The Chorus annotates the tragedy, encourages the heroes, gives descriptions, summons and expels the daylight, rejoices, laments, sometimes furnishes the scenery, explains the moral bearing of the subject, flatters the listening assemblage.

Now, what is the Chorus, this anomalous character standing between the spectacle and the spectator, if it be not the poet completing his epic?
The theatre of the ancients is, like their dramas, huge, pontifical, epic.

It is capable of holding thirty thousand spectators; the plays are given in the open air, in bright sunlight; the performances last all day.

The actors disguise their voices, wear masks, increase their stature; they make themselves gigantic, like their roles.

The stage is immense.