[Rosencrantz]: Hamlet is not himself, outside or in. We have to glean what afflicts him.

[Guildenstern]: He doesn’t give much away.

[Player]: Who does, nowadays?

[Guil]: He’s–melancholy.

[Player]: Melancholy?

[Ros]: Mad.

[Player]: How is he mad?

[Ros]: Ah. (To Guil:) How is he mad?

[Guil]: More morose than mad, perhaps.

[Player]: Melancholy.

[Guil]: Moody.

[Ros]: He has moods.

[Player]: Of moroseness?

[Guil]: Madness. And yet.

[Ros]: Quite.

[Guil]: For instance.

[Ros]: He talks to himself, which might be madness.

[Guil]: If he didn’t talk sense, which he does.

[Ros]: Which suggests the opposite.

[Player]: Of what?

Small pause.

[Guil]: I think I have it. A man talking sense to himself is no madder than a man talking nonesense not to himself.

[Ros]: Or just as mad.

[Guil]: Or just as mad.

[Ros]: And he does both.

[Guil]: So there you are.

[Ros]: Stark raving sane.

– Tom Stoppard in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead