The world's a stage. The trifling entrance fee Is paid (by proxy) to the registrar. The Orchestra is very loud and free But plays no music in particular.
They do not print a programme, that I know. The caste is large. There isn't any plot. The acting of the piece is far below The very worst of modernistic rot.
The only part about it I enjoy Is what was called in English the Foyay. There will I stand apart awhile and toy With thought, and set my cigarette alight ; And then — without returning to the play — On with my coat and out into the night.
