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{~~Gwendolen. Perhaps this might be a favourable opportunity for
my mentioning who I am. My father is Lord Bracknell. You have
never heard of papa, I suppose?\\
~~Cecily. I don't think so.\\
~~Gwendolen. Outside the family circle, papa, I am glad to say, is
entirely unkown. I think that is quite as it should be. The home
seems to me to be the proper sphere for the man. And certainly
once a man begins to neglect his domestic duties he becomes painfully
effeminate, does he not? And I don't like that. It makes men
so very attractive. Cecily, mamma, whose views on education are
remarkably strict, has brought me up to be extremely short-
sighted; it is part of her system; so do you mind my looking at
you through my glasses?\\
~~Cecily. Oh! not at all, Gwendlen. I am very fond of being
looked at.\\
~~Gwendolen (after examining Cecily carefully through a lorgnette).
You are here on a short visit, I suppose.\\
~~Cecily. Oh no! I live here.\\
~~Gwendolen (severly). Really? Your mother, no doubt, or some
female relative of advanced years, resides here also?\\
~~Cecily. Oh no! I have no mother, nor, in fact, any relations.\\
~~Gwendolen. Indeed?\\
~~Cecily. My dear guardian, with the assistance of Miss Prism, has
the arduous task of looking after me.\\
~~Gwendolen. Your guardian?\\
~~Cecily. Yes, I am Mr Worthing's ward.\\
~~Gwendolen. Oh! It is strange he never mentioned to me that he
had a ward. How secretive of him! He grows more interesting
hourly. I am not sure, however, that the news inspires me with
feelings of unmixed delight. (Rising and going to her.) I am very fond
of you, Cecily; I have liked you ever since I met you! But I am
bound to state that now that I know that you are Mr Worthing's
ward, I cannot help expressing a wish you were---well, just a little
older than you seem to be---and not quite so very alluring in
appearence. In fact, if I may speak candidly---\\
~~Cecily. Pray do! I think that whenever one has anything unpleasant
to say, one should always be quite candid.\\
~~Gwendolen. Well, to speak with perfect candour, Cecily, I wish
that you were fully forty-two, and more than usually plain for
your age. Ernest has a strong upright nature. He is the very soul of
truth and honour. Disloyalty would be as impossible to him as
deception. But even men of the noblest possible moral character
are extremely susceptible to the influence of the physical charms of
others. Modern, no less than Ancient History, supplies us with many
most painful examples of what I refer to. If it were not so, indeed,
History would be quite unreadable.\\
~~Cecily. I beg your pardon, Gwendolen, did you say Ernest?\\
~~Gwendolen. Yes.\\
~~Cecily. Oh, but it is not Mr Ernest Worthing who is my guardian.
It is his brother---his elder brother.\\
~~Gwendolen (sitting down again). Ernest never mentioned to me
that he had a brother.\\
~~Cecily. I am sorry to say that they have not been on good terms for a
long time.\\
~~Gwendolen. Ah! that accounts for it. And now that I think of it
I have never heard any man mention his brother. The subject seems
distasteful to most men. Cecily, you have lifted a load from my
mind. I was growing almost anxious. It would have been terrible
if any cloud had come across a friendship like ours, would it not?
Of course you are quite, quite sure that it is not Mr Ernest Worthing
who is your guardian?\\
~~Cecily. Quite sure. (A pause.) In fact, I am going to be his.\\
~~Gwendolen (Inquiringly). I beg your pardon?\\
~~Cecily (rather shy and confidingly). Dearest Gwendolen, there is no
reason why I should make a secret of it to you. Our little country
newspaper is sure to chronicle the fact next week. Mr Ernest
Worthing and I are engaged to be married.\\
~~Gwendolen (quite politely, rising). My darling Cecily, I think there
must be some slight error. Mr Ernest Worthing is engaged to me.
The announcement will appear in the \textit{Morning Post} on Saturday at
the lastest.\\
~~Cecily (very politely, rising). I am afraid you must be under some
misconception. Ernest proposed to me exactly ten minutes ago.
(Shows diary.)\\
~~Gwendolen (examines diary through her lorgnette carefully). It is very
curious, for he asked me to be his wife yesterday afternoon at 5:30.
If you would care to verify the incident, pray do so. (Produces diary
of her own.) I never travel without my diary. One should always
have something sensational to read in the train. I am so sorry, dear
Cecily, if it is any diappointment to you, but I am afraid I have
the prior claim.\\
~~Cecily. It would distress me more than I can tell you, dear Gwendolen,
if it caused you any mental or physical anguish, but I feel
bound to point out that since Ernest proposed to you he clearly
has changed his mind.\\
~~Gwendolen (meditatively). If the poor fellow has been entrapped
into any foolish promise I shall consider it my duty to rescue him
at once, and with a firm hand.\\
~~Cecily (thoughtfully and sadly). Whatever unfortunate entaglement
my dear boy may have got into, I will never reproach him with it
after we are married.\\
~~Gwendolen. Do you allude to me, Miss Cardew, as an entaglement?
You are presumptuous. On an occasion of this kind it
becomes more than a moral duty to speak one's mind. It becomes
a pleasure.\\
~~Cecily. Do you suggest, Miss Fairfax, that I entrapped Ernest into
an engagement? How dare you? This is no time for wearing
the shallow mask of manners. When I see a spade I call it a
spade.\\
~~Gwendolen (satirically). I am glad to say that I have never seen
a spade. It is obvious that our social spheres have been widely
different.\\
(Enter Merriman, followed by the footman. He carries a salver, table
cloth, and plate stand. Cecily is about to retort. The presence of the
servants exercises a restraining influence, under which both girls chafe.)\\
~~Merriman. Shall I lay tea here as usual, Miss?\\
~~Cecily (sternly, in a calm voice). Yes, as usual. (Merriman begins to
clear table and lay cloth. A long pause. Cecily and Gwendolen
glare at each other.)\\
~~Gwendolen. Are there many interesting walks in the vicinity, Miss
Cardew?\\
~~Cecily. Oh! yes! a great many. From the top of one of the hills
quite close one can see five counties.\\
~~Gwendolen. Five counties! I don't think I should like that; I hate
crowds.\\
~~Cecily (sweetly). I suppose that is why you live in town? (Gwendolen
bites her lip, and beats her foot nervously with her parasol.)\\
~~Gwendolen (looking round). Quite a well-kept garden this is, Miss
Cardew.\\
~~Cecily. So glad you like it, Miss Fairfax.\\
~~Gwendolen. I had no idea there were any flowers in the country.\\
~~Cecily. Oh, flowers are as common here, Miss Fairfax, as people
are in London.\\
~~Gwendolen. Personally I cannot understand how anybody manages
to exist in the country, if anybody who is anybody does. The
country always bores me to death.\\
~~Cecily. Ah! This is what the newspapers call agricultural depression,
is it not? I believe the aristocracy are suffering very much from it
just at present. It is almost an epidemic amongst them, I have been
told. May I offer you some tea, Miss Fairfax?\\
~~Gwendolen (with elaborate politeness). Thank you. (Aside.) Detestable
girl! But I require tea!\\
~~Cecily (sweetly). Sugar?\\
~~Gwendolen (superciliously). No, thank you. Sugar is not fashionable
any more. (Cecily looks angrily at her, takes up the tongs and puts
four lumps of sugar into the cup.)\\
~~Cecily (severely). Cake or bread and butter?\\
~~Gwendolen (in a bored manner). Bread and butter, please. Cake is
rarely seen at the best houses nowadays.\\
~~Cecily (cuts a very large slice of cake and puts it on the tray). Hand
that to Miss Fairfax.\\
(Merriman does so, and goes out with footman. Gwendolen drinks
the tea and makes a grimace. Puts down cup at once, reaches out her hand
to the bread and butter, looks at it, and finds it is cake. Rises in
indignation.)\\
~~Gwendolen. You have filled my tea with lumps of sugar, and
though I asked most distinctly for bread and butter, you have given
me cake. I am known for the gentleness of my disposition, and the
extraordinary sweetness of my nature, but I warn you, Miss
Cardew, you may go too far.\\
~~Cecily (rising). To save my poor, innocent, trusting boy from the
machinations of any other girl there are no lengths to which I
would not go.\\
~~Gwendolen. From the moment I saw you I distrusted you. I felt
that you were false and deceitful. I am never deceived in such
matters. My first impressions of people are invariably right.\\
~~Cecily. It seems to me, Miss Fairfax, that I am trespassing on your
valuable time. No doubt you have many other calls of a similar
character to make in the neighbourhood.\\
(Enter Jack.)\\
~~Gwendolen (catching sight of him). Ernest! My own Ernest!\\
~~Jack. Gwendolen! Darling! (Offers to kiss her.)\\
~~Gwendolen (drawing back). A moment! May I ask if you are
engaged to be married to this young lady? (Points to Cecily.)\\
~~Jack (laughing). To dear little Cecily? Of course not! What could
have put such an idea into your pretty little head?\\
~~Gwendolen. Thank you. You may! (Offers her cheek.)\\
~~Cecily (very sweetly). I knew there must be some misunderstanding,
Miss Fairfax. The gentleman whose arm is at present round your
waist is my guardian, Mr John Worthing.\\
~~Gwendolen. I beg your pardon?\\
~~Cecily. This is Uncle Jack.\\
~~Gwendolen (receding). Jack! Oh!\\
(Enter Algernon.)\\
~~Cecily. Here is Ernest.\\
~~Algernon (goes straight over to Cecily without noticing anyone else).
My own love! (Offers to kiss her.)\\
~~Cecily (drawing back). A moment, Ernest! May I ask you---are you
engaged to be married to this young lady?\\
~~Algernon (looking round). To what young lady? Good heavens!
Gwendolen!\\
~~Cecily. Yes: to good heavens, Gwendolen, I mean to Gwendolen.\\
~~Algernon (laughing). Of course not! What could have put such
an idea into your pretty little head?\\
~~Cecily. Thank you. (Presenting her cheek to be kissed.) You may.\\
(Algernon kisses her.)\\
~~Gwendolen. I felt there was some slight error, Miss Cardew. The
gentleman who is now embracing you is my cousin, Mr Algernon
Moncrieff.\\
~~Cecily (breaking away from Algernon). Algernon Moncrieff! Oh!\\
(The two girls move towards each other and put their arms round each
other's waists as if for protection.)\\
~~Cecily. Are you called Algernon?\\
~~Algernon. I cannot deny it.\\
~~Cecily. Oh!\\
~~Gwendolen. Is your name really John?\\
~~Jack (standing rather proudly). I could deny it if I liked. I could deny
anything if I liked. But my name certainly is John. It has been John
for years.\\
~~Cecily (to Gwendolen). A gross deception has been practised on
both of us.\\
~~Gwendolen. My poor wounded Cecily!\\
~~Cecily. My sweet wronged Gwendolen!\\
~~Gwendolen (slowly and seriously). You will call me sister, will you
not? (They embrace. Jack and Algernon groan and walk up and
down.)\\
~~Cecily (rather brightly). There is just one question I would like to be
allowed to ask my guardian.\\
~~Gwendolen. An admirable idea! Mr Worthing, there is just one
question I would like to be permitted to put to you. Where is your
brother Ernest? We are both engaged to be married to your brother
Ernest, so it is a matter of some importance to us to know where
your brother Ernest is at present.\\
~~Jack (slowly and hesitatingly). Gwendolen---Cecily---it is very painful
for me to be forced to speak the truth. It is the first time in my life
that I have ever been reduced to such a painful position, and I am
really quite inexperienced in doing anything of the kind. However,
I will tell you quite frankly that I have no brother Ernest. I have
no brother at all. I never had a brother in my life, and I certainly
have not the smallest intention of ever having one in the future.\\
~~Cecily (surprised). No brother at all?\\
~~Jack (cheerily). None!\\
~~Gwendolen (severely). Had you never a brother of any kind?\\
~~Jack (pleasantly). Never. Not even of any kind.\\
~~Gwendolen. I am afraid it is quite clear, Cecily, that neither of us
is engaged to be married to anyone.\\
~~Cecily. It is not a very pleasant position for a young girl suddenly
to find herself in. Is it?\\
~~Gwendolen. Let us go into the house. They will hardly venture
to come after us there.\\
~~Cecily. No, men are so cowardly, aren't they?\\
(They retire into the house with scornful looks.)\\
~~Jack. This ghastly state of things is what you call Bunburying,
I suppose?\\
~~Algernon. Yes, and a perfectly wonderful Bunbury it is. The most
wonderful Bunbury I have ever had in my life.\\
~~Jack. Well, you've no right whatsoever to Bunbury here.\\
~~Algernon. That is absurd. One has a right to Bunbury anywhere
one chooses. Every serious Bunburyist knows that.\\
~~Jack. Serious Bunburyist? Good heavens!\\
~~Algernon. Well, one must be serious about something, if one wants
to have any amusement in life. I happen to be serious about Bunburying.
What on earth you are serious about I haven't got the
remotest idea. About everything, I should fancy. You have such
an absolutely trivial nature.\\
~~Jack. Well, the only small satisfaction I have in the whole of this
wretched business is that your friend Bunbury is quite exploded.
You won't be able to run down to the country quite so often as
you used to do, dear Algy. And a very good thing too.\\
~~Algernon. Your brother is a little off colour, isn't he, dear Jack?
You won't be able to disappear to London quite so frequently as
your wicked custom was. And not a bad thing either.\\
~~Jack. As for your conduct towards Miss Cardew, I must say that
your taking in a sweet, simple, innocent girl like that is quite
inexcusable. To say nothing of the fact that she is my ward.\\
~~Algernon. I can see no possible defence at all for your deceiving a
brilliant, clever, thoroughly experienced youg lady like Miss
Fairfax. To say nothing of the fact that she is my cousin.\\
~~Jack. I wanted to be engaged to Gwendolen, that is all. I love her.\\
~~Algernon. Well, I simply wanted to be engaged to Cecily. I adore
her.\\
~~Jack. There is certainly no chance of your marrying Miss Cardew.\\
~~Algernon. I don't think there is much likelihood, Jack, of you and
Miss Fairfax being united.\\
~~Jack. Well, that is no business of yours.\\
~~Algernon. If it was my business, I wouldn't talk about it. (Begins
to eat muffins.) It is very vulgar to talk about one's business. Only
people like stockbrokers do that, and then merely at dinner parties.\\
~~Jack. How you can sit there, calmly eating muffins when we are in
this horrible trouble, I can't make out. You seem to me to be
perfectly heartless.\\
~~Algernon. Well, I can't eat muffins in an agitated manner. The
butter would probably get on my cuffs. One should always eat
muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.\\
~~Jack. I say it's perfectly heartless your eating muffins at all, under
the circumstances.\\
~~Algernon. When I am in trouble, eating is the only thing that consoles
me. Indeed, when I am in really great trouble, as any one who
knows me intimately will tell you, I refuse everything except food
and drink. At the present moment I am eating muffins because I am
unhappy. Besides, I am particularly fond of muffins. (Rising.)\\
~~Jack (rising). Well, there is no reason why you should eat them all
in that greedy way. (Takes muffins from Algernon.)\\
~~Algernon (offering tea-cake). I wish you would have tea-cake
instead. I don't like tea-cake.\\
~~Jack. Good heavens! I suppose a man may eat his own muffins in
his own garden.\\
~~Algernon. But you have just said it was perfectly heartless to eat
muffins.\\
~~Jack. I said it was perfectly heartless of you, under the circumstances.
That is a very different thing.\\
~~Algernon. That may be. But the muffins are the same. (He seizes
the muffin-dish from Jack.)\\
~~Jack. Algy, I wish to goodness you would go.\\
~~Algernon. You can't possibly ask me to go without having some
dinner. It's absurd. I never go without my dinner. No one ever
does, except vegetarians and people like that. Besides I have just
made arragements with Dr Chasuble to be christened at a quarter
to six under the name of Ernest.\\
~~Jack. My dear fellow, the sooner you give up that nonsense the
better. I made arrangements this morning with Dr Chasuble to be
christened myself at 5:30, and I naturally will take the name of
Ernest. Gwendolen would wish it. We can't both be christened
Ernest. It's absurd. Besides, I have a perfect right to be christened
if I like. There is no evidence at all that I have ever been christened
by anybody. I should think it extremely probable I never was,
and so does Dr Chasuble. It is entirely different in your case. You
have been christened already.\\
~~Algernon. Yes, but I have not been christened for years.\\
~~Jack. Yes, but you have been christened. That is the important
thing.\\
~~Algernon. Quite so. So I know my constitution can stand it.
If you are not quite sure about your ever having been christened,
I must say I think it rather dangerous your venturing on it now.
It might make you very unwell. You can hardly have forgotten
that someone very closely connected with you was very nearly
carried off this week in Paris by a severe chill.\\
~~Jack. Yes, but you said yourself that a severe chill was
not hereditary.\\
~~Algernon. It usen't to be, I know---but I daresay it is now. Science
is always making wonderful improvements in things.\\
~~Jack (picking up the muffin-dish). Oh, that is nonsense; you are always
talking nonsense.\\
~~Algernon. Jack, you are at the muffins again! I wish you wouldn't.
There are only two left. (Takes them.) I told you I was particularly
fond of muffins.\\
~~Jack. But I hate tea-cake.\\
~~Algernon. Why on earth then do you allow tea-cake to be served
up for your guests? What ideas you have of hospitality?\\
~~Jack. Algernon! I have already told you to go. I don't want you
here. Why don't you go!\\
~~Algernon. I haven't quite finished my tea yet! and there is still one
muffin left. (Jack groans, and sinks into a chair. Algernon continues
eating.)\\
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Act Drop\\
\\
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Third Act\\
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Scene\\
(Drawing-room at the Manor House.)\\
(Gwendolen and Cecily are at the window, looking out into the
garden.)\\
~~Gwendolen. The fact that they did not follow us at once into the
house, as any one else would have done, seems to me to show that
they have some sense of shame left.\\
~~Cecily. They have been eating muffins. That looks like repentance.\\
~~Gwendolen (after a pause). They don't seem to notice us at all.
couldn't you cough?\\
~~Cecily. But I haven't got a cough.\\
~~Gwendolen. They're looking at us. What effrontery!\\
~~Cecily. They're approaching. That's very forward of them.\\
~~Gwendolen. Let us preserve a dignified silence.\\
~~Cecily. Certainly. It's the only thing to do now.\\
(Enter Jack followed by Algernon. They whistle some dreadful
popular air from a British Opera.)\\
~~Gwendolen. This dignified silence seems to produce an unpleasant
effect.\\
~~Cecily. A most distasteful one.\\
~~Gwendolen. But we will not be the first to speak.\\
~~Cecily. Certainly not.\\
~~Gwendolen. Mr Worthing, I have something very particular to
ask you. Much depends on your reply.\\
~~Cecily. Gwendolen, your common sense is invaluable. Mr Moncrieff,
kindly answer me the following question. Why did you
pretend to be my guardian's brother?\\
~~Algernon. In order that I might have an opportunity of meeting
you.\\
~~Cecily (to Gwendolen). That certainly seems a satisfactory
explanation, does it not?\\
~~Gwendolen. Yes, dear, if you can believe him.\\
~~Cecily. I don't. But that does not affect the wonderful beauty of
his answer.\\
~~Gwendolen. True. In matters of grave importance, style, not
sincerity, is the vital thing. Mr Worthing, what explanation can
you offer to me for pretending to have a brother? Was it in order
that you might have an opportunity of coming up to town to see
me as often as possible?\\
~~Jack. Can you doubt it, Miss Fairfax?\\
~~Gwendolen. I have the gravest doubts upon the subject. But I
intend to crush them. This is not the moment for German scepticism.
(Moving to Cecily.) Their explanations appear to be quite
satisfactory, especially Mr Worthing's. That seems to me to have
the stamp of truth upon it.\\
~~Cecily. I am more than content with what Mr Moncrieff said. His
voice alone inspires one with absolute credulity.\\
~~Gwendolen. Then you think we should forgive them?\\
~~Cecily. Yes. I mean no.\\
~~Gwendolen. True! I had forgotten. There are princilples at stake
that one cannot surrender. Which of us should tell them? The task
is not a pleasant one.\\
~~Cecily. Could we not both speak at the same time?\\
~~Gwendolen. An excellent idea! I nearly always speak at the same
time as other people. Will you take the time from me?\\
~~Cecily. Certainly. (Gwendolen beats time with uplifted finger.)\\
~~Gwendolen and Cecily (speaking together). Your Christian names
are still an insuperable barrier. That is all!\\
~~Jack and Algernon (speaking together). Our Christian names! Is
that all? But we are going to be christened this afternoon.\\
~~Gwendolen (to Jack). For my sake you are prepared to do this
terrible thing?\\
~~Jack. I am.\\
~~Cecily (to Algernon). To please me you are ready to face this
fearful ordeal?\\
~~Algernon. I am!\\
~~Gwendolen. How absurd to talk of the equality of the sexes!\\
Where questions of self-sacrifice are concerned, men are infinitely
beyond us.\\
~~Jack. We are. (Claps hands with Algernon.)\\
~~Cecily. They have moments of physical courage of which we
women know absolutely nothing.\\
~~Gwendolen (to Jack). Darling!\\
~~Algernon (to Cecily). Darling! (They fall into each other's arms.)\\
(Enter Merriman. When he enters he coughs loudly, seeing
the situation.)\\
~~Merriman. Ahem! Ahem! Lady Bracknell.\\
~~Jack. Good heavens!\\
(Enter Lady Bracknell. The couples separate in alarm.)
(Exit Merriman.)\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Gwendolen! What does this mean?\\
~~Gwendolen. Merely that I am engaged to be married to Mr
Worthing, mamma.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Come here. Sit down. Sit down immediately.
Hesitation of any kind is a sign of mental decay in the young, of
physical weakness in the old. (Turns to Jack.) Apprised, sir, of
my daughter's sudden flight by her trusty maid, whose confidence
I purchased by means of a small coin, I followed her at once by a
luggage train. Her unhappy father is, I am glad to say, under the
impression that she is attending a more than usually lengthy lecture
by the University Extension Scheme on the Influence of a permanent
income on Thought. I do not propose to undeceive him.
Indeed I have never undeceived him on any question. I would consider
it wrong. But of course, you will clearly understand that all
communication between yourself and my daughter must cease
immediately from this moment. On this point, as indeed on all
points, I am firm.\\
~~Jack. I am engaged to be married to Gwendolen, Lady Bracknell!\\
~~Lady Bracknell. You are nothing of the kind, sir. And now as
regards Algernon! ... Algernon!\\
~~Algernon. Yes, Aunt Augusta.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. May I ask if it is in this house that your invalid
friend Mr Bunbury resides?\\
~~Algernon (stammering). Oh! No! Bunbury doesn't live here.
Bunbury is somewhere else at present. In fact, Bunbury is dead.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Dead! When did Mr Bunbury die? His death
must have been extremely sudden.\\
~~Algernon (airily). Oh! I killed Bunbury this afternoon. I mean poor
Bunbury died this afternoon.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. What did he die of?\\
~~Algernon. Bunbury? Oh, he was quite exploded.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Exploded! Was he the victim of a revolutionary
outrage? I was not aware that Mr Bunbury was interested in social
legislation. If so, he is well punished for his morbidity.\\
~~Algernon. My dear Aunt Augusta, I mean he was found out! The
doctors found out that Bunbury could not live, that is what I
mean---so Bunbury died.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. He seems to have had great confidence in the
opinion of his physicians. I am glad, however, that he made up his
mind at the last to some definite course of action, and acted under
proper medical advice. And now that we have finally got rid of
this Mr Bunbury, may I ask, Mr Worthing, who is that young
person whose hand my nephew Algernon is now holding in what
seems to me a peculiarly unnecessary manner?\\
~~Jack. That lady is Miss Cecily Cardew, my ward. (Lady
Bracknell bows coldly to Cecily.)\\
~~Algernon. I am engaged to be married to Cecily, Aunt Augusta.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. I beg your pardon?\\
~~Cecily. Mr Moncrieff and I are engaged to be married, Lady
Bracknell.\\
~~Lady Bracknell (with a shiver, crossing to the sofa and sitting down).
I do not know whether there is anything peculiarly exciting in the
air of this particular part of Hertfordshire, but the number of
engagements that go on seems to me considerably above the proper
average that statistics have laid down for our guidance. I think
some preliminary inquiry on my part would not be out of place.
Mr Worthing, is Miss Cardew at all connected with any of the
larger railway stations in London? I merely desire information.
Until yesterday I had no idea that there were any families or persons
whose origin was a Terminus. (Jack looks perfectly furious, but
restrains himself.)\\
~~Jack (in a cold, clear voice). Miss Cardew is the granddaughter of
the late Mr Thomas Cardew of 149 Belgrave Square, S.W.;
Gervase Park, Dorking, Surrey; and the Sporran, Fifeshire, N.B.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. That sounds not unsatisfactory. Three addresses
always inspire confidence, even in tradesman. But what proof
have I of their authenticity?\\
~~Jack. I have carefully preserved the Court Guides of the period.
They are open to your inspection, Lady Bracknell.\\
~~Lady Bracknell (grimly). I have known strange errors in that
publication.\\
~~Jack. Miss Cardew's family solicitors are Messrs Markby, Markby,
and Markby.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Markby, Markby, and Markby? A firm of the
very highest position in their profession. Indeed I am told that one
of the Mr Markby's is occasionally to be seen at dinner parties.
So far I am satisfied.\\
~~Jack (very irritably). How extremely kind of you, Lady Bracknell!
I have also in my possession, you will be pleased to hear, certificates
of Miss Cardew's birth, baptism, whooping cough, registration,
vaccination, confirmation, and the measles; both the German and
the English variety.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Ah! A life crowded with incident, I see; though
perhaps somewhat too exciting for a young girl. I am not myself
in favour of premature experiences. (Rises, looks at her watch.)
Gwendolen! the time approaches for our departure. We have not
a moment to lose. As a matter of form, Mr Worthing, I had better
ask you if Miss Cardew has any little fortune?\\
~~Jack. Oh! about a hundred and thirty thousand pounds in the Funds.
That is all. Good-bye, Lady Bracknell. So pleased to have seen you.\\
~~Lady Bracknell (sitting down again). A moment, Mr Worthing.
A hundred and thirty thousand pounds! And in the Funds! Miss
Cardew seems to me a most attractive young lady, now that I look
at her. Few girls of the present day have any really solid qualities,
any of the qualities that last, and improve with time. We live,
I regret to say, in an age of surfaces. (To Cecily.) Come over here,
dear. (Cecily goes across.) Pretty child! your dress is sadly simple,
and your hair seems almost as Nature might have left it. But we
can soon alter all that. A thoroughly experienced French maid
produces a really marvellous result in a very brief space of time.
I remember reccomending one to young Lady Lancing, and after
three months her own husband did not know her.\\
~~Jack. And after six months nobody knew her.\\
~~Lady Bracknell (glares at Jack for a few moments. Then bends, with
a practised smile to Cecily). Kindly turn round, sweet child.
(Cecily turns completely round.) No, the side view is what I want.
(Cecily presents her profile.) Yes, quite as I expected. There are
distinct social possibilities in your profile. The two weak points in
our age are its want of principle and its want of profile. The chin
a little higher, dear. Style largely depends on the way the chin is
worn. They are worn very high, just at present. Algernon!\\
~~Algernon. Yes, Aunt Augusta!\\
~~Lady Bracknell. There are distinct social possiblities in Miss
Cardew's profile.\\
~~Algernon. Cecily is the sweetest, dearest, prettiest girl in the whole
world. And I don't care twopence about social possibilities.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Never speak disrespectfully of Society, Algernon.
Only people who can't get into it do that. (To Cecily.) Dear
child, of course you know that Algernon has nothing but his
debts to depend upon. But I do not approve of mercenary marriages.
When I married Lord Bracknell I had no fortune of any kind.
But I never dreamed for a moment of allowing that to stand
in my way. Well, I suppose I must give my consent.\\
~~Algernon. Thank you, Aunt Augusta.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Cecily, you may kiss me!\\
~~Cecily (kisses her). Thank you, Lady Bracknell.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. You may also address me as Aunt Augusta for
the future.\\
~~Cecily. Thank you, Aunt Augusta.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. The marriage, I think, had better take place
quite soon.\\
~~Algernon. Thank you, Aunt Augusta.\\
~~Cecily. Thank you, Aunt Augusta.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. To speak frankly, I am not in favour of long
engagements. They give people the opportunity of finding out
each other's character before marriage, which I think is never
advisable.\\
~~Jack. I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Lady Bracknell, but
this engagement is quite out of the question. I am Miss Cardew's
guardian, and she cannot marry without my consent until she
comes of age. That consent I absolutely decline to give.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Upon what grounds, may I ask? Algernon is an
extremely, I may almost say an ostentatiously, eligible young man.
He has nothing, but he looks everything. What more can one
desire?\\
~~Jack. It pains me very much to have to speak frankly to you, Lady
Bracknell, about your nephew, but the fact is that I do not approve
at all of his moral character. I suspect him of being untruthful.
(Algernon and Cecily look at him in indignant amazement.)\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Untruthful! My nephew Algernon? Impossible!
He is an Oxonian.\\
~~Jack. I fear there can be no possible doubt about the matter. This
afternooon during my temporary absence in London on an important
question of romance, he obtained admission to my house by means
of the false pretence of being my brother. Under an assumed name
he drank, I've just been informed by my butler, an etire pint
bottle of my Perrier-Jouet, Brut, '89; wine I was specially reserving
for myself. Continuing his desgraceful deception, he succeeded in
the course of the afternoon in alienating the affections of my only
ward. He subsequently stayed to tea, and devoured every single
muffin. And what makes his conduct all the more heartless is, that
he was perfectly well aware from the first that I have no brother,
that I never had a brother, and that I don't intend to have a brother,
not even of any kind. I distinctly told him so myself yesterday
afternoon.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Ahem! Mr Worthing, after careful consideration
I have decided entirely to overlook my nephew's conduct
to you.\\
~~Jack. That is very generous of you, Lady Bracknell. My own
decision, however, is unalterable. I decline to give my consent.\\
~~Lady Bracknell (to Cecily). Come here, sweet child. (Cecily
goes over.) How old are you, dear?\\
~~Cecily. Well, I am really only eighteen, but I always admit to
twenty when I go to evening parties.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. You are perfectly right in making some slight
alteration. Indeed, no woman should ever be quite accurate about
her age. It looks so calculating ... (In a meditative manner.) Eighteen,
but admitting to twenty at evening parties. Well, it will not be
very long before you are of age and free from the restraints of
tutelage. So I don't think your guardian's consent is, after all, a
matter of any importance.\\
~~Jack. Pray excuse me, Lady Bracknell, for interrupting you again,
but it is only fair to tell you that according to the terms of her
grandfather's will Miss Cardew does not come legally of age till
she is thirty-five.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. That does not seem to me to be a grave objection.
Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women
of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice,
remained thirty-five for years. Lady Dumbleton is an instance in
point. To my own knowledge she has been thirty-five ever since
she arrived at the age of forty, which was many years ago now.
I see no reason why our dear Cecily should not be even still more
attractive at the age you mention than she is at present. There will
be a large accumulation of property.\\
~~ Cecily. Algy, could you wait for me till I was thirty-five?\\
~~Algernon. Of course I could, Cecily. You know I could.\\
~~Cecily. Yes, I felt it instinctively, but I couldn't wait all that time.
I hate waiting even five minutes for anybody. It always makes me
rather cross. I am not punctual myself, I know, but I do like
punctuality in others, and waiting, even to be married, is quite out
of the question.\\
~~Algernon. Then what is to be done, Cecily?\\
~~Cecily. I don't know, Mr Moncrieff.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. My dear Mr Worthing, as Miss Cardew states
positively that she cannot wait till she is thirty-five---a remark
which I am bound to say seems to me to show a somewhat impatient
nature---I would beg of you to reconsider your decision.\\
~~Jack. But my dear Lady Bracknell, the matter is entirely in your
own hands. The moment you consent to my marriage with
Gwendolen, I will most gladly allow your nephew to form an
alliance with my ward.\\
~~Lady Bracknell (rising and drawing herself up). You must be quite
aware that what you propose is out of the question.\\
~~Jack. Then a passionate celibacy is all that any of us can look
forward to.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. That is not the destiny I propose for Gwendolen.
Algernon, of course, can choose for himself. (Pulls out her watch.)
Come, dear (Gwendolen rises), we have already missed five, if
not six, trains. To miss any more might expose us to comment on
the platform.\\
(Enter Dr Chasuble.)\\
~~Chasuble. Everything is quite ready for the christenings.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. The christenings, sir! Is not that somewhat
premature?\\
~~Chasuble (looking rather puzzled, and pointing to Jack and
Algernon). Both these gentlemen have expressed a desire for immediate
baptism.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. At their age? The idea is grotesque and irreligious!
Algernon, I forbid you to be baptized. I will not hear of such
excesses. Lord Bracknell would be highly displeased if he learned
that that was the way in which you wasted your time and
money.\\
~~Chasuble. Am I to understand then that there are to be no christenings
at all this afternoon?\\
~~Jack. I don't think that, as things are now, it would be of much
practical value to either of us, Dr Chasuble.\\
~~Chasuble. I am grieved to hear such sentiments from you, Mr
Worthing. They savour of the heretical views of the Anabaptists,
views that I have completely refuted in four of my unpublished
sermons. However, as your present mood seems to be one
peculiarly secular, I will return to the church at once. Indeed, I have
just been informed by the pew-opener that for the last hour and a
half Miss Prism has been waiting for me in the vestry.\\
~~Lady Bracknell (starting). Miss Prism! Did I hear you mention a
Miss Prism?\\
~~Chasuble. Yes, Lady Bracknell. I am on my way to join her.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Pray allow me to detain you for a moment.
This matter may prove to be one of vital importance to Lord
Bracknell and myself. Is this Miss Prism a female of repellent aspect,
remotely connected with education?\\
~~Chasuble (somewhat indignantly). She is the most cultivated of
ladies, and the very picture of respectablity.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. It is obviously the same person. May I ask what
position she holds in your household?\\
~~Chasuble (severely). I am a celibate, madam.\\
~~Jack (interposing). Miss Prism, Lady Bracknell, has been for the last
three years Miss Cardew's esteemed governess and valued companion.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. In spite of what I hear of her, I must see her at
once. Let her be sent for.\\
~~Chasuble (looking off). She approaches; she is nigh.\\
(Enter Miss Prism hurriedly.)\\
~~Miss Prism. I was told you expected me in the vestry, dear Canon.
I have been waiting for you there for an hour and three-quarters. (Catches
sight of Lady Bracknell, who has fixed her with a stony
glare. Miss Prism grows pale and quails. She looks anxiously round as
if desirous to escape.)\\
~~Lady Bracknell (in a severe, judicial voice). Prism! (Miss Prism
bows her head in shame.) Come here, Prism! (Miss Prism approaches
in a humble manner.) Prism! Where is that baby? (General consternation.
The Canon starts back in horror. Algernon and Jack
pretend to be anxious to shield Cecily and Gwendolen from hearing
the details of a terrible public scandal.) Twenty-eight years ago, Prism,
you left Lord Bracknell's house, Number 104, Upper Grosvenor
Square, in charge of a perambulator that contained a baby of the
male sex. You never returned. A few weeks later, through the
elaborate investigations of the Metropolitan police, the perambulator
was discovered at midnight standing by itself in a remote
corner of Bayswater. It contained the manuscript of a three-volume
nevel of more than usually revolting sentimentality. (Miss Prism
starts in involuntary indignation.) But the baby was not there. (Every
one looks at Miss Prism.) Prism! Where is that baby? (A pause.)\\
~~Miss Prism. Lady Bracknell, I admit with shame that I do not know.
I only wish I did. The plain facts of the case are these. On the
morning of the day you mention, a day that is for ever branded on
my memory, I prepared as usual to take the baby out in its perambulator.
I had also with me a somewhat old, but capacious hand-bag
in which I had intended to place the manuscript of a work of
fiction that I had written during my few unoccupied hours. In a
moment of mental abstraction, for which I can never forgive
myself, I deposited the manuscript in the bassinette and placed the
baby in the hand-bag.\\
~~Jack (who has been listening attentively). But where did you deposit
the hand-bag?\\
~~Miss Prism. Do not ask me, Mr Worthing.\\
~~Jack. Miss Prism, this is a matter of no small importance to me.
I insist on knowing where you deposited the hand-bag that contained
that infant.\\
~~Miss Prism. I left it in the cloak-room of one of the larger railway
stations in London.\\
~~Jack. What railway station?\\
~~Miss Prism (quite crushed). Victoria. The Brighton line. (Sinks into
a chair.)\\
~~Jack. I must retire to my room for a moment. Gwendolen, wait
here for me.\\
~~Gwendolen. If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all
my life. (Exit Jack in great excitement.)\\
~~Chasuble. What do you think this means, Lady Bracknell?\\
~~Lady Bracknell. I dare not even suspect, Dr Chasuble. I need
hardly tell you that in families of high position strange coindicences
are not supposed to occur. They are hardly considered the thing.\\
(Noises heard overhead as if some one was throwing trunks about.
Every one looks up.)\\
~~Cecily. Uncle Jack seems strangely agitated.\\
~~Chasuble. Your guardian has a very emotional nature.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. This noise is extremely unpleasant. It sounds as
if he was having an argument. I dislike arguments of any kind.
They are always vulgar, and often convincing.\\
~~Chasuble (looking up). It has stopped now. (The noise is redoubled.)\\
~~Lady Bracknell. I wish he would arrive at some conclusion.\\
~~Gwendolen. This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.\\
(Enter Jack with a hand-bag of black leather in his hand.)\\
~~Jack (rushing over to Miss Prism). Is this the hand-bag, Miss Prism?
Examine it carefully before you speak. The happiness of more than
one life depends on your answer.\\
~~Miss Prism (calmly). It seems to be mine. Yes, here is the injury it
received through the upsetting of a Gower Street omnibus in
younger and happier days. Here is the stain on the lining caused
by the explosion of a temperance beverage, an incident that occurred
at Leamington. And here, on the lock, are my initials. I had forgotten
that in an extravagant mood I had had them placed there.
The bag is undoutedly mine. I am delighted to have it so unexpectedly
restored to me. It has been a great inconvenience being
without it all these years.\\
~~Jack (in a pathetic voice). Miss Prism, more is restored to you than
this hand-bag. I was the baby you placed in it.\\
~~Miss Prism (amazed). You?\\
~~Jack (embracing her). Yes ... mother!\\
~~Miss Prism (recoiling in indignant astonishment). Mr Worthing. I am
unmarried!\\
~~Jack. Unmarried! I do not deny that is a serious blow. But after all,
who has the right to cast a stone against one who has suffered?
Cannot repentance wipe out an act of folly? Why should there be
one law for men, and another for women? Mother, I forgive you.
(Tries to embrace her again.)\\
~~Miss Prism (still more indignant). Mr Worthing, there is some error.
(Pointing to Lady Bracknell.) There is the lady who can tell you
who you really are.\\
~~Jack (after a pause). Lady Bracknell, I hate to seem inquisitive, but
would you kindly inform me who I am?\\
~~Lady Bracknell. I am afraid that the news I have to give you will
not altoghether please you. You are the son of my poor sister, Mrs
Mocrieff, and consequently Algernon's elder brother.\\
~~Jack. Algy's elder brother! Then I have a brother after all. I knew
I had a brother! I always said I had a brother! Cecily---how could
you have ever doubted that I had a brother? (Seizes hold of Algernon.)
Dr Chasuble, my unfortunate brother. Miss Prism, my
unfortunate brother. Gwendolen, my unfortunate brother. Algy,
you young scoundrel, you will have to treat me with more respect
in the future. You have never behaved to me like a brother in all
your life.\\
~~Algernon. Well, not till to-day, old boy, I admit, I did my best,
however, though I was out of practice.\\
(Shakes hands.)\\
~~Gwendolen (to Jack). My own! But what own are you? What
is your Christian name, now that you have become some one else?\\
~~Jack. Good heavens! ... I had quite forgotten that point. Your
decision on the subject of my name is irrevocable, I suppose?\\
~~Gwendolen. I never change, except in my affections.\\
~~Cecily. What a noble nature you have, Gwendolen!\\
~~Jack. Then the question had better be cleared up at once. Aunt
Augusta, a moment. At the time when Miss Prism left me in the hand-bag,
had I been christened already?\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Every luxury that money could buy, including
christening, had been lavished on you by your fond and doting
parents.\\
~~Jack. Then I was christened! That is settled. Now, what name was
I given? Let me know the worst.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Being the eldest son you were naturally christened
after your father.\\
~~Jack (irritably). Yes, but what was my father's Christian name?\\
~~Lady Bracknell (meditatively). I cannot at the present moment
recall what the General's Christian name was. But I have no doubt
he had one. He was eccentric, I admit. But only in later years.
And that was the result of the Indian climate, and marriage, and
indigestion, and other things of that kind.\\
~~Jack. Algy! Can't you recollect what our father's Christian name
was?\\
~~Algernon. My dear boy, we were never even on speaking terms.
He died before I was a year old.\\
~~Jack. His name would appear in the Army Lists of the period, I
suppose, Aunt Augusta?\\
~~Lady Bracknell. The General was essentially a man of peace,
except in his domestic life. But I have no doubt his name would
appear in any military directory.\\
~~Jack. The Army Lists of the last forty years are here. These delightful
records should have been my constant study. (Rushes to bookcase and
tears the books out.) M. Generals ... Mallam, Maxbohm, Magley---
what ghastly names they have---Markby, Misgby, Mobbs, Moncrieff!
Lieutenant 1840, Captain, Lieutenant-Colones, Colonel,
General 1869, Christian names, Ernest John. (Puts book very quietly
down and speaks quite calmly.) I always told you, Gwendolen, my
name was Ernest, didn't I? Well, it is Ernest after all. I mean it
naturally is Ernest.\\
~~Lady Bracknell. Yes, I remember now that the General was called
Ernest. I knew I had some particular reason for disliking the name.\\
~~Gwendolen. Ernest! My own Ernest! I felt from the first that you
could have no other name!\\
~~Jack. Gwendolen, it is a terrible thing for a man to find out suddenly
that all his life he has been speaking nothing but the truth. Can you
forgive me?\\
~~Gwendolen. I can. For I feel that you are sure to change.\\
~~Jack. My own one!\\
~~Chasuble (to Miss Prism). Laetitia! (Embraces her.)\\
~~Miss Prism (enthusiastically). Frederick! At last!\\
~~Algernon. Cecily! (Embraces her.) At last!\\
~~Jack. Gwendolen! (Embraces her). At last!\\
~~Lady Bracknell. My nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of
triviality.\\
~~Jack. On the contrary, Aunt Augusta, I've now realized for the
first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Earnest.\\
\\
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Tableau\\
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Curtain\\




}


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