(She is stumped by the suddenness of the demand.)
Voices. Haw! Haw! Magistrates!
Another. Women! Let 'em prove first they deserve——
A Shabby Art Student (his hair longish, soft hat, and flowing tie). They study music by thousands; where's their Beethoven? Where's their Plato? Where's the woman Shakespeare?
Another. Yes—what 'a' they ever done?
(The speaker clenches her hands, and is recovering her presence of mind, so that by the time the Chairman can make himself heard with, "Now men, give this lady a fair hearing—don't interrupt"—she, with the slightest of gestures, waves him aside with a low "It's all right.")
Miss L. (steadying and raising her voice). These questions are quite proper! They are often asked elsewhere; and I would like to ask in return: Since when was human society held to exist for its handful of geniuses? How many Platos are there here in this crowd?
A Voice (very loud and shrill). Divil a wan!
(Laughter.)
Miss L. Not one. Yet that doesn't keep you men off the register. How many Shakespeares are there in all England to-day? Not one. Yet the State doesn't tumble to pieces. Railroads and ships are built—homes are kept going, and babies are born. The world goes on! (bending over the crowd) It goes on by virtue of its common people.