Interior location - The Grand Central dining room.


Merrick: "May I say, Mr. Langrishe, that I am much in your debt for taking of your time to keep the readers of The Pioneer informed about the finer things of life such as the theater, art, and acting in which, with all due modesty, I must confess to having dabbled in the past, though strictly as a budding amateur."

Langrishe: "Yes, Mr. Merrick, I seem to recall you making mention of this when first we met on the day our weary troupe arrived, slowly descending from these great Black Hills."

Merrick: "And a great day that was for me as well."

Langrishe: "You are too kind."

Merrick: "I simply speak the truth."

(Richardson arrives, silently places plates of food on the table, and obsequiously backs away.)

Langrishe: "Such a face!"

Merrick: "Richardson?"

Langrishe: "He has the look of a character born in Shakespeare's time."

(Merrick glances at Richardson and is for a second at a loss for words.)

Merrick: "May I ask, Sir, if you might be so kind as to offer some insights into the creative process - in particular, how authors and actors are so inspired?"

Langrishe: "That, Mr. Merrick, is a question which I have considered now for many years. The ancients spoke of daimons which inspired. There is no amusement without the muse. Writers create, and their words proceed forth and are made flesh by actors who become the incarnate expressions of those words, so much so, I am left to wonder if there is a moment when characters become living creatures independent of their creator. And might such a creature become in its own right a living thing?"

Merrick: And cry "Subsisto!"

Langrishe: "Yes! Yes, I exist. Most writers will allow that they are led by characters that in turn drive the plot, the creature becoming the creator."

Merrick: "And might such characters continue to live on long past the final curtain call?"

Langrishe: "I think they do. In fact, I think they must, to be enjoyed forever and anon."