Music of the hautboys is under the stage

SECOND SOLDIER     Peace, what noise?

FIRST SOLDIER          List, list!

SECOND SOLDIER Hark!

FIRST SOLDIER Music i’th’ air.

THIRD SOLDIER        Under the earth.

FOURTH SOLDIER     It signs well, does it not?

THIRD SOLDIER No.

FIRST SOLDIER Peace, I say!

What should this mean?

SECOND SOLDIER ’Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony loved,

Now leaves him.

FIRST SOLDIER Walk. Let’s see if other watchmen

Do hear what we do.

SECOND SOLDIER How now, masters?

ALL      [speak together] How now?

How now? Do you hear this?

FIRST SOLDIER Ay. Is’t not strange?

THIRD SOLDIER Do you hear, masters? Do you hear?

FIRST SOLDIER Follow the noise so far as we have quarter.

Let’s see how it will give off.

ALL      Content. ’Tis strange.

Exeunt                                     (4.3.11-21)

 

SPOOKY! Music from under the stage! Reeds, probably, perhaps with other wind instruments, and a sound associated with enchantment (there’s a similar cue in Macbeth). The direction is as unexpected as the sound, and the soldiers are freaked out: shut up, peace, what noise? what is that? listen, listen, listen; hark, list. If the soldiers are spaced out across the stage, then the multidirectional nature of the sound is reinforced: music from below the stage, voices in different parts of the acting area, speaking across each other. Disorienting. There will be torches, a reminder that it’s dark; the soldiers can’t necessarily see each other, or where the music might be coming from. Music i’th’air! The first soldier wants to think of this as a heavenly sign, perhaps, but it’s coming from under the earth, as the third soldier points out. Infernal, dark, chthonic, pertaining to the underworld. The fourth soldier, speaking for the first time (is he the most junior, the most anxious) asks for reassurance: it signs well, does it not?It’s got to be a good sign, a good omen, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? No, says the third, emphatically. Shut up, lad, and get real. Peace, I say: the first soldier doesn’t want them to quarrel, but he also wants to be able to listen, to see if it is indeed possible to work out what’s going on. What should this mean? The second soldier has a theory, and it’s not an encouraging one: ’tis the god Hercules, whom Antony loved, now leaves him. Antony’s patron, his guardian deity, is abandoning him—and so is his strength, which was like that of Hercules. Not good, no. The first soldier wants corroboration, rather than interpretation: walk. Let’s see if other watchmen do hear what we do. Maybe this is just us, maybe it’s not a big thing; let’s go and check with the other guys over there. How now, masters? Cheery, normal: what’s up? Yeah, how now, hey, whatever (jumpy, speaking over each other): do you hear this? Ay, says the first soldier, laconic. Us too. Is’t not strange? The third soldier chips in: do you hear, masters, do you hear? So, everyone can hear it? All of us? What’s going on? What the actual? The first soldier—who seems the senior, on balance—has a plan: follow the noise so far as we have quarter. Let’s go with it—clearly moving around under the stage—in so far as we can, within the terms of our watch. Let’s see how it will give off, to see how it ends. Content. ’Tis strange. And so these anonymous but utterly recognisable soldiers, with a little germ of characterisation in every line, in the dark and on the eve of battle, follow the music and its invisible players offstage…