Strangers on a Time Train
Strangers on a Train a la Shakespeare starring Hamlet and Brutus. Created by Shakespeare/AI/me/my friend.
ACT I
A carriage of a night-train, rushing through darkness. Thunder and rain without. HAMLET sits with a bottle of wine, disheveled. BRUTUS sits opposite, reading a scroll by the dim lamplight.
HAMLET (Aside, looking at his wine) Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well When our deep plots do pall. O God, O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world!
BRUTUS (Looking up from his scroll, observing him) Sir, you minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow. Is there a sickness in your soul, or does The heavy burden of the state oppress you?
HAMLET A little more than kin, and less than kind. A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket! My father's brother— But no more like my father than I to Hercules. He hath murdered my peace. And yet... I do nothing.
BRUTUS (Leaning forward, his interest piqued) Then virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. There is a tinder in your words, young sir. I too am sick with a troubled spirit. I love a man right well—he is my leader— But he would be crowned. How that might change his nature, There’s the question. He grows too great, And we petty men walk under his huge legs To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
HAMLET (Laughs bitterly, pouring more wine) To be, or not to be—that is the question! Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? But the dread of something after death— The undiscovered country—puzzles the will. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.
BRUTUS (Slamming his hand on the table) No! Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devised at first to keep the strong in awe! If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly. If the logic is pure, The deed is not a murder, but a sacrifice! Listen to me, Prince. You have an uncle; I have a Caesar. We are two men bound by a single knot.
HAMLET What say you? What is your philosophy?
BRUTUS Let us swap the stroke of justice! I shall walk into Denmark. I know no personal cause To spurn at your Claudius, but for the general. I can strike him down with cold, unblinking eyes, For he is a usurper, and his blood is forfeit. The world will see no motive in my hand!
HAMLET (Leaning in, erratic, fascinated) And what of your Caesar? What of the colossus?
BRUTUS You shall go to Rome. You do not love him; His eye will not paralyze your arm with affection. You shall put on an antic disposition, Stalk into the Senate, and do the deed. No link, no thread, no trap can hold us! Give me your hand. Between two strangers, a perfect crime.
HAMLET (Staring at Brutus’s hand, terrified yet drawn to the escape) O, that this too too solid flesh would melt! Is this a promise of the night, or a dream of the devil? If I give you my hand...
BRUTUS Then the contract is sealed. It must be by their death!
(The train whistle shrieks. The lights flicker and fade into total darkness.)
ACT II
The Observation Car. The windows no longer show rain, but a swirling, timeless void. HAMLET is pacing the floor, looking at a pocket watch. The door slams open. BRUTUS enters, his Roman toga stained with blood, holding a strange, heavy steel dagger.
HAMLET (Startled) Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Is it you, Senator? Or a spirit of health, or goblin damned? The clock hath struck; the very hours do mock me. Is the deed done? What terror lies in Denmark?
BRUTUS (Grim, breathing heavily) I have done the deed. Claudius is no more. I walked through Elsinore’s dark, frozen halls— A world of iron, strange and terrible— And found him praying. I, with a Roman stroke, Did carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds. He died, and cried out for his northern crown. It was a sacrifice, pure and necessary.
HAMLET (Horrified, backing away) Dead? The King dead? By a hand he knew not? O, my prophetic soul! But... this is a sorry sight. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from your hand? No; this your hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
BRUTUS (Stepping closer, demanding) The blood is on the contract, Prince, not on my soul! I have broken the barriers of years and seas for you. Now, the wheel turns. Rome awaits. The ides of March are come, and Caesar walks To the high Capitol. You must take the midnight track, Fly to my century, and strike the tyrant down! Why do you tremble? Why do you look so pale?
HAMLET (Twisting his hands) I am pigeon-livered and lack gall to make oppression bitter! I do not know why yet I live to say "This thing's to do," Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means To do't. But Caesar... I have seen him in the history books, He is a man, like to myself. To kill him out of time... What if the dream of death should follow me?
BRUTUS (Enraged, seizing Hamlet by the collar) Thou coward! Is this the noble Prince of Denmark? I have given you your vengeance! Your uncle rots! And you would leave Rome to a tyrant’s chains? Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers! If thou wilt not do it, the guilt of Claudius’ blood Shall cling to thee across a thousand winters! You shall have no rest, in your time or mine!
HAMLET (Wrenching himself free) The time is out of joint! O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right! Leave me, Senator! I cannot go!
BRUTUS (Backing toward the carriage door as the train whistle shrieks) Then look to yourself, Hamlet. We shall meet again at Philippi—or Elsinore— Or wherever the tracks do end. I shall be thy evil spirit!
(BRUTUS exits into the swirling void. HAMLET drops to his knees, staring at the bloody floor.)
ACT III
Rome. The Senate House, beneath the towering stone statue of Pompey. The air is hot and thick. HAMLET enters, wearing his heavy, dark Danish furs, looking utterly lost and terrified. BRUTUS steps out from behind a pillar, his sword drawn.
HAMLET (Looking around the grand marble hall) O, whither shall I run? The air of Rome Breathes hot upon my brow. Is this the place? From the mid-forests of the frozen North To this bright, burning engine of the past... I am bound upon a wheel of fire!
BRUTUS (Stepping forward, cold and furious) The clock hath stricken three. Caesar is seated. The daggers are prepared, the senators wait, And yet the hand of Denmark is not here! Thou villain, thou coward! Thou hast deceived my trust, And left me alone with a bloody, hollow crown!
HAMLET (Backing away, holding up his hands) Hear me, Brutus! Give me your pardon. What I have done, that might your nature, honor, And exception roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. I came into your forum, saw your Caesar walk— He is a man of flesh! I cannot strike a man Who never breathed the air of my own country! The conscience of my soul doth bar the blow.
BRUTUS (Dropping his sword in sheer disgust, stepping in with fists clenched) Conscience? Thou muddy-mettled, rascal slave! I broke the laws of nature and of time for thee! I stabbed a king to set thy spirit free, And thou dost answer me with schoolboy rhymes? Thou art as ragged as an old-faced wall, A very coward, a most halting soul!
(BRUTUS strikes HAMLET across the face. HAMLET falls to the marble floor. BRUTUS grabs him by his dark furs, pulling him up and striking him repeatedly.)
HAMLET (Gasping, bleeding on the white stone) O, I am slain! A hit, a very palpable hit! Spare me, Senator... the breath of life fails me...
BRUTUS (Throwing Hamlet violently against the base of Pompey’s statue) Lie there, thou dog! I will not stain my Roman blade With the foul, stagnant water of thy veins. I leave thee here for dead, beneath the feet Of him whom Caesar vanquished. Out, out, brief candle! Thy Princehood is a shadow, A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more.
(BRUTUS spurns HAMLET with his boot, turns on his heel, and strides off toward the Senate chambers to kill Caesar himself. HAMLET lies shattered, bleeding out onto the ancient Roman marble.)
