GUILDENSTERN        The Queen your mother in most great affliction of spirit hath sent me to you.

HAMLET         You are welcome.

GUILDENSTERN        Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother’s commandment. If not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of business.

HAMLET         Sir, I cannot.

ROSENCRANTZ          What, my lord?

HAMLET         Make you a wholesome answer. My wit’s diseased. But, sir, such answer as I can make you shall command. Or rather, as you say, my mother. Therefore no more. But to the matter – my mother, you say?

ROSENCRANTZ          Then thus she says. Your behaviour hath struck her into amazement and admiration.             (3.2.303-318)

Guildenstern pushes on, Rosencrantz remaining silent, perhaps not making eye contact, perhaps offering moral support, nodding, smiling: the Queen your mother in most great affliction of spirit hath sent me to you. Your mother’s really upset too! I’m here at her request! Well then, you are welcome. Hi! Guildenstern’s starting to get really frustrated, angry, upset: nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. You don’t understand! You’re not helping! If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer—if you’ll engage with what I’m asking, take me seriously—I will do your mother’s commandment. If you calm down, I’ll give you her message! If not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of business. I can’t do this anymore, one more snide evasion from you and I’m done, I’m out of here.

Hamlet might seem to be engaging? Sir, I cannot. But it’s a puzzling answer; he cannot what? What, my lord?Rosencrantz has a go, Guildenstern just can’t anymore. Oh, I can’t make you a wholesome answer. My wit’s diseased. I’m mad, of course I’m not making any sense! But, sir, such answer as I can make you shall command. Go on, I’m listening, ask away, I’ll answer! Or rather, as you say, my mother. It’s my mother who commands, not you; I’m not doing anything YOU ask. Therefore no more. But to the matter—my mother, you say? Let’s get on with this (and punning on matter and mater, mother): what’s up with my mother? Then thus she says, replies Rosencrantz, preparing to report verbatim. Your behaviour hath struck her into amazement and admiration. She’s shocked, confused, doesn’t know what to think!