IF YOU'RE wandering down to the Boston Shakespeare Theater over the next few days, you might reasonably expect to see some Shakespeare. Not so. You might even be expecting to see some theater. Sorry. Even that must be in doubt.

But if you're expecting something interesting, provoking and undoubtably stylish, then An Evening with Quentin Crisp could well provide an amusing alternative to loud larums, noble lords and neurotic princes.

So who is Quentin Crisp? Quentin Crisp is a 77-year-old Englishman who openly paraded his homosexuality in a country where nobody else did. Few people paid much attention to him until 1976, when his autobiography The Naked Civil Servant was made into a TV drama starring John Hurt, described by Crisp as "my representative on earth". He has been a professional personality ever since.

This celebrity involves the writing of other books (How to Become a Virgin, Manners from Heaven), penning articles for The New York Times, The New York Post, Esquire, appearing on talk shows ("You say whatever you want to say, whatever the question is," quips Crisp), and appearing on stage at places like the Boston Shakespeare Theater.

So what does he actually do on stage? Well, An Evening with Quentin Crisp is divided into two parts.

In the first part, Crisp poses, postures and pontificates upon style, lifestyle and the pursuit of happiness. "In England," he asserts, "the pursuit of happiness is considered vulgar, but in America, everyone is mad about happiness." Needless to say, Crisp now lives in New York.

His performance is scripted (very scripted, actually). It is also rehearsed (very rehearsed, actually), down to the last flamboyant gesture. He appears in an up-turned collar, flowing pink cravat and a suit of shimmering green. His hair is a delicate tint of mauve and he holds theatrical court from a cluster of antique-looking furniture. Subjects covered range from the excesses of Eva Peron to the finer, eccentric points of domestic science ("never sweep the place where you live, because after the first four years the dust doesn't get any worse").

The gems which he dispenses, he says, are "messages of hope." Style, he pronounces, is everything, and "equal" is a dead word. Your neighbors curiosity about you is a tribute to your individuality."

This goes on for about an hour, followed by an interval during which Mr. Crisp signs autographs. A steady line assembles.

Part two is different. It consists entirely of questions, asked by the audience from their seats or submitted by the audience on cards filled out at halftime. Mr. Crisp peruses these with the aid of a monocle. He then parries, lunges and ripostes on topics ranging from love ("When you are in love, you accept the beloved's faults as virtues.") and children ("The trouble with children is that they are not returnable.") to whether or not Nancy Reagan is in fact a man in drag ("No, she would be much more feminine if she were.").

Someone even had the effrontery to submit the question: "What are you doing after the show?" Mr. Crisp fudged rather on that one.

It is interesting to note that not once in the first part did Crisp touch upon homosexuality. In the second half, however, this was also the subject of many questions. It was also the topic to which he responded with sensitivity rather than his habitual wit. Only at this point did he became more of a real person and less of a parody of himself.

What he conveyed fundamentally was his happiness and contentment at finding himself and contentment at finding himself and having the courage half-time. Mr. Crisp peruses these with dignity--that very dignity which John Hurt portrayed so admirably in the closing scenes of The Naked Civil Servant.

For someone so outrageous, Crisp seems quite moderate when speaking on homosexual issues. He dismissed gay bars, gay clubs, gay restaurants and openly laughed at the idea of a gay bank. "I do not want to live in an exclusively gay world," he said. "You cannot be proud of being gay because it isn't something you've done. It's something you've stuck with. You cannot be proud of having red hair unless you've dyed it."

There is no doubt that Quentin Crisp is a man of great style and great charisma, even though the man is a mass of contradictions. He appears on stage as a writer who performs rather than a performer who writes, and he is much more a wit than a philosopher. Yet at the same time, there is that odd, sensitive, moment when he can silence an audience just as well as he can draw applause.