To sum up this branch of the argument: however oft-repeated and
much-discussed a play may be, the playwright must assume that in every
audience there will be an appreciable number of persons who know
practically nothing about it, and whose enjoyment will depend, like that
of the first-night audience, on the skill with which he develops his
story. On the other hand, he can never rely on taking an audience by
surprise at any particular point. The class of effect which depends on
surprise is precisely the class of effect which is certain to be
discounted.[5]
We come now to a third reason why a playwright is bound to assume that
the audience to which he addresses himself has no previous knowledge of
his fable. It is simply that no other assumption has, or can have, any
logical basis. If the audience is not to be conceived as ignorant, how
much is it to be assumed to know? There is clearly no possible answer to
this question, except a purely arbitrary one, having no relation to the
facts.
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