I write a line to tell you a project we have in view. A little party of
us have taken Miss Kelly's theatre for the night of the 20th of next
month, and we are going to act a play there, with correct and pretty
costume, good orchestra, etc. etc. The affair is strictly private. The
admission will be by cards of invitation; every man will have from
thirty to thirty-five. Nobody can ask any person without the knowledge
and sanction of the rest, my objection being final; and the expense to
each (exclusive of the dress, which every man finds for himself) will
not exceed two guineas. Forster plays, and Stone plays, and I play, and
some of the _Punch_ people play. Stanfield, having the scenery and
carpenters to attend to, cannot manage his part also. It is Downright,
in "Every Man in his Humour," not at all long, but very good; he wants
you to take it. And so help me. We shall have a brilliant audience. The
uphill part of the thing is already done, our next rehearsal is next
Tuesday, and if you will come in you will find everything to your hand,
and all very merry and pleasant.
Let me know what you decide, like a Kittenmolian Trojan. And with love
from all here to all there,
Believe me, ever,
Heartily yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]