Someone has said that it is safe to go to a play by Bernard Shaw provided that you do not take him seriously. It has also been suggested that Shaw will never be understood until he is captured alone, without an audience, and held to a direct answer of "Yes" or "No" to every question put to him. These two semi-truisms are by no means the be all and end all of Shaviainism; but they go a long way in helping most of us to understand the playwright. "Getting Married," playing this week at the Copley, is no exception to Shaw's rules. It is witty, intellectual and enjoyable; it tears down without building up; it makes mince-meat of "class" and "respectability"; and it leaves the mind in a whirl. We should like to believe that Shaw had a serious intent in pointing out so many flaws in the modern marriage system; indeed, there were not a few places where the lines spoke with startling earnestness. But then we should be taking G. B. S. seriously and he himself would in all probability be the first to laugh at us for doing so. And after all, he suggests nothing to mend the situation he seems to deplore; the play starts nowhere and ends there. No, the man is an enigma, and must be enjoyed as such. Some day someone will write a volume about him, but we predict brain fever for the author.

But all that does not prevent his plays from being keenly delightful, nor the Copley players from doing full justice to them. As presented Wednesday night, "Getting Married" promises to be one of the best plays of the season, both from the acting and the entertaining stand-points. Especially pleasing was the work of Mr. Joy as the Bishop of Chelsea: we hope that his versatility will be given full scope this season. Mr. Clive can always be counted upon and did not fail this time. Miss Doyle handled an "emotional" part with praiseworthy firmness, resisting all temptation to rant. The rest of the cast were equally satisfactory. We hope that "Getting Married" will continue to run for more than a week, for we should like to see it again.