‘Don’t you think, deep down’, wrote Paul Jennings, in a recent article about contemporary stage dialogue, ‘reading almost any modern novel or looking at any modern play, “that’s not the way people talk”? And don’t you feel this especially when it’s one of those realist plays?’ The short answer to Mr Jennings’ question may well be ‘Yes’, but the short answer can be very misleading and largely beside the point. What we feel about a dramatist or a play depends to a great extent on what we want to feel. If, for social or cultural reasons, it is important for us to believe that Pinter or Charles Wood have an ear for conversation and an ability to write down what they hear that makes Shakespeare seem a blundering amateur, the dialogue of a Pinter or Wood play will no doubt appear highly convincing. If, on the other hand, we have no wish to accept what these playwrights are trying to tell us and if we find their attitude to life unappealing or repulsive, we are very likely to question their mental equipment and technical skill. The question is not merely, ‘Is this dialogue convincing?’ but ‘convincing to what people, in what mood, under what circumstances?’

For half-a-century at least, the general opinion of Shakespearian critics has been that Shakespeare had an exceptionally good ear for the speech of his time and an exceptional ability to sift that speech and to absorb it into the language of his plays. Bernard Shaw believed that Shakespeare was a grossly over-worshipped national idol and declared that he himself had done all he could