LEUTNER.

The strange actor, of course, the great man.

MUeLLER.

Indeed?  But how can they possibly play such nonsense?

LEUTNER.

For a change, the author thinks.

FISCHER.

A fine change, why not Bluebeard too, and Prince Kobold?  Indeed!  Some excellent subjects for the drama!

MUeLLER.

But how are they going to dress the cat?—­And I wonder whether he wears real boots?

LEUTNER.

I am just as impatient as all of you.

FISCHER.

But shall we really have such stuff played to us?  We’ve come here out of curiosity, to be sure, but still we have taste.

MUeLLER.

I feel like making a noise.

LEUTNER.

It’s rather cold, too.  I’ll make a start. (He stamps with his feet, the others fall in.)

WIESENER (on the other side).

What does this pounding mean?

LEUTNER.

That’s to rescue good taste.

WIESENER.

Well, then I won’t be the last, either. (He stamps.)

VOICES.

Be quiet, or you can’t hear the music. (All are stamping.)

SCHLOSS.

But, I say, we really ought to let them go through the play, for, after all, we’ve given our money anyhow; afterward we’ll pound so they’ll hear us out doors.

ALL.

No, they’ll now—­taste—­rules—­art—­otherwise everything will go to ruin.

A CANDLE-SNUFFER.

Gentlemen, shall the police be sent in?

LEUTNER.

We have paid, we represent the public, and therefore we will have our own good taste and no farces.

THE PLAYWRIGHT (behind the scenes).

The play will begin immediately.

MUeLLER.

No play—­we want no play—­we want good taste—­

ALL.

Good taste! good taste!

PLAYWR.

I am puzzled—­what do you mean, if I may ask?

SCHLOSS.

Good taste!  Are you an author and don’t even know what good taste means?

PLAYWR.

Consider a young beginner—­

SCHLOSS.

We want to know nothing about beginners—­we want to see a decent play-a play in good taste!

PLAYWR.

What sort?  What kind?

MUeLLER.

Domestic stories—­elopements—­brothers and sisters from the country—­something like that.

      [The Author comes out from behind the curtain.]

PLAYWR.

Gentlemen—­

ALL.

Is that the author?

FISCHER.

He doesn’t look much like an author.

SCHLOSS.

Impertinent fellow!

MUeLLER.

His hair isn’t even trimmed.

PLAYWR.

Gentlemen-pardon my boldness.

FISCHER.

How can you write such plays?  Why haven’t you trained yourself?