  Among the plays which seem specially to require a sequel, “Hamlet” must certainly be reckoned. The end of Act V. left the distracted kingdom of Denmark bereft alike of King, Queen, and Heir-Presumptive. There were thus all the materials for an acute political crisis. It might have been imagined that the crown would fall inevitably to the Norwegian Prince Fortinbras who, being on the spot with an army behind him, certainly seems to have neglected his chances. It is clear, however, from the sequel that Fortinbras failed to rise to the occasion, and that Horatio, being more an antique Roman than a Dane, seized his opportunity and by a coup d’État got possession of the vacant throne. Nor would Fortinbras appear to have resented this, as we find him subsequently visiting Horatio at Elsinore. There is, however, a Nemesis which waits upon Usurpers, as the sequel shows. The sequel, by the way, should have been called “Ghosts,” but that title has been already appropriated by a lesser dramatist. THE NEW WING AT ELSINORE.Scene I.—The Platform before the old part of the Castle as in Act I. Horatio and Fortinbras come out of the house swathed in overcoats, the former looking nervously over his shoulder. It is a dark winter’s evening after dinner. Fortinbras. [Shivering slightly.] ’Tis bitter cold—— Horatio. [Impatiently.] And you are sick at heart. I know. Fortinbras. [Apologetically.] The fact is, when I get a cold I often can’t get rid of it for weeks. I really think we may as well stay in. Horatio. [Doggedly.] I’m sorry, but I can’t agree with you. I shall sit here. [Sits down resolutely with his back to the castle. Fortinbras. [Turning up his coat collar resignedly.] It’s perfect rot, you know, To let yourself be frightened by a Ghost! Horatio. [Angrily.] A Ghost! You’re always so inaccurate! Nobody minds a spectre at the feast Less than Horatio, but a dozen spectres, All sitting round your hospitable board And clamouring for dinner, are a sight No one can bear with equanimity. Of course, I know it’s different for you. You don’t believe in ghosts!... Ugh, what was that? Fortinbras. Nothing. Horatio. I’m sure I saw a figure moving there. Fortinbras. Absurd! It’s far too dark to see at all. [Argumentatively.] After all, what are ghosts? In the most high and palmy state of Rome A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, And let us make ourselves as comfortable As this inclement atmosphere permits. Horatio. [Despondently.] I’d ring with pleasure, if I thought the bell Had any prospect of being answered. But as there’s not a servant in the house—— Fortinbras. [Annoyed.] No servants? Horatio. [Bitterly.]As my genial friend, Macbeth, Would probably have put it, “Not a maid Is left this vault to brag of.” In other words, They left en masse this morning. Fortinbras. Dash it all! Something is rotten in the state of Denmark When you, its reigning monarch, cannot keep Your servants for a week. Horatio. [Sadly.]Ah, Fortinbras, You’d find your servants would give warning too. It’s not as if we only had one ghost. They simply swarm! [Ticking them off on his fingers.] There’s Hamlet’s father. He walks the battlements from ten to five. You’ll see him here in half an hour or so. Claudius, the late King, haunts the State apartments, The Queen the keep, Ophelia the moat, And Rosencrantz and Guildenstern the hall. Polonius you will usually find Behind the arras murmuring platitudes, And Hamlet stalking in the corridors. Alas, poor ghost! his fatal indecision Pursues him still. He can’t make up his mind Which rooms to take—you’re never safe from him! Fortinbras. But why object to meeting Hamlet’s Ghost? I’ve heard he was a most accomplished Prince, A trifle fat and scant of breath, perhaps; But then a disembodied Hamlet Would doubtless show a gratifying change In that respect. Horatio. [Irritably.]I tell you, Fortinbras, It’s not at all a theme for joking. I shall move in, and all the ghosts in limbo May settle here as far as I’m concerned. E. J. Wheeler. “And Hamlet stalking in the corridors.” Fortinbras. When will that be? Horatio. The architect declares He’ll have the roof on by the end of March. Fortinbras. [Rising briskly.] It is a nipping and an eager air. Suppose we stroll and see it? Horatio. [Rising also.]With all my heart. Indeed, I think we’d better go at once. [Looks at watch. The Ghost of Hamlet’s father’s almost due. His morbid love of punctuality Makes him arrive upon the stroke of ten, And as the castle clock is always fast He’s rather apt to be before his time. [The clock begins to strike as they exeunt hastily. On the last stroke, Ghost enters. Ghost. I am Hamlet’s father’s spirit, Doomed for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day.... [Stops, seeing no one there. What! Nobody about? Why, this is positively disrespectful. I’ll wait until Horatio returns And, when I’ve got him quietly alone, I will a tale unfold will make him jump! [Sits down resolutely to wait for Horatio. Scene II.—Before the New Wing of the Castle. The two Clowns, formerly grave-diggers but now employed with equal appropriateness as builders, are working on the structure in the extremely leisurely fashion to be expected of artizans who are not members of a Trades Union. 1st Clown. [In his best Elizabethan manner.] Nay, but hear you, goodman builder—— 2nd Clown. [In homely vernacular.] Look here, Bill, you can drop that jargon. There’s no one here but ourselves, and I ain’t amused by it. It’s all very well to try it on when 1st Clown. [Puzzled.] Ay, marry! 2nd Clown. [Throwing down tools.] Stow it, I say, or I’ll have to make you. Marry, indeed! If you mean “Yes,” say “Yes.” If you mean “No,” say “No.” 1st Clown. All right, mate. 2nd Clown. [Grumbling.] It’s bad enough staying up all night building more rooms on to this confounded castle—I should have thought it was big enough and ugly enough without our additions—but if I’m to listen to your gab, s’help me——! 1st Clown. Hush! here comes some one. [They make a valiant pretence of work as Horatio and Fortinbras enter. Horatio. [Ecstatically, completely deceived by this simple ruse.] My Master-Builders! Fortinbras. Idle dogs! 1st Clown. [Elizabethan again.] Argal, goodman builder, will he nill he, he that builds not ill builds well, and he that builds not well builds ill. Therefore, perpend! Horatio. [Appreciatively.] How absolute the knave is! Fortinbras. He seems to me to be an absolute fool. Horatio. Not at all. A most intelligent working man. I’ll draw him out. [To 1st Clown.] When will the house be finished, sirrah? 1st Clown. When it is done, Sir. Horatio. Ay, fool, and when will that be? 1st Clown. When it is finished, o’ course. Horatio. [To Fortinbras. I call it perfectly idiotic, if you ask me. Horatio. Well, well; we’ll try again. [To 1st Clown.] And whose is the house, fellow? 1st Clown. [Fatuously.] Marry, his that owns it. Ask another. Horatio. [To Fortinbras.] Ha! Ha! Good again. By the Lord, Fortinbras, as Hamlet used to say, the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, it galls his kibe. Fortinbras. [Savagely.] The toe of the courtier is getting so perilously near the person of the peasant that you’d better get rid of the latter as soon as possible. Horatio. [Doubtfully.] Perhaps you’re right. And yet I was always taught to consider that kind of thing awfully entertaining. But, there. Fashions Fortinbras. [Giving them money.] Away with you, fellows. Go and get drunk. [Exeunt clowns. Horatio. [Relapses into blank verse on their departure.] What think you of the New Wing, Fortinbras? The whole effect is cheerful, is it not? Good large sash windows, lots of light and air; No mediÆval nonsense. Fortinbras. [Who does not admire the building.] So I see! Horatio. No ghosts here, eh, to stalk about the rooms And fade against the crowing of the cock? Fortinbras. Probably not—and, yet—look there, Horatio; There’s something in the shadow over there, Moving towards the house. It’s going in. Stop it, Horatio. Horatio. [Furious.]Here, I can’t stand this. I’ll cross it though it blast me. Stay, Illusion! [The figure stops. Are you aware, Sir, that you’re trespassing? This is a private house. Ghost. [In a sepulchral voice.] My private house! Horatio. Oh, come, you know, you can’t mean that! Your house? Considering that I’m building it myself— Of course, assisted by an architect— I think you must admit there’s some mistake. Ghost. [Turning and advancing towards them.] Pooh! What do I care for your architect? It’s mine, I say, my house, my plot, my play. I made them all! Horatio. Oh, my prophetic soul! Shakspeare! Ghost. The same. Horatio. I say, confound it all, Do you propose to haunt the castle too? Ghost. Yes, the New Wing. Horatio. It’s really much too bad. You’ve filled the old part of the house with spectres; I think you might have left the new to me. Fortinbras. That seems a reasonable compromise. Ghost. I shall stay here; make up your mind to that, But if you like to share the Wing with me I’ve no objection. Horatio. [Stiffly.]Thanks, I’d rather not. I shall consult with my solicitor, And if he can’t eject you from the place I’ll sell it, ghosts and all! Come, Fortinbras. [Exit with dignity. Curtain. |
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