“Is she not a romp?”
“Oh, surely, a sad, sad romp. She has by her romping, saved many a play from being damned.”
“She is so great a favorite with playgoers, I doubt her ability,” said Mr. Bates. “I doubt if she could move me. What is the nature of her merriment?”
“Extravagance, sir, extravagance. She bounces on as a hoyden, and pulls a long face like this”—even Mr. Bates roared at Kitty's long face—“behind the back of the very proper gentleman who has come to woo her. She catches the point of his sword sheath so that when he tries to turn he almost falls. She pretends that he has struck her with his sword and she howls with pain. He hastens to comfort her—down goes a chair, and he topples over it. 'Murder, murder!' she cries, and snatches up the shovel as if to defend herself. My gentleman recovers, and hastens to assure her of his honourable intentions. She keeps him off with her shovel. He drops his hat, and she shovels it up and runs around the room to throw it on the fire. He follows her over tables, chairs, and a sofa or two. 'Tally ho!' she cries and gives a view-halloo. Round the room they go, and just as he is at the point of catching her she uses the shovel as a racket, and sends the hat flying, and at the same stroke, sends her lover sprawling.”
“Madam, she is a vulgar jade, I swear,” cried Mr. Bates. He was more out of breath than Kitty, for she had acted the part so vividly that she had forced him involuntarily to take the part of the hoyden's lover, and both he and his hat had suffered. “That scene which you have described bears out my argument that the more outrageous a scene is, the better pleased are the public. Women do not make fools of men in real life.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“No; there you have the absurdity of the stage. Authors set reason and sense at defiance, daily. Shakespeare is one of the worst offenders.”
“What, Shakespeare?”
“Oh, believe me, madam, Shakespeare is a greatly over-rated writer. Look, for instance, at his play of 'Romeo and Juliet': Romeo sees the lady, exchanges a few words with her, and falls at once in love with her. He has only to rant beneath her window by the light of the moon, and forthwith she agrees to marry him, and sure enough, they are married the very next day. Good lord! Would Shakespeare have us believe that men can be so easily fooled? Our moderns have not greatly improved upon Shakespeare.”
“I am with you there, sir, heart and soul.”