07-09-2015, 07:11 PM
It's been done ...
A pet peeve of John Barrymore’s was “coughers” in the theatre audience. Consistently offended by such wheezing disturbances, he would often find clever ways to make his displeasure with the cougher known, whether by improvising his dialogue or some other—ahem—extreme means. Below are three instances of such—ahem—means.
Somewhere in this [Plymouth Theatre] balcony long ago, a man suddenly had burst out laughing during Barrymore’s playing of Richard III. You must recall that Scene IV, Act V, opens on Bosworth Field, with Catesby’s speech to Norfolk, suggesting rescue after Richard has been unhorsed in action. Then there is an alarum, and Richard clanks on-stage with his distraught cry: “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!”
On this particular night Barrymore hardly had delivered his penetrating vocals regarding the need of a charger than some gentleman in the balcony emitted the loudest guffaw since the days of Rabelais. Barrymore, encased in black armor, raised his sword toward the balcony and, without departing one beat from the iambic pentameter of the Bard, called out: “Make haste, and saddle yonder braying ass!”