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
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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 an kind.
GWENDOLEN. I am afraid it is quite clear, Cecily, that neither of
us is engaged to be married to any one.
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,
thoroughlyexperienced young 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 stock-brokers do that, and then merely
at dinner parties.
JACK. How can you 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, that 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 arrangements 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
extremelyprobable 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
some one 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
still continues eating.]
ACT DROP
THIRD ACT
SCENE
Morning-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
satisfactoryexplanation, 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 principles 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?