Why I won’t play Hamlet ever again

A one-act play by Sanjeev Mohan

Scene: A one-bedroom-hall apartment with all the paraphernalia of middle class life visible: wooden furniture, a battered TV set, pots and pans near a kitchen sink. A middle-aged man appears to be looking for a book. He finds it and proceeds towards an old armchair. He is around 50, balding, with spectacles perched on his nose. As he sits down, we notice that he is reading The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. He starts as if he has heard a knock on the door. The entire speech is a soliloquy, spoken as if another person is present but we see no one.

MAN: Come in. O, it's you. Come in. What brings you here? This (indicates the book in his hand)? I'm just re-reading my Shakespeare. Yes, indeed, it's still my Shakespeare. After all, what else would a poor accountant know. I haven't the benefits of your kind education, have I? Oxford … No, no, not that. Let me remember, ah yes, Pennsylvania … no? Well, then Columbia? Sorry, I said I'm sorry, didn't I? You still haven't learned to take a joke.

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