Prompter. Take it down in shorthand?

The Manager [pleasantly surprised ]. Exactly! Can you do shorthand?

Prompter. Yes, a little.

The Manager. Good! [Turning to a STAGE HAND.] Go and get some paper from my office, plenty, as much as you can find. [The STAGE HAND goes off, and soon returns with a handful of paper which he gives to the PROMPTER.]

The Manager [to PROMPTER]. You follow the scenes as we play them, and try and get the points down, at any rate the most important ones. [Then addressing the ACTORS.] Clear the stage, ladies and gentlemen! Come over here [Pointing to the left. ] and listen attentively.

Leading Lady. But, excuse me, we . . .

The Manager [guessing her thought ]. Don't worry! You won't have to improvise.

Leading Man. What have we to do then?

The Manager. Nothing. For the moment you just watch and listen. Everybody will get his part written out afterwards. At present we're going to try the thing as best we can. They're going to act now.

The Father [as if fallen from the clouds into the confusion of the stage ]. We? What do you mean, if you please, by a rehearsal?

The Manager. A rehearsal for them. [Points to the ACTORS.]

The Father. But since we are the characters . . .

The Manager. All right: "characters" then, if you insist on calling yourselves such. But here, my dear sir, the characters don't act. Here the actors do the acting. The characters are there, in the "book" [Pointing towards PROMPTER'S box. ] – when there is a "book"!

The Father. I won't contradict you; but excuse me, the actors aren't the characters. They want to be, they pretend to be, don't they? Now if these gentlemen here are fortunate enough to have us alive before them . . .

The Manager. Oh this is grand! You want to come before the public yourselves then?

The Father. As we are . . .

The Manager. I can assure you it would be a magnificent spectacle!

Leading Man. What's the use of us here anyway then?

The Manager. You're not going to pretend that you can act? It makes me laugh! [The ACTORS laugh. ] There, you see, they are laughing at the notion. But, by the way, I must cast the parts. That won't be difficult. They cast themselves. [To the SECOND LADY LEAD.] You play the Mother. [To the FATHER.] We must find her a name.

The Father. Amalia, sir.

The Manager. But that is the real name of your wife. We don't want to call her by her real name.

The Father. Why ever not, if it is her name? . . . Still, perhaps, if that lady must . . . [Makes a slight motion of the hand to indicate the SECOND LADY LEAD.] I see this woman here [Means the MOTHER.] as Amalia. But do as you like. [Gets more and more confused. ] I don't know what to say to you. Already, I begin to hear my own words ring false, as if they had another sound . . .

The Manager. Don't you worry about it. It'll be our job to find the right tones. And as for her name, if you want her Amalia, Amalia it shall be; and if you don't like it, we'll find another! For the moment though, we'll call the characters in this way: [To JUVENILE LEAD.] You are the Son. [To the LEADING LADY.] You naturally are the Step-Daughter . . .

The Step-Daughter [excitedly ]. What? What? I, that woman there? [Bursts out laughing. ]

The Manager [angry ]. What is there to laugh at?

Leading Lady[indignant ]. Nobody has ever dared to laugh at me. I insist on being treated with respect; otherwise I go away.

The Step-Daughter. No, no, excuse me . . . I am not laughing at you . . .

The Manager [to STEP-DAUGHTER]. You ought to feel honored to be played by . . .

Leading Lady[at once, contemptuously ]. "That woman there" . . .

The Step-Daughter. But I wasn't speaking of you, you know. I was speaking of myself – whom I can't see at all in you! That is all. I don't know . . . But . . . You . . . Aren't in the least like me . . .

The Father. True. Here's the point. Look here, sir, our temperaments, our souls . . .

The Manager. Temperament, soul, be hanged! Do you suppose the spirit of the piece is in you? Nothing of the kind!

The Father. What, haven't we our own temperaments, our own souls?

The Manager. Not at all. Your soul or whatever you like to call it takes shape here. The actors give body and form to it, voice and gesture. And my actors – I may tell you – have given expression to much more lofty material than this little drama of yours, which may or may not hold up on the stage. But if it does, the merit of it, believe me, will be due to my actors.

The Father. I don't dare contradict you, sir; but, believe me, it is a terrible suffering for us who are as we are, with these bodies of ours, these features to see . . .

The Manager [cutting him short and out of patience ]. Good heavens! The make-up will remedy all that, man, the make-up . . .

The Father. Maybe. But the voice, the gestures . . .

The Manager. Now, look here! On the stage, you as yourself, cannot exist. The actor here acts you, and that's an end to it!

The Father. I understand. And now I think I see why our author who conceived us as we are, all alive, didn't want to put us on the stage after all. I haven't the least desire to offend your actors. Far from it! But when I think that I am to be acted by . . . I don't know by whom . . .

Leading Man [on his dignity ]. By me, if you've no objection!

The Father [humbly, melliflously ]. Honored, I assure you, sir. [Bows. ] Still, I must say that try as this gentleman may, with all his good will and wonderful art, to absorb me into himself . . .

Leading Man. Oh chuck it! "wonderful art!" withdraw that, please!

The Father. The performance he will give, even doing his best with make-up to look like me . . .

Leading Man. It will certainly be a bit difficult! [The ACTORS laugh. ]

The Father. Exactly! It will be difficult to act me as I really am. The effect will be rather – apart from the make-up – according as to how he supposes I am, as he senses me – if he does sense me – and not as I inside of myself feel myself to be. It seems to me then that account should be taken of this by everyone whose duty it may become to criticize us . . .

The Manager. Heavens! The man's starting to think about the critics now! Let them say what they like. It's up to us to put on the play if we can. [Looking around. ] Come on! Come on! Is the stage set? [To the ACTORS and CHARACTERS.] Stand back – stand back! Let me see, and don't let's lose any more time! [To the STEP-DAUGHTER.] Is it all right as it is now?

The Step-Daughter. Well, to tell the truth, I don't recognize the scene.

The Manager. My dear lady, you can't possibly suppose that we can construct that shop of Madame Pace piece by piece here? [To the FATHER.] You said a white room with flowered wall paper, didn't you?

The Father. Yes.

The Manager. Well then. We've got the furniture right more or less. Bring that little table a bit further forward. [The STAGE HANDS obey the order. To PROPERTY MAN.] You go and find an envelope, if possible, a pale blue one; and give it to that gentleman. [Indicates FATHER.]

Property Man. An ordinary envelope?

Manager and Father. yes, yes, an ordinary envelope.