Now, true dramatic action is what characters do, at once contrary, as it
were, to expectation, and yet because they have already done other
things. No dramatist should let his audience know what is coming; but
neither should he suffer his characters to, act without making his
audience feel that those actions are in harmony with temperament, and
arise from previous known actions, together with the temperaments and
previous known actions of the other characters in the play. The
dramatist who hangs his characters to his plot, instead of hanging his
plot to his characters, is guilty of cardinal sin.

The dialogue! Good dialogue again is character, marshalled so as
continually to stimulate interest or excitement. The reason good
dialogue is seldom found in plays is merely that it is hard to write, for
it requires not only a knowledge of what interests or excites, but such a
feeling for character as brings misery to the dramatist's heart when his
creations speak as they should not speak--ashes to his mouth when they
say things for the sake of saying them--disgust when they are "smart."

The art of writing true dramatic dialogue is an austere art, denying
itself all license, grudging every sentence devoted to the mere machinery
of the play, suppressing all jokes and epigrams severed from character,
relying for fun and pathos on the fun and tears of life. From start to
finish good dialogue is hand-made, like good lace; clear, of fine
texture, furthering with each thread the harmony and strength of a design
to which all must be subordinated.

But good dialogue is also spiritual action. In so far as the dramatist
divorces his dialogue from spiritual action--that is to say, from
progress of events, or toward events which are significant of