Plays, or dramas, are a type of fiction that is performed in front of an audience. The written form is called a script. The story in a play is conveyed through dialogue and staging.
Below is an excerpt from the one act play
Why Cupid Came to Earl's Court by Cosmo Hamilton. Look over the different parts of the play.
[The sitting-room of the ROBERTSON'S house in Pelham Square, Earl's Court.]
[It is an ordinary comfortable room, with door R, fireplace L. A large arm-chair above fireplace. A table to the R of it, upon which there is a reading lamp, and a large workbasket C. R of table another chair. Upstage C, there is a card table, with three chairs. Two candles are burning on it, and there are bridge markers also upon it, and two packs of cards.]
[When curtain rises, MR. ROBERTSON, a kindly, shrewd, grey-headed man in spectacles, is sitting in arm-chair reading. He is in evening clothes, but wears an old shooting coat and bedroom slippers. Sitting in chair on the other side of table is MRS. ROBERTSON, a sweet-faced woman of about forty-eight, in an evening blouse, mending holes in a pair of socks.]
[Round the table, playing dummy, are PHYLLIS, BERYL, and ARTHUR TILNEY.]
[PYLLIS is a pretty, rather slangy, keenly observant girl. BERYL is a charming, quiet, self-reliant girl, and ARTHUR TILNEY a good-looking, impetuous young fellow of about twenty-five. The girls wear pretty evening frocks, and the boys evening clothes and a dinner jacket.]
BERYL: Three tricks--thanks to dummy's trumps.
PHYLLIS: Thanks to Arthur's appalling foozling, you mean.
BERYL: Did he foozle?
PHYLLIS: Did you see his discards--I ask you?
ARTHUR: [quickly] That was the new Badminton discard. It's played at every decent Club.
PHYLLIS: It may be 'minton. There's no question about it's being jolly bad.
ARTHUR: [gathering up cards] Why didn't you play the seven of diamonds?
PHYLLIS: For the simple reason that I hadn't got it. You had it.
ARTHUR: Well, why didn't you ask for it?
PHYLLIS: [dealing] Because I didn't want it.
MRS. ROBERTSON: Oh, don't quarrel, dears.
MR. ROBERTSON: They're not quarreling, my love. They're playing Bridge, the silent game.
PHYLLIS: Cue for general laughter. [She pretends to laugh heartily, the others join in irritably.]
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