Reading the Play
IF you happen to be a dramatist, or are thinking of becoming one, I should advise you not to make a habit of being present at the first reading of the play. For the impression received is absolutely crushing. Six or eight players gather together: they look tired to death; they yawn, feel cold, stand or sit about in groups, and cough sotto voce. This gloomy and depressing state of affairs continues for quite half an hour, until, finally, the producer cries: “Come, ladies and gentlemen, let us begin.”
The company, bored to extinction, seats itself round a rickety table.
“The Pilgrim’s Staff; A Comedy in Three Acts,” the producer reads out, whereupon another individual hurriedly mumbles, “A modest, middle-class room. To the right a
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