Drama Books
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Charles Mair
SCENE FIRST.—THE FOREST NEAR THE PROPHET'S TOWN ON THE TIPPECANOE. Enter the PROPHET. PROPHET. Twelve moons have wasted, and no tidings still! Tecumseh must have perished! Joy has tearsAs well as grief, and mine will freely flow—Sembling our women's piteous privilege—Whilst dry ambition ambles to its ends.My schemes have swelled to greatness, and my nameHas flown so far upon the wings...
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SCENE: A large room with a door at the back and another at the side opening to an inner room. A desk and a chair in the middle. An hour-glass on a bracket near the door. A creepy stool near it. Some benches. The WISE MAN sitting at his desk. WISE MAN [turning over the pages of a book]. Where is that passage I am to explain to my pupils to-day? Here it is, and the book says that it was written by a...
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by:
Moliere
ACT I. SCENE I.——VALÈRE, ÉLISE. Val. What, dear Élise! you grow sad after having given me such dear tokens of your love; and I see you sigh in the midst of my joy! Can you regret having made me happy? and do you repent of the engagement which my love has forced from you? Eli. No, Valère, I do not regret what I do for you; I feel carried on by too delightful a power, and I do not even wish that...
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by:
Robert Dodsley
PREFACE. After the lapse of about half a century since the issue of the last edition of Dodsley's Select Collection of Old Plays,[1] and the admittance of that work into the honourable rank of scarce and dear books, it seemed a desirable thing to attempt, with such additional improvements as might be practicable or expedient, a revival of a publication which has been a favourite with the lovers of...
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"The crescendo of quarrel is most skilfully and drolly arranged;— scene on classic lines boldly challenging and, what is more, maintaining comparison with Sheridan." Mr. A. B. Walkley—The London Times. "This new play, by Mr. Henry Arthur Jones, at The Haymarket, is surely as good a comedy as he has ever written. I should say, in evaluating Mr. Jones, that his greatest asset is his...
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by:
John Galsworthy
ACT I SCENE I The study of JOHN BUILDER in the provincial town of Breconridge.A panelled room wherein nothing is ever studied, except perhapsBUILDER'S face in the mirror over the fireplace. It is, however,comfortable, and has large leather chairs and a writing table in thecentre, on which is a typewriter, and many papers. At the back is alarge window with French outside shutters, overlooking the...
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INTRODUCTION Encouraged by the reviewer who announced that the Introduction to my previous collection of plays was the best part of the book, I venture to introduce this collection in a similar manner. But I shall be careful not to overdo it this time, in the hope that I may win from my critic some such tribute as, "Mr. Milne has certainly improved as a dramatist, in that his plays are now slightly...
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by:
Bernard Shaw
The forenoon of the first of April, 1911. General Mitchener is at his writing table in the War Office, opening letters. On his left is the fireplace, with a fire burning. On his right, against the opposite wall is a standing desk with an office stool. The door is in the wall behind him, half way between the table and the desk. The table is not quite in the middle of the room: it is nearer to the...
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by:
Bernard Shaw
As will be seen later on, Pygmalion needs, not a preface, but a sequel, which I have supplied in its due place. The English have no respect for their language, and will not teach their children to speak it. They spell it so abominably that no man can teach himself what it sounds like. It is impossible for an Englishman to open his mouth without making some other Englishman hate or despise him. German...
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by:
John Drinkwater
SCENE ICromwell'shouse at Ely, about the year 1639. An early summer evening. The window of the room opens on to a smooth lawn, used for bowling, and a garden full of flowers.Oliver'swife,Elizabeth Cromwell, is sitting at the table, sewing. In a chair by the open windowMrs. Cromwell, his mother, is reading. She is eighty years of age.Mrs. Cromwell:Oliver troubles me, persuading everywhere....
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