Owing to the long theatre hours, which continued from sunrise to sunset, the chaya became a positive necessity. The intervals between the curtains were often very long, for the actors and their dependents performed their work in a leisurely manner, considerations of time scarcely entering into their calculations, as the plays went on from twelve to fourteen hours. Moreover, there were no conveniences in connection with the shibai of those days, and it was necessary for every one to seek out the chaya for recreation, gossip, food, or rest. Although the samurai were not supposed to be seen at such a vulgar entertainment as the shibai, he managed to be a frequent visitor, often attending incognito. If he went in his proper attire, he carried two swords thrust through his waistband, and when such a dignitary condescended to witness the plays, his precious weapon, often a family treasure, had to be deposited in the chaya before he could kneel down to enjoy himself in his box in the gallery. There were many kinds of chaya attached to shibai,—the great chaya, or first-class tea-houses, in close proximity to the theatre, and the front chaya, or those somewhat detached, generally opposite. Many little chaya or small places of business, were also to be found. A first-class theatre had as many as nineteen chief tea-houses, twenty-eight of a slightly different grade, and a great variety of minor places. The maids of the tea-houses waited on their guests with tea and cakes, cushions, tobacco, and the chaya vied with each other in the cooking of tempting dishes. The old customs with regard to the tea-house in Tokyo were to be seen at the Ichimura-za until the earthquake disaster, where much that characterised the Yedo playhouses was preserved. Kyoto audiences were unaccustomed to applaud in the early period of Kabuki. They discussed the plays and players and gossiped among themselves. If a playgoer wished to tell an actor how well he had done, he would write a note to this effect and have it sent into his dressing-room. Osaka audiences were not so restrained, and early in Genroku it was the custom for the Dotombori playgoers to shout and clap their hands. The actors were much gratified, for, like members of their fraternity in other parts of the world, they were not above playing to the gallery. The first time a person in an audience in Osaka dared to express the pleasure the actors had given him, he shouted out loudly, “You did very well!” There were occasions, however, when the enthusiasts in the audience used complicated sentences when bestowing praise, and so interfered with the plays. The audience was also quick to show disappointment at the failure of the players and did not hesitate to shower them with adverse criticism, some quick-tempered persons throwing cushions and other objects at the stage if the play did not suit them.