From THE SONG FROM HAMLET’S WOUND:

KING FENRIR: [Alone] If he could be found to be mad, he would only receive an iron collar and a length of chain, like any yard dog. No matter what he said it would be received as gibberish. But no. He is too much the master of his mind, therefore of his speech. The depths of what he might say could be seen through. Still, this avenue must be considered. The only other way has pitfalls, too. That is to kill him. This needs thinking on. [Goes off].
HAMLET: [Coming from behind the curtain] He needs one of two things: a label of craziness to cover me, or a few feet of dirt. For the moment I choose craziness. Within that duration I could, with God’s help, make my case, and have a greater latitude to do it. [Recites]
A sweet madness, yes!
To catch a king,
A treacly lure
To hold him fast.

He shall be held
Like an ant in amber,
Like a mouses skull
In owl shit!
[Runs out].


From GOD’S FOOL: the story of Sir Thomas More:

MORE. I remain the King’s good servant, but God’s first.


From ELIZABETH AND ALEXANDRA:

NICHOLAS. A war within and a war without, and both going badly. A war in the east and now — a war on my doorstep and I was not at home: a rout and a riot on the bridges of Saint Petersburg. A hundred thousand marching feet set up a thunder, to be interrupted by the crackle of guns. And men with their wives and wives with their children were cut down, as wreathes of steam rose from their blood in the frigid air. They called to me and they got back bullets. They sang to God, “God, save the Tsar”, and God did save him; but to what end? Ninety-three of my trusting people died, and a thousand more savaged and hospitalized. And I, the Father-Tsar, embodiment of my beloved country, am accountable, though I gave no firing order. The magnitude of my position pronounces me guilty. The mystic unity I am supposed to have with my people has been terribly rent. The premise into which I was born seems to elude me. I am no near-God. Yet I am held to that height. And I fall from that height. No president or prime minister assumes such a fund of guilt. England remains crippled by strikes, but her prime minister is not so vilified, no one sees him as the embodiment of England; not even the constitutional monarchy is seen as such. And in the United States, the total number of protesting workers gunned down exceeds even mine, and yet their president is not held to such blame and suddenly hated. But I, the Tsar, and the people are one. That has been God’s gift to the people of Russia, taxed but never torn. Till now. How then had I had so little inkling of the mind of my workers and the mind of my guards and the malice of my council?