- What a shambles! We're just not getting anywhere! I don't believe in it anyway. - In what? - England. - Just a conspiracy of cartographers, you mean? - I mean I don't believe it! And even if it's true, the King of England won't know what we're taking about. What are we going to say? - We say your majesty, we have arrived. - And who are you? - We are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. - Never heard of you! - Well, we're nobody special. - What's your game? - We have our instructions... - First I've heard of it. - Let me finish! We've come from Denmark. - What do you want? - Nothing! We're delivering Hamlet... - Who's he? - You've heard of him. - Oh, I've heard of him all right, and I want nothing to do with it. You march in here without so much as a by your leave and expect me to take in every lunatic you try to pass off with a lot of unsubstantiated… - We've got a letter! - I see... I see...Well, this seems to support your story. Such as it is... it is an exact command from the King of Denmark for several different reasons, importing Denmark's health and England's too, that on the reading of this letter, without delay, I should have Hamlet's head cut off!