I asked an actor, a university graduate, what he thought of the future of verse drama in acted plays. He inclined to believe that its day had gone by, even in tragedy; and that the language of the modern serious drama would be prose, colloquial, never stilted (as it was in “George Barnwell” and “Richelieu”), but rising, when necessary, into eloquence and a kind of unmetrical poetry. He instanced several passages in Pinero’s “Sweet Lavender” and later plays. Still, the blank verse tradition dies hard. Probably the leading representative of ideal or poetic drama in the contemporary theatre is Stephen Phillips, whose “Paolo and Francesca” (1899), “Herod” (1900), and “Ulysses” (1902) have all been shown upon the boards and highly acclaimed, at least by the critics. There is no doubt that they are fine dramatic poems with many passages of delicate, and some of noble, beauty. But whether they are anything more than excellent closet drama is not yet proved. Mr. Phillips’s experience as an actor has given him a practical knowledge of technic; and it may be conceded that his plays are nearer the requirements of the stage than Browning’s or Tennyson’s. They are simple, as Browning’s are not; and they have quick movement, where Tennyson’s are lumbering. Neither is it much against them that their subjects are antique, taken from Dante, Josephus, and Homer. But they appear to me poetically rather than dramatically imagined. Shakespeare and Racine dealt with remote or antique life; yet, each in his own way modernized and realized it. It is a hackneyed observation that Racine’s Greeks, Romans, and Turks are French gentlemen and ladies of the court of Louis XIV. Shakespeare’s Homeric heroes are very un-Homeric. There is little in either of local color or historical perspective: there is in both a fulness of handling, an explication of sentiments and characters. The people are able talkers and reasoners. Mr. Phillips’s method is implicit, and the atmosphere of things old and foreign is kept, the distance which lends enchantment to mediaeval Italy, or the later Roman Empire, or the heroic age. It is as if the “Idylls of the King” were dramatized,—as, indeed, “Elaine” was dramatized for one of the New York playhouses by George Lathrop,—retaining all their romantic charm and all their dramatic unreality.