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Tom StoppardA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The stage is pitch dark, and the audience can hear ocean sounds. Guildenstern calls out to Rosencrantz, who says, “We’re not finished, then?” (89). He assures Rosencrantz that they are still alive because they can think, talk, and feel. Rosencrantz says that he can feel one of his legs, but the leg feels dead. Guildenstern orders him to give the leg a pinch, only to find out that Rosencrantz has his hand on Guildenstern’s leg instead of his own. The sounds of the sea build, and the voices of sailors emerge. Realizing they are on a boat, Guildenstern concludes that boat is heading north based on the darkness during the day.
Hamlet, hidden from view, shines a lantern on the deck, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern see “three large man-sized casks” (91) and a large beach umbrella obscuring whatever is behind it. Rosencrantz builds upon Guildenstern’s assumption regarding the boat’s course, deducing that it must be nighttime now that he can see some light. Guildenstern expresses his fondness for boats; he says that boats provide safety and allow for freedom. Rosencrantz walks upstage and notices Hamlet sleeping behind the umbrella. The pair agree to let him sleep.
Rosencrantz annoys Guildenstern by asking what they should do next. To cheer Guildenstern up, Rosencrantz sneaks two coins out of his moneybag, places a coin in each hand, and asks Guildenstern to pick the hand with a coin. Unaware of Rosencrantz’s trick, Guildenstern continuously wins the game. Rosencrantz reveals the secret behind his trick and admits that the point of his game is to make Guildenstern happy. Guildenstern wants to know how much money Claudius gave Rosencrantz. Rosencrantz insists that they were paid the same amount since Claudius “wouldn’t discriminate between [them]” (95). Guildenstern remarks that Claudius would never even realize if he mixed Rosencrantz and Guildenstern up and rages at Rosencrantz when he repeats what Guildenstern says “in a different order” (96).
Unsure of what will happen to the two of them, Rosencrantz begins to cry. He laments that they have “nothing to go on” since they are “out on [their] own” (96). Guildenstern reminds him that Claudius wants them to take Hamlet to England and bring him to the King. He also reveals that one of them is carrying Claudius’s letter to the King of England, and he asserts that the letter contains all the information they need to know to complete their task. Rosencrantz thinks that Claudius must have given him the letter and becomes distraught at not being able to find it. Guildenstern pulls the letter out of his own pocket and shows it to Rosencrantz.
Rosencrantz does not believe they are actually going to England since he cannot picture them arriving. Guildenstern tries to stay positive by reminding Rosencrantz that he has trouble believing things until they happen. When Rosencrantz suggests that “death could possibly be a boat” (100), Guildenstern refutes him, saying that death is not-being while being on a boat is being. Rosencrantz contemplates jumping overboard as a way of foiling Claudius and Hamlet’s plans but reconsiders when Guildenstern suggests that they might be expecting Rosencrantz to do that. He rages over the futility of his situation and repeats his earlier statement regarding the existence of England. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern practice what they will tell the King once they arrive and read Claudius’s letter, which calls for Hamlet’s beheading. Rosencrantz feels guilty about playing a role in Hamlet’s execution since he is supposedly their friend, but Guildenstern reminds him that their friendship with Hamlet is only hearsay. He justifies Hamlet’s death by saying that death might not be as bad as Rosencrantz thinks.
As Rosencrantz and Guildenstern sleep, Hamlet blows out his letter, creeps over to the pair, and switches their letter with one of his own. The next morning, despite his plans to assume nothing, Rosencrantz launches into a list of assumptions regarding the predicament he and Guildenstern are in. They hear a recorder coming “out of the void” (104) and search for its origin. After wandering for a period, Rosencrantz discovers that the Tragedians, sitting in the three barrels, are responsible for the music. The Player pops out of the middle barrel, excited to see Rosencrantz and Guildenstern again. Having offended Claudius with their play, the Tragedians hid in the barrels to escape his wrath.
The Player asks Rosencrantz and Guildenstern if they have spoken to Hamlet. They reply that doing so is pointless despite the fact they are unrestricted and free to do as they please “within limits” (107). Hamlet emerges, looks directly at the audience, and spits at it. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern analyze Hamlet’s character, diagnosing him with a long list of symptoms. They then run through a list of things they have recently learned about the Player, and Rosencrantz remarks that he would rather have “a little sustained action” (109) than incidents. Pirates immediately board the ship and launch an attack. Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Hamlet, and the Player rush to fight the pirates, but they lose their nerves and decide to hide in the barrels instead. Hamlet and the Player hide in the left-hand and right-hand barrels respectively while Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hide in the middle barrel.
The lights dim and come up again, revealing only the left and right barrels. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern emerge from the barrel on the right while the Player emerges from the barrel on the left. They quickly discover that Hamlet is missing. Guildenstern laments, “We’ve had our instructions—the whole thing’s pointless without [Hamlet]” (111). The Player tells him that he and Rosencrantz should keep heading towards England and deliver the letter to the King. Rosencrantz’s attempts to break the tension through conversation and betting games only infuriate Guildenstern, who states that the two of them have nothing to say to the King and that he does not believe in England. Rosencrantz points out that they still have the letter, which might come in handy. The two friends discover that the original letter has been replaced with a new one that calls for their own execution instead of Hamlet’s.
Deeply distraught, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern ask the Player why they are significant enough to be sentenced to death. The Player states, “In [actors’] experience, most things end in death” (114). Unsettled by the Player’s blasé response, Guildenstern retorts, “I’m talking about death—and you’ve never experienced that” (114) and stabs the Player with a dagger. The Player does not die, however, since the dagger is a prop. As the Tragedians mime other kinds of deaths, Guildenstern insists that death is not a romantic game.
The light goes upstage, and the audience can only see Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Rosencrantz wonders if the two of them could “just stay put” (116). Guildenstern mournfully remarks that they missed their opportunity to escape their fate and looks around to see that Rosencrantz is no longer on stage with him. He says that the two of them will “know better next time” (117). Guildenstern disappears, and the entire stage is lit up to reveal the corpses of Claudius, Gertrude, Laertes, and Hamlet lying on the floor of Elsinore. Horatio is cradling Hamlet’s body. Two ambassadors enter, and one of them tells Horatio that “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead” (117). The play ends with Horatio reciting the last lines of Hamlet as the music swells to the point of drowning out his monologue.
The play’s discourse about living and dying becomes more apparent in Act III as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern discover they are going to die. The act begins with a dialogue on what it means to know one is alive. Rosencrantz wonders if the two of them are “finished” (89) or dead, but Guildenstern proclaims that they cannot be dead because they are still present in the world and possess basic faculties that allow for thinking and feeling. Guildenstern’s insistence that thinking entails existing resembles the philosopher René Descartes’s famous proclamation “I think, therefore I am.” It also resembles Hamlet’s famous line, “there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” The concept of perception entailing existence also recalls another tenet of existentialism. According to Sartre, all individuals can know is a posteriori knowledge, meaning knowledge that comes from experiencing things within one’s environment through the senses. By asking Rosencrantz if he can still feel, Guildenstern casts tactile sensation as proof that one is a living being, much like existentialists would argue.
The discourse on existence and death reemerges when Rosencrantz wonders if “death could possibly be on a boat” (100). He wants to know if the trajectory towards death is similar to the state of being on a boat since, according to Guildenstern, being on a boat entails being passivity as the vessel leads passengers to their destination. Guildenstern counters Rosencrantz by saying, “No, no, no…Death is…not. Death isn’t. You take my meaning. Death is the ultimate negative. Not-being. You can’t not-be on a boat” (100). For Guildenstern, death cannot be like being on a boat since death is a state of nonexistence. A person can experience being on a boat, but they cannot experience being dead since the senses are no longer functional once one is dead. Guildenstern reiterates his belief that death is not experienceable when the Player says, “In our experience, most things end in death” (114). Guildenstern rejects the idea that actors can convincingly perform the act of dying since “even as [actors] die [they] know that [they] will come back in a different hat” (114). Guildenstern thinks real death is permanent non-experiencing while an actor’s death is a temporary performance. He tries to prove his point by stabbing the Player, but the Player’s survival proves that staged death is the only convincing death and the only kind of death a character in their fictional universe can experience. The Player deliberately sends a message: Guildenstern, being fictional, will never get to experience real death, so he should not comment on what it is like.
Rosencrantz has thoughts on existence and experience as well. He exhibits an empirical ontology when he proclaims that he does not believe in England. His disbelief stems from never having been to England. He tries to imagine an idyllic image of England, but his “mind remains a blank” (100) because he requires previous experience with the country to build this image. He does not have the necessary experience, meaning that England is unimaginable, non-experienceable, and subsequently unreal to him. Being a pragmatist, Rosencrantz navigates life through practical knowledge and experience. This practicality may seem sensible, but it leads to absurdity as he doubts the existence of real things simply because he lacks direct experience with them.
Held captive by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Hamlet takes on a more active role in Act III. He tricks his former companions by escaping and switching Claudius’s letter with one sentencing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to death. Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Claudius, and Gertrude doubt Hamlet’s sanity throughout the play, but his actions in Act III call this doubt into question. His ability to pull off his escape suggest some level of sanity. In addition to being saner than previously thought, Hamlet may have a similar level of awareness as the Player. At one point in Act III, he acknowledges the audience by gazing directly at it and spitting in its direction. This acknowledgement points towards some sort of knowledge of his own status as a character in a play. His cunning and self-awareness strengthen his character.
The play ends with the suggestion that Guildenstern knows he is fictional. Before he disappears from the stage to meet his fate, he mournfully utters his last words: “Well, we’ll know better next time” (117). “Next time” may refer to the next time the play is performed. However, his realization means nothing when the play restarts, since he goes back to fumbling through the same tasks and making the same choices as the script decrees. Rosencrantz’s and Guildenstern’s whole lives have been predetermined; they cannot escape their fate, and they cannot know better next time.
By Tom Stoppard