"A PENNY PLAIN—BUT OSCAR COLOURED."
(An Entertainment Antagonistic to Amusement.)
Scene—Anywhere. Characters distributed about the Stage in more or less admired confusion.
Anybody. So we are living in a penny romance. And this is Society.
Charles his Friend. Society is everything but sociable.
Somebody. But why should the Prime Minister be threatened by a professional blackmailer?
Charles his Friend. In matters of this kind the Premier is the dernier.
Someone Else. But surely the same sort of thing has been done by Sardou in Dora?
Charles his Friend. Why not? A dramatist has only one virtue, he never invents a drama.
A Casual Visitor. Then we have only to regard the Adelphi as a model, and take the Wyldest license with the dialogue.
Charles his Friend. Quite so. After all, a paradox is merely a platitude.
A Caller. But do great men do these things?
Charles his Friend. The great do all things because they are little.
A Lady. Surely a wife should look up to her husband?
Charles his Friend. So she does—unless she wears high heels.
A Person. And a wife, if she found her husband in trouble, would surely cleave to him?
Charles his Friend. So she would, if she only knew where to find him.
Another Person. That reminds me that a play, to be successful, must have the plot of a shilling shocker—much diluted.
Charles his Friend. A shocker shocks no one save its—publisher.
A New Comer. Then the blackmailer was defeated in the end—as bad people invariably are when vice is at a discount and virtue at a premium.
Charles his Friend. Virtue never is at a premium, save when it is mistaken for vice.
A blasé Man of the World. And yet, in spite of all this, I have had a pleasant evening.
Charles his Friend. So has an author when he is laughing in his sleeve and confuses black with white.
Someone. But does the author never know the difference?
Charles his Friend. What does it matter? If he thinks himself right, everybody will know that he is wrong!
The Audience. All this is very clever because it is unintelligible.
The Author. So I believe. Only I stand upon my irresponsibility. But is anyone satisfied with anything in a playhouse?
Charles his Friend. Only with the fall of the curtain!
[Scene closes in upon nothing in particular.
