Formerly the audience was composed chiefly of middle or lower class people. Nowadays all classes attend, and a member of the Imperial family, the Prince Regent, witnessed Kabuki performances for the first time when he visited the Imperial Theatre in Tokyo with the Prince of Wales. A distinctive feature of theatre-going are the parties of people who attend regularly in a body, patrons of the leading actors. Firemen, wrestlers, and tradespeople may thus be seen, according to the custom of their ancestors. The geisha are the steadiest patrons of the actors. Sometimes they make a brave show gaily apparelled, occupying the best seats in the gallery. They form an interesting element of the audience, smoking, chatting, weeping over the play, and making up with powder puff to obliterate the traces of tears, the young ones in dazzling kimono and obi, the more sedate in sober garments. When a popular actor in a piece that has withstood the shocks of time is before the audience interest becomes intense. Familiarity with the play adds to the keenness of the enjoyment. Before a favourite character makes a grand entrance by the hanamichi, every head in the pit is turned to see him come. Shouts of welcome are heard as a beloved hero is about to make his appearance on the scene. Half of the enjoyment to the playgoers in seeing these old plays is expectancy; not so much in the unfoldment of the plot, for they know the story by heart, and have witnessed the play often, but how the actor will interpret it. One of the privileges of the audience is to make audible remarks, and they are free and unrestrained in the expression of their admiration or criticism of an actor in a well-known rôle. “You did very well!” shouts a voice after an actor has portrayed a character to the general satisfaction. If an actor is ill, but refuses to disappoint the audience, a sympathiser calls out: “Take care of yourself!” or “Thank you for coming when you are so ill!” Should a young player, rapidly climbing the ladder of fame, display so much skill as to astonish, there is a surge of great pride throughout the audience, and shouts of “Nippon Ichi!” (“Best in Japan!”) are showered upon him. When the minstrel and the samisen player, who are to furnish the incidental music of a doll-theatre classic, mount their platform to the right of the stage, there are cries of: “Now do your best!”