie thee here

                                       Thy Sire, Hamlet, who’s now but grist

                                             To Hamlet’s Mill, bids thee list.

(At the mention of Hamlet’s Mill there is a roar- as of the sea)

Ah, Hamlet’s Mill now grinds my bones

I who bestrode 2 Baltic thrones

&, a Norse Colossus, held the North in fee

In Hamlet’s Mill, now, re-salt the Sea.

(Drawing closer to Rosycross)

Ah, Hamlet, son, ‘twas once my boast

My bare whisper woke the Varangian coast

Yet walk I abroad- now a wittering ghost

Sleep sound the sentries at their post.

(examining Rosycross)

Urm. You’re not a sentry.

Rosycross- dumbly shakes his head.

Ghost- This is awkward.

( pause)

Look, just to put you in the picture- I’m looking for my son Hamlet, so as to stir him up to take vengeance on widow’d Denmark’s too peaceful ways.

Rosycross- You seek the widow’s son!

Ghost- Well…Ye-es.. I suppose you could put it like that

Rosycross advances making Masonic gestures.

Ghost- I say! You’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m not that sort of chap at all. I mean, I’m not saying I never tried a bit of the other- but that was under battle-field conditions; things are different in war-time donchaknow...

Rosycross (coldly)- That’s what they all say.

Ghost- Yes, well.. Good God, was that a cock crow?

Rosycross- No!

Ghost-  Still. Mustn’t dally. Toodle pip!

Rosycross hangs about a bit backstage. Goldenstone comes for him and they prepare to go off when Polonius walks on and they repair to him eagerly.

Polonius-  The harvest’s failed. Elsinore’s soil marries the wind

            The harvest’s failed. Lord! We have grievously sinned!

            Barren seeds are we, by the scythe affrighted

            Barren seeds, our own seed corn blighted

            And in the peasant’s cott, on good report,

In the humble cott, but soon at court

            Hunger suckles at each shrivelled breast

Now the peasant’s, soon the patrician’s guest

Rosycross-  Excellency! By your leave

Polonius- And you did, who’d grieve?

Goldenstone- Excellency! Our respects

Polonius- Cursėd he who accepts

Rosycross- But, good my Lord, you bade us here

Polonius- More than friends, I keep you near

Goldenstone- Command us, Lord, but a little less riddlingly

Rosycross- Command us, Lord, we’d do your will willingly

Polonius-  You are the two coiners of whom I received report

Rosycross & Goldenstone (simultaneously)-

                     Good my Lord, you speak in sport!

Polonius- My wit is edged, you’ll taste the full richness of the jest

                  When the headman’s axe your neck does test

Rosycross-  But, most just my Lord, I am of the craft

                    As for him- well, he’s just a bit daft

Goldenstone- But, but, my Lord, you can see by, the manner I’m dressed

                        ’Tis the philosopher’s stone I make my quest

Polonius- Coiners both- the sort that has currency

               When harvest fails, a plague of vagrancy

                Worse than any chastened Pharaoh

                 Who bide their time and blameless lie low

                   In palmy days and balmy clime- but who

                   Mushroom most in murrain time-

                                                                 You two!

(Rosycross & Goldenstone had been preparing to sneak away, are pinioned by sentries who suddenly pounce from behind the drapes)

Rosycross- Unhand me! (struggles) why the fellow’s deaf!

                     Don’t you know I’m with the I.M.F!

Goldenstone- The civilised world will unite to deplore

                        This outrage on an agent of the W.T.O

Polonius- What mean these hellish acronyms?

(Rosycross & Goldenstone)- The new subject of all secular hymns!

Rosycross- the I.M.F is the International Masonic Fellowship

Goldenstone- & the World Thaumaturgic Order to those who’re hip

                                    The W.T.O is called and yclept

Polonius- Jesus wept!

Rosycross- Angels, unaware, you entertain

Goldenstone- Release us and we’ll gladly explain

Polonius- Not coiners no- but chapmen Devil sent

            Following famine’s footsteps with the foul intent

            Of cheapening souls for your Satanic master

            Speed you to perdition, I’ll send you there faster!

(brandishes sword)

Goldenstone - So fierce my Lord! Take thought, forebear

                        The State’s ruined Credit we can repair

                        As for Devils and demons, ghosts and ghouls

                        Trouble they none but born were fools

                        We’re serviceable my Lord, use us fitly

                        To lop our heads were hardly thrifty!

Polonius-   My sword is swift, you are already dead,

       But don’t know it. If you so much as nod your head

       Save by my leave, off your shoulders it will topple

       And no process of law- not King’s writ nor estoppel

            Will restore you to aught save a puppet’s existence

With me pulling the strings. Oh, I’ll grant you subsistence

Nothing more, for all you Fortune’s fools

But live to be Policy’s tools.

Goldenstone- Dread my Lord, we think it good

To leave off flesh and be as wood.

The better to be your marionettes

We have no will but what your will begets.

(Polonius nods and then looks at Rosycross.)

Rosycross- What he said (Goldenstone nudges him)What? Oh yeah, like wood is good, we’re into wood and um er you know the whole puppet show thing? Like we’re tOtally into that, and everything’s cool and erm you know, different strokes for different folk and like yeah you know this could really work, I mean this could go over big time. Yeah, like totally. Yeah. Unhh hunnh. Hey! WaZZZZZZZZup!

Are we having a good time or what?

(Polonius and Goldenstone walk off while Rosycross is talking. Fade out.)

Act 3

Laertes-       All happens as has happened before

                     We tread the weird we trod of yore

                  Our World narrows as our view expands

                 As held my heart swells in her slender hands

                 & if, in sluggish streams, aught reach the Sea

                    or embark overgrown lads, the World to see

                       That Sea will yet boil in Hamlet’s Mill

                    & the World yet whirl to unwork our Will

Polonius- (entering) Laertes!

                                         Ah, lad, you’ll drive me to distraction!

            Still lost to your thought, tho’ the Court quake in faction

Laertes-  My thoughts, father, are not my own

               I harvest what the weird has sown

Polonius- The Harvest! Aye, the Blight is upon us!

                 A wound I must touch like doubting Thomas

                It harrows me, yet my heart must harden

                & whip on my wits to save the garden.

Laertes-  Not Blight, father, for Blight’s but a Season

             Nor ’s Love a Blight, and Light only Reason

             What I harvest now, tho’ I but harvest words…

Polonius- Harvest nothing! Have done with words!

                Or we’re harvest sure to the carrion birds!

Laertes-  Is Death fearful? I thought her the third

              Ascending in Beauty, phase of the weird

              I welcome Death, & if you ask ‘why?’

              Death’s the Mother who does not die

Polonius- Death is not fearful when it comes in such guise

            ’Twas at about your age, the Queen’s image in her eyes

              Your mother died. She died. The country bred girl

              Died.

              And now, it’s all happening again.

              I, I… I mean… I took precautions. I’ve spent money

             Damn it, I sent you to Paris!

Prompter- & tho Paris, fair is, it’s manners are made mock etc.

Polonius (exploding)- You’re on the wrong fucking page! And that’s his line, not mine you utter asshole! Oh just fuck off anyway coz I’m not a fucking machine, so just shut it…

Prompter- So-rry!

(Awkward silence. Polonius and Laertes stand around brooding. Ophelia shows up.)

Ophelia- What’s going on? Were you having a row? Won’t someone please tell me what’s going on?

(She goes to Polonius and nestles under his arm looking up at his face. That failing, she goes to Laertes and tugs at his sleeve. Then she catches hold of his upper arm and hangs from it until Laertes is obliged to stoop down and turn his face towards her.)

Won’t someone please say something?

Laertes- What’s the point? Nobody understands a word I say.

Ophelia- I’ll understand! Talk to me only! My embroidery teacher says I’m sharper than a needle. I bet, even if you talk your poetic French, I’ll understand you.

Laertes- I hope that isn’t true.

Ophelia (flouncing)- You think I’m still a child! (Her skirts whirl up to reveal her naked feet.)

Laertes- Still barefoot & wild

Ophelia- (covering feet) I’ve plenty of shoes, & what’s more, they have heels

Laertes- & you’d wear them, I suppose, if only they had wheels!

Ophelia- Shoes with wheels! Now that’s an idea!

            No need to walk, I’d be skating all year!

Polonius- & taking many a fall, I very much fear!

Ophelia (to Laertes)- not if you were with me, you’d catch me pretty quick

Polonius- He might catch you my dear but you’d also catch it from my stick!

Ophelia- It’s unfair! I’m the only one they all punish!

Laertes- Nay, I’ll go halves should Daddy turn hunnish

Ophelia- Will you really? Well, it so happens I’ve got this tiny bit of imposition from my embroidery teacher and seeing as I’ve already finished almost half of it- I mean I would have done if I’d started- so, you see, if you’re really going to go halves on all my punishments from now on…

Laertes- Say no more. Lead me to it.

Polonius- He’ll join you, child, in a little while. There’s something we need to talk about first.

Ophelia- Oh! Well, if it’s a family matter, then the imposition will have to wait, that’s all. Teacher will get mad, but she has to understand, now I’m the woman of the house, my family comes first. Don’t worry daddy, I’ll take care of everything. Just tell me what’s bothering you.

Polonius- Well, if you must know, it’s this complaint we’ve received from the Wardrobe Mistress about girls not doing their homework.

Ophelia- Why, that spiteful creature! Look, I’d love to stick around and chat, but I’ve just remembered I’ve got this really important thing to do. Like, it’s a woman thing, so you wouldn’t understand even if I explained it to you. So, I’ve simply got to rush away especially because you know the Wardrobe Mistress has gone totally mad- it happens to her every so often- it’s a woman thing, you wouldn’t understand- so, I’ve really got to go is what I’m saying. Bye-ee!

Polonius- Right, now, before you go off into one of your fine mystic reveries, Laertes, my lad, you’re going to have to listen to me. Things have taken a serious turn. This is no longer just about you- about saving your neck- this is about the whole future of Denmark. Already, the people feel the pinch of starvation. At Court, the lesser noblemen are beginning to grumble. They yearn for the days of the dead King when our raiding ships returned laden with gold & grain. What they don’t understand is that a fundamental shift has occurred in the Balance of Power in this region. Younger, less priest-ridden, races have risen up along the shores of the Baltic. Frankly, we’ll be lucky if we avoid an invasion- we simply aren’t in a position to mount one. Economically, too, we’re in trouble. The terms of trade have moved against us. Our Currency has depreciated and, ever since the last pogrom, our Credit is exhausted. You see, the Church, is manoeuvring to take over our finances at fire-sale prices. In the past, what saved us was the reputation for ferocity the dead King enjoyed. But, Claudius, everyone knows, is no soldier. That’s why Cardinal Fortinbras arranged the papal dispensation for Gertrude’s incestuous marriage to her brother-in-law, at such a low price. Since the common people are still loyal to the line of the old High Kings, Claudius is safe enough on the throne. But, the price of Claudius’ security is Denmark’s peril unto death. Our people- as yet but lightly yoked- will be, if the Church has its way, first so unmanned by starvation they will finally acquiesce to sell themselves into perpetual bondage for the price of a little seed-corn.

The only thing we’ve got going for us is the fact that the Princes of the South might  still view us as a shield against the wild pagans of the North. But, to get them to unloose their purse strings sufficiently to tide us over our present crisis, we need to offer them an alternative to Claudius- someone with a legitimate claim to the throne and an, as yet, untarnished military reputation.

Now, there’s a rumour taken root that the dead King had a war-like son who is going to return Denmark to its destiny as the hammer of the North. For reasons, you needn’t worry your head over- you, Laertes, could be that looked for saviour. What I want you to do now is to make a tour of the German Universities- take Rosycross and Goldenstone with you- recruiting the fiercest brawlers and the most aristocratic wastrels to your cause. This will give you credibility. Once this happens, I will be able to start raising money again and famine will be staved off.

Laertes- You want me to go to University? That’s what you’re saying?

Polonius- Urm. Ye-ees.

Laertes- But, I couldn’t possibly leave Elsinore just now. Anyway, I spent a term or two at Paris- and much good it did me! No, it was the Courts of Love in Provence that really opened my eyes.

Still, it’s a very generous offer- not that you’ve ever been other than generous to me Dad- and if you’re really sure you can spare the money- there’s a couple of bills I’ve outstanding with my tailor and I know it’s a nuisance but he’s the only man who can do anything with my figure and I simply must give him a little on account because I could really use a few new suits just now because I’m constantly bumping into… well, you know who,… and I mean, I’d cut a pretty sorry figure if I  just kept rotating the same two dozen or two score outfits for the different hours of the day. Which reminds me- I must go and change. Sorry I can’t hang about and chat, but you know how it is. I’ve a position to keep up. Still, you’ve cheered me up a treat, I can’t deny that! So I guess, you’re still the bestest Dad in the World. Bye-ee!

Polonius (turns to audience to utter his soliloquy)

Prompter- Polonius turns to audience to utter his soliloquy.

Polonius- That’s the fucking stage direction you asshole! You’ve ruined it now! Fuck this for a game for soldiers. I mean what is the fucking point!

(Ghost enters)

Hamlet son, if be thou near etc.

Polonius- That’s not in the script! You crazy old bastard you’ve got the wrong cue.

Ghost- No I haven’t.

Prompter- He’s right you know.

Polonius & Ghost speaking together- Whose right? Me or him?

Prompter- Him

Polonius- Oh! Well I’m just a useless old fart aren’t I? Obviously suffering from senile fucking dementia! I need a drink! (Leaves)

Ghost-  Hamlet, son, if be thou near etc

Prompter- When I said him, I didn’t mean you I meant him.

Ghost- Whom?

Prompter- That other geezer.

Ghost- Oh! So what you’re saying to me is I’m not supposed to be onstage just now?

Prompter- That is what I’m saying to you, yes.

Ghost- Well, I’ll just go then.

Prompter- But then there will be no one left on stage.

Ghost- So?

Prompter- But, if there’s no one on stage how am I supposed to know where we are in the play?

Ghost- Dunno. Maybe, you don’t need to know, coz you don’t have to prompt anyone.

Prompter- Hamlet son, if be thou near

Ghost-  what? Oh right.. Hamlet son if be thou near etc

Prompter- No! No! Stop ! Cut it out! I’m not prompting you, I just missed my line.

Ghost (stands around awkwardly) – urm, right, well, I’ll just wander off then shall I?

Prompter- But, then there will be no one on the stage

Ghost- So?

Prompter- Hamlet son if be thou near etc

(Director walks on, apologises to audience, silences prompter, drags off the ghost, and tells audience to go have a drink while he sorts things out.

Member of the audience- Urm! Excuse me!

Director- Yes?

Member of the audience- Well, I mean, I don’t know how other people feel, but

Director- No refunds. It’s theatre policy.

Member of the audience- Hey, I got a free ticket, and I’m not complaining or anything but it’s just that, well, seeing as we’re going for a drink and all...

Director- Very civil of you- mine’s a spritzer.

Member of the audience- No I don’t mean…

Director- The girls are partial to a spot of bubbly.

Member of the audience- I’m sorry, we seem to be at cross-purposes here. I’m not offering to buy you guys a drink, I just want to know what happens in the rest of the play. I mean, just in case I meet somebody interesting at the bar and we get chatting and it leads to a leg-over and then I’m like sitting up in the middle of the night wondering what happened to whassisname you know the guy and that other guy and you know stuff like that.

Director- Oh! Right, well, I see. I mean sure, I totally get your point. And, I‘d really like to help you out. But, I’m like more into the whole mise en scene donchaknow? I mean like does anything really happen in this play? I mean, like isn’t the whole point that nothing actually happens?

Member of the audience- So, nothing happens?

Director- Perhaps nothing concrete happens, but, perhaps, in another sense, everything happens.

Member of the audience- any sex?

Director- I’d have to check the script.

Act 4

Gertrude-  All happens as has happened before

              The players return to Elsinore

           The Cosmos entire taking the Court for stage

            As Fate’s prompter turns its First Folio page

             Not our speech to mend but souls to mar

              Not Hell to baffle but Heaven to bar

             All happens as has happened before

               The same old drama at Elsinore!

Ophelia- Aunty, is something wrong?

Gerturde- Child, be strong!

Ophelia- Aunty, you’re upset

   It’s the Wardrobe Mistress, I bet

      She’s been telling you tales

    Laying on your eyes such scales

That you can no longer see

Your special pet- that’s me!

Come to make all things better

See, I’ve knitted you a sweater!

Well I would have done

I easily could have done

Except my knitting needles got mislaid

Or, for candy apples, went in trade

And so- to complete my utterly unjust imposition

Great Queen- that’s you- your aid, I petition!

Gertrude- Girlhood lost to brute Lust’s requisition

           Womanhood to Love’s bitter Inquisition

          The wombs we inclose and uterine font

           Are a soldier’s jest, his spoils to taunt!

Ophelia- I don’t understand.

Gertrude- A Prince seeks your hand.

Ophelia- My hand is attached to my arm

Gertrude- Yet your hand will do you harm

Ophelia- Then I’ll cut it off and get a hook

Gertrude- Your hook will get you hooked

Ophelia- Then my goose is cooked

          Unless, it I unscrew

          & attach with some glue

          Ye olde chain saw!

          Now, that were a paw

          Could best, I wager

          The great bear of the Ursa Major!

Gertrude (smiling against herself)- Yet all come under ‘the plough’

Ophelia- Not me, I pledge, I vow

Gertrude- How escape thy starry doom?

Ophelia- I’ll sweep the skies with my broom!

Gertrude- Ah! Now I see your true vocation

Ophelia- (insinuatingly) My best subject is ‘Summer Vacation’.

Gertrude- You’re wasting your time with embroidery and knitting

Ophelia- A Solomon in Judgment, here is sitting!

Gertrude- Henceforth mops and brooms shall be your care

Ophelia- Cool! But my brother too should get a share

Gertrude- Laertes? I thought you were close?

           But then, he’s a Man.. I suppose…

                        And that remains the acid test

               & Laertes, too, just like the rest.

Ophelia- Aunty, believe me, he’s always been the best

          ’Cept, now, there’s so much starch in his vest.

           Polishing floors will suit him better I think

           He will get them as slippery as a skating rink

           And while the rest of the court go tumbling- arse over tip

           You and me’ll sail serene with a hearthrug for ship!

(Ophelia illustrates what she means-finally skating- actually hopping- out of sight, blissfully oblivious to the fact that, meanwhile, Gertrude has turned to see that Claudius has been watching.)

Claudius (guiltily) - My queen, I feared to interrupt..

Gertrude- Lord, be thou more abrupt

           As all desire is, that scepter’d be

           Turning caprice to necessity.

Claudius- Gentle wife, you do me wrong

Gertrude- As thou thy heirs that to my womb belong

Claudius- This again?! Have I not said

           For what reason strong I abhor thy bed?

           A ghost stands between us- ‘Murder!” its cry

Gertrude- The Host fears no ghost- it binds us- you and I

Claudius- Learned Clerics grave fault in our marriage have found

Gertrude- Breaking Faith to break what God together has bound

Claudius- Madam, you mistake me- none speak here of divorce

Gertrude- Who’d counsel the costly when there’s cheaper recourse?

Claudius- Madam, I beseech you, speak not such riddles

Gertrude- Marry- if I didn’t- how ugly your Idylls?

Claudius- Is this what you call speaking plain?

Gertrude- The heart’s whisper, to the ear is pain

Claudius- Come, Madam, this is unseemly!

Gertrude- As Truth is to Kings extremely

Claudius- Madam, if I may, your doubts set at rest

Gertrude- A babe I’d have suckling at my breast!

Claudius- Yes. Yes. It’s all true. I’ve been no husband to you. There is justice in your taunt.

Gertrude- You are my husband. All the man I want.

Claudius- And you my wife, my Queen, my life

Gertrude- twist not that knife!

Claudius- My soldier’s life, my wife and Queen

           Is but blood to be spilt for what has been

           So that what was once might again be now

           & our race’s crown encircling your brow

           Blaze forth, once more, with such splendor

           As to illumine our land & defend her

           Against alien horde’s martial thunder

           Ranks ravening to us tear asunder

           Till thy forked lightning burns up their banners

           & under thy yoke, they mend their manners

           Not that, at this moment, invasion is the danger

           But, rather, the Blight- long to our shores a stranger

           & Famine and Civil Faction- Evils twin born

           To defeat which I must this guile suborn.

           & Hamlet-like, death for life dissemble

           & its crown to steady, a dearer heart let tremble.

But, wait, here is Lord Chamberlain Polonius

His ploy to expound in periods harmonious

For till her old steward explain it, strategy is a knife

All husbandry’s so hurtful to the heart of a wife

(Claudius departs. Polonius comes up.)

Polonius-   Majesty, your pardon, but the players approach

            & so who bid them here is spared self-reproach

           Permit me, in your name, their company to banish

           Ah! Would the Blight that besets us as easily vanish!

Gertrude-      Ever is there gloom in the matters you broach

Banishment is the doom for who on my prerogative encroach

    But, my Lord, that is you- for they come at my command

Polonius- The people cry for bread, yet Drama you demand?

Gertrude- Be it on my head, no counsel can remand

          This Physic I feel will work the Public weal

           Banish my land’s blight and barrenness heal

                  Purge this our blood guilt

              The plundered gelt this Palace built

         For the theatre is as a mirror in which we cast

     Off evil enchantments and passion’s poisonous past

(Enter the players- A bunch of mime artists.)

Gertrude- You aren’t the players I sent for.

Player- Thees eez Edinburgh- yees? Zee Festival yeees?

Gertrude- No, this is Elsinore. You need to go back and change at Stuttgart.                                           Polonius- Actually, the last Folk-wandering from Stuttgart left a couple of centuries ago. You’d be better off carrying the plague to Norway and then catching the 1239 invasion which will get you as far as the Orkneys.

Players- Zank you. Vee go now. (They don’t leave. Instead they begin to mime leaving)

Polonius- Fuck this! I need a drink. (Leaves)

Gertrude- (appeals to the Director, off stage) The mimes are at it again. Can’t you do something.

What?

(Goes off)

Ophelia comes on deep in conversation with Rosycross and Goldenstone

Ophelia- so you understand what you have to do?

Goldenstone- Absolutely.

Rosycross- Say what?

Goldenstone- Ignore him. The thing’s in the bag. Nothing easier.

Ophelia- okay. Off you go then. (The mimes prick up their ears and leave)

Goldenstone also leaves. Rosycross hangs about. Goldenstone returns and frog marches him off.

Ophelia- To be or not to be- that is the quest-ion

         Tho’ both but are Mischief’s suggest-ion

          Kid’s listen to coz they don’t know any better

       Like that one time I knitted the Universe a sweater

    And it wore it all Christmas but then swore it was lost

      Though I found it in its closet that same Pentecost

                Which only goes to show

                  Something or other y’know.

Enter Wardrobe Mistress (Iyer in drag)- Ophelia, beti, I been searching you madly.

Ophelia- Whilst in embroidery room, Ma’am, I missing you sadly.

Wardrobe Mistress- Chee! Chee! Such lies you are telling?

Ophelia- Na ji na! Only truth I am yelling!

Wardrobe Mistress- Jhutti kahin ki! Shame you are not knowing?

Ophelia- Only longing for learning in my heart keeps growing

Wardrobe Mistress- But why you don’t come to class to sit and learn?

Ophelia- But there I sit and to learn I yearn

Wardrobe Mistress- But class is where I am, it is you who are truant

Ophelia- Behind you I stand, more than your shadow pursuant

Wardrobe Mistress- You mean you were standing behind me all the time

Ophelia- Haan ji haan- behind your back, so sublime

Wardrobe Mistress- But when I call out your name, why you no answer?

Ophelia- My name melts in flame, as in dance does the dancer

Wardrobe Mistress- Achha?! But I see you here in the flesh!

 Ophelia- …………….Caught in Maya’s mesh

          Grace of thy glance being denied to me

           The embroidery room here embroiders thee

Wardrobe Mistress- Stop! That doesn’t make sense

Ophelia- Nor the World that pretence

Wardrobe Mistress- Beti, you trying be clever?

Ophelia- What me? No never! ‘’tis only thee I rever … or… ’kay...Oh God! You’ve found me out- I told the Queen I could never fool you, but she said you were missing India and wanted to go home and that the only way we could get you to stay and teach us all how to weave muslin and spin that other stuff, urm… linen and lace  and y’know, and so on was if I like convinced you the entire Universe was kind of… what’s the world…

Wardrobe Mistress- Maya. Illusion. Neither Space nor Time exist. There is only the weaving.

Ophelia- That’s right. So you see you’re actually back in India…

Wardrobe Mistress- I am?

Ophelia- …um…Sure! Why not?

Wardrobe Mistress- then fuck off you untouchable. In fact all youse can fuck off. I’m going back to my room to weave a nice magical realist tapestry about growing up in Calcutta and scaring Amartya Sen straight and shit. (leaves)

Ophelia- (to the audience) only way to deal with them. What can you do?

Prompter- ‘If my indecision don’t, let this at least daunt her

           Poor is the play where all passion’s in the prompter!’

Ophelia- I’m fourteen! What are you- a pervert?

Prompter- Sorry missed my place. ‘Hamlet, son, if be thou near