The Stage Crew Grows

All you possest with indepressed spirits,
Indu'd with nimble and aspiring wits,
Come consecrate with me, to sacred Night,
Your whole endeavors, and detest the light,
No pen can any thing eternal write
That is not steept in humour of the night.

We are now deep into rehearsals and workshops. Doctor Fluxus has added numerous props, including a column of burning skulls(!) and a revolving field of stars. Pantalone, my Stage Manager, returned to his duties (he had fled to Renaissance Island when he heard that the Doctor was conjuring ghosts), but much worse for the wear after the long journey. He reached his limit last night, with over four hundred lines to remember (for he prompts all of Doctor Fluxus' speeches and choreography, moves the sceneries and stage properties, all while keeping the stage illuminated. The Stage Manager began to make errors, then gave up and refused to store any more lines in his small mind. So I went out in search of an assistant and found Fritellino strumming a guitar beneath a balcony. Offered the choice between paid service and a costly mistress, the penurious lover abandoned his suit and followed me back to Orion. Our tasks are now divided: props and stage are hoisted, hauled and heaved by Pantalone; lines and choreography are declaimed, directed and deployed by Fritellino, while yours truly makes sure they start in time together and stay out of the Doctor's way. The Doctor has granted me charge of costumes and makeup. We ran through a few scenes this morning, and I am happy to say we are working as a team at last. Scenes 1 through 3 are blocked out, and the curtains close properly. Scene 6 has been removed, and scenes 7 and 8 are almost ready.