“LADY EASY.  That I can’t comprehend; for you see, among the men, nothing’s more ridiculous than a new fashion.  Those of the first sense are always the last that come into’ em.

“LADY BETTY.  That is, because the only merit of a man is his sense; but doubtless the greatest value of a woman is her beauty; an homely woman at the head of a fashion, would not be allowed in it by the men, and consequently not followed by the women; so that to be successful in one’s fancy is an evident sign of one’s being admir’d, and I always take admiration for the best proof of beauty, as beauty certainly is the source of power, as power in all creatures is the height of happiness.

“LADY EASY.  At this rate you would rather be thought beautiful than good.

“LADY BETTY.  As I had rather command than obey.  The wisest homely woman can’t make a man of sense of a fool, but the veryest fool of a beauty shall make an ass of a statesman; so that, in short, I can’t see a woman of spirit has any business in this world but to dress—­and make the men like her.

“LADY EASY.  Do you suppose this is a principle the men of sense will admire you for?

“LADY BETTY.  I do suppose that when I suffer any man to like my person, he shan’t dare to find fault with my principle.

“LADY EASY.  But men of sense are not so easilly humbled.

“LADY BETTY.  The easiest of any.  One has ten thousand times the trouble with a coxcomb....The men of sense, my dear, make the best fools in the world:  their sincerity and good breeding throws them so entirely into one’s power, and gives one such an agreeable thirst of using them ill, to show that power—­’tis impossible not to quench it.”

* * * * *

Compare this bristling dialogue with the inane stuff that too often passes for comedy nowadays, and one finds all the difference between real humour and flippancy.  We stand at the threshold of the twentieth century, boastfully proclaiming that we do everything better than ever could our ancestors, yet where are the new comedies that might hold a candle to the “Careless Husband,” the “Inconstant,” or the “School for Scandal?” We may be presumptuous enough, nevertheless, to hold up that much-quoted candle, but the light from it will burn pale and dim when placed near the golden glow of the past.  Would that we could purify some of the old-time pieces and thus preserve them for future generations of theatre-goers.  Alas! that is impossible, for to cleanse them with a sort of moral soap and water would destroy nearly all their delightful glitter.