thespian art

In every city, and almost every town of the civilized world, there is some sort of a theatre; many of them are truly temples of the Thespian art; invention has racked its brains to supply original and costly adjuncts to the drama in the way of scenery and mechanical devices; realism has run mad in its efforts to produce novel illusions and startling stage effects.

But there are poorer followers of the Thespian art who are in very bad case indeed, owing to this tribute to religious scruple.

How, or what, had ever induced a pair of as common-place, matter-of-fact folk, as ever lived, to take to the Thespian art, heaven can tell.

Orlando B. Sturge is my name, sir, and familiar—as I may say without vanity—wherever the Thespian art is honoured.

He was wrestling with hideous melodrama, often described to him by patrons of Thespian art at transpontine theatres.