Ros. How gloomily he stalks!
As one o'erwhelmed with weight of bitter care.
He thrusts his hand into his bosom—thus—
Starts—looks around—then, as if reassured,
Rumples his hair and rolls his glassy eyes!
Q. (appalled). That means—he's going to soliloquize.
Prevent this, gentlemen, by any means!
Guild. We will, but how?
Q. Anticipate his points,
And follow out his argument for him;
Thus will you cut the ground from 'neath his feet
And leave him nought to say.
Ros. and Guild. We will!—we will!
Q. A mother's blessing be upon you, sirs! [Exit.
Ros. Now, Guildenstern, apply thee to this task.
Enter Hamlet; he stalks to chair, throws himself into it.
Ham. To be—or not to be!
Ros. (R. of Chair). Yes—that's the point!
Whether he's bravest who will cut his throat
Rather than suffer all—
Guild. (L. of Chair). Or suffer all
Rather than cut his throat?
Ham. (annoyed at interruption, resumes). To die—to sleep—
Ros. It's nothing more—Death is but sleep spun out—
Why hesitate? [Offers him a dagger.
