Rehearsals for our performance have begun, but it is clear that the crew is less committed than I am. They've run through these scenes a dozen times, but talks of “pain” have now dominated their conversations. Even Elizabeth, my dear sweet muse, is prompting me to omit the scene of Blythe's beheading- the CLIMAX, of all things! There is only so much complaining I can take!
We've taken refuge at the Inn in Cleave's Point. The place is full of scoundrels and thieves, but when they heard of our play they were brimming with excitement! If only Alcott and Bancroft understood my work like they do…
These blithering fools! Do they not respect me enough to give me their all? To be a true artist, one must be willing to suffer for their art! Heaven knows I have, with all their complaining. If god must strike me down, so be it. Rehearsals shall continue as planned.
-William Eastburn
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