Man of the World.. Then followed some years of experiment in the scientific manufacture and blending of drama. As I speak, no less than twenty-three factories dot the grassy meads of America. The work is done by clerks employed at moderate salaries for eight hours a day. For the cerebration of whatever new ideas may be needed, several French literary men are kept in chains in the backyard, being fed exclusively on absinthe and caviare sandwiches during their periods of creative activity. No less than forty different brands of drama are turned out, each with its description stamped clearly on the can. While a complete equipment for anyone can be travelled by the operator in his valise, still leaving room for toothbrush and slumber-suit.
Clown.. Do the public like the stuff?
Man of the World.. They've got to like it. They get none else.
Clown.. Can't you give us another chance? I'll lay we could make good.
Man of the World.. Sorry, sonny, but I don't see how you'd fit in. Watch this attraction I'm going to try over.
Clown.. You still rehearse, do you?
Man of the World.. Once. Would you like to watch? Then you'll see.
Clown.. What's it called?
Man of the World.. It's called "Love: a Disease", and it's Number seventy-six of the High Brow Ibsen series. It ain't got nothing to do with Ibsen really, but his is still a name that sells. He was a German professor of mathematics and highly respected in his day. I'll have you see a bit of one act.
Columbine.. What's the plot?