In 1676, Sir George Etherege, Restoration fop and mover, tossed off a play called The Man of Mode; or, Sir Fopling Flutter. The play is unfettered by plot, unburdened by morals, unsourced by satire. Like the Glass Flowers, it is all for appearance, a collection of delicately made specimens of a certain type of life. The Man of Mode is very much of its age, not for all time. In this limp-wrist world, the winners win by virtue of their wit, and the losers lose for having the bad taste to display jealously -- a situation which confuses our twentieth-century sympathies. Furthermore, Etherege wrote the play to please an ingrown audience -- it would recognize friends and celebrities among the characters. If the playwright had been present last night he would no doubt have gone around whispering, "You had to be there. It's not nearly as funny as it used to be."

Given a play which is all show and a show which is all play, the Loeb has done an engaging job -- though not engaging throughout the entire 3 hours. Peter Johnson's scenery, first of all is convincingly Carolingian, intimate, and cleverly peels away before our eyes a la Restoration. Lewis Smith's costumes do more than dress the play -- they brighten it immeasurably and sometimes delineate the characters more than the actors do. Robert Chapman, the director, has taught his cast Restoration manners, which some have learned better than others. Applying a veneer takes time -- the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London uses up about a year in training actors for this kind of comedy -- and Chapman has had to make his actors feel at home in fops' clothing in about a month. He has paced the play at a good trot, and when he invents business, his touch is sure. He has given the play an authentic tone, and refused to pull in silly anachronisms to get laughs.

It is no wonder then that some of the acting does not come up to the brightness of the whole production. Three dandies start out a scene talking like different human beings, and end it sounding like male counter-parts of the Three Little Maids. Too often an actor enters and sounds as if he has been tuning up to the players on stage. When some one does bring on a new tone, it blows the ether out of Etherege, and makes even the topical references and most elusive wit funny. Mr. Senelick (they've got no first names in the Genuine Antique program) breezes as Sir Foplin Flutter, looking like the Cowardly Lion, bantering in a voice that plummets and soars like Cyril Ritchard's. And with all clowning, he fools us into listening to every line he says. Mrs. Pitzele, as Mrs. Loveit, rustles about giving a brilliant performance as a woman wronged. Miss Cole does justice, with Mr. Cutler, to one of Etherege's most winning scenes. More than anyone else, she has mastered innuendo, and can use it to make points. Mr. Seltzer is charming as a gruff, fanny-slapping squire, and Mr. Kozol, though his accent fluctuates, makes us pay attention to most of his idle gossip. These people have made their characters personalities.

They must, for all of Etherege roles seem very much alike to an audience which doesn't live daily with the subtle social shadings of Restoration London.

The main character in Man of Mode never comes to life. This is Dorimant, a lover who thrives on intrigue and conquers with a quick tongue -- demanding a graceful star with a virtuoso sense of timing. Mr. Keith has no tthe equipment to do the part. His speech is sing-song when it should be crisp; he moves with an awkward amble when sh should walk like a dancer; and he has a jarring resemblence to Bobby Kennedy, unfortunate for this part. He defies us to concentrate on his cuts and epigrams.

Of the minor roles, Mr. Kaplan and Misses Meglathery and Levin present well-carved cameos.. And Rima Wolff's dances help pump up this souffle that didn't quite rise, but which gives a good taste of the early Restoration stage.