The Wisdom of Oscar Wilde (14 page)
They rise and proceed to go off.
S
IR
J
OHN
offers to carry
L
ADY
S
TUTFIELD
’s
cloak.
L
ADY
C
AROLINE:
John! If you would allow your nephew to look after Lady Stutfield’s cloak, you might help me with my work-basket.
Enter
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH
and
M
RS
. A
LLONBY
.
S
IR
J
OHN:
Certainly, my love.
Exeunt.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Curious thing, plain women are always jealous of their husbands, beautiful women never are!
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Beautiful women never have time. They are always so occupied in being jealous of other people’s husbands.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
I should have thought Lady Caroline would have grown tired of conjugal anxiety by this time! Sir John is her fourth!
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
So much marriage is certainly not becoming. Twenty years of romance make a woman look like a ruin; but twenty years of marriage make her something like a public building.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Twenty years of romance! Is there such a thing?
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Not in our day. Women have become too brilliant. Nothing spoils a romance so much as a sense of humour in the woman.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Or the want of it in the man.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
You are quite right. In a Temple every one should be serious, except the thing that is worshipped.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
And that should be man?
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Women kneel so gracefully; men don’t.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
You are thinking of Lady Stutfield!
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
I assure you I have not thought of Lady Stutfield for the last quarter of an hour.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Is she such a mystery?
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
She is more than a mystery—she is a mood.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Moods don’t last.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
It is their chief charm.
Enter
H
ESTER
and
G
ERALD
.
G
ERALD
: Lord Illingworth, every one has been congratulating me, Lady Hunstanton and Lady Caroline, and … every one. I hope I shall make a good secretary.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
You will be the pattern secretary, Gerald.
(Talks to him.)
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
You enjoy country life, Miss Worsley?
H
ESTER
: Very much, indeed.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Don’t find yourself longing for a London dinner-party?
H
ESTER
: I dislike London dinner-parties.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
I adore them. The clever people never listen, and the stupid people never talk.
H
ESTER
: I think the stupid people talk a great deal.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Ah, I never listen!
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
My dear boy, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have made you the offer. It is because I like you so much that I want to have you with me.
Exit
H
ESTER
with
G
ERALD
.
Charming fellow, Gerald Arbuthnot!
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
He is very nice; very nice indeed. But I can’t stand the American young lady.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Why?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
She told me yesterday, and in quite a loud voice too, that she was only eighteen. It was most annoying.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
One should never trust a woman who tells one her real age. A woman who would tell one that, would tell one anything.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
She is a Puritan besides-----
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Ah, that is inexcusable. I don’t mind plain women being Puritans. It is the only excuse they have for being plain. But she is decidedly pretty. I admire her immensely.
(Looks steadfastly at
MRS. Allonby.)
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
What a thoroughly bad man you must be!
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
What do you call a bad man?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
The sort of man who admires innocence.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
And a bad woman?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Oh! the sort of woman a man never gets tired of.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
You are severe—on yourself.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Define us as a sex.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Sphinxes without secrets.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Does that include the Puritan women?
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Do you know, I don’t believe in the existence of Puritan women? I don’t think there is a woman in the world who would not be a little flattered if one made love to her. It is that which makes women so irresistibly adorable.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
You think there is no woman in the world who would object to being kissed?
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Very few.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Miss Worsley would not let you kiss her.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Are you sure?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Quite.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
What do you think she’d do if I kissed her?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Either marry you, or strike you across the face with her glove. What would you do if she struck you across the face with her glove?
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Fall in love with her, probably.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Then it is lucky you are not going to kiss her!
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Is that a challenge?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
It is an arrow shot into the air.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Don’t you know that I always succeed in whatever I try ?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
I am sorry to hear it. We women adore failures. They lean on us.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
You worship successes. You cling to them.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
We are the laurels to hide their baldness.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
And they need you always, except at the moment of triumph.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
They are uninteresting then.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
How tantalising you are?
(A pause.)
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Lord Illingworth, there is one thing I shall always like you for.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Only one thing? And I have so many bad qualities.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Ah, don’t be too conceited about them. You may lose them as you grow old.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
I never intend to grow old. The soul is born old but grows young. That is the comedy of life.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
And the body is born young and grows old. That is life’s tragedy.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Its comedy also, sometimes. But what is the mysterious reason why you will always like me?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
It is that you have never made love to me.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
I have never done anything else.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Really? I have not noticed it.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
How unfortunate! It might have been a tragedy for both of us.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
We should each have survived.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
One can survive everything nowadays, except death, and live down anything except a good reputation.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Have you tried a good reputation?
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
It is one of the many annoyances to which I have never been subjected.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
It may come.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Why do you threaten me?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
I will tell you when you have kissed the Puritan.
Enter Footman.
F
RANCIS
: Tea is served in the Yellow Drawing-room, my lord.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Tell her ladyship we are coming in.
F
RANCIS
: Yes, my lord.
(Exit.)
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Shall we go in to tea?
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Do you like such simple pleasures?
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
I adore simple pleasures. They are the last refuge of the complex. But, if you wish, let us stay here. Yes, let us stay here. The Book of Life begins with a man and a woman in a garden.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
It ends with Revelations.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
You fence divinely. But the button has come off your foil.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
I have still the mask.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
It makes your eyes lovelier.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Thank you. Come.
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH
(sees
MRS. Arbuthnot’s
letter on table,
and takes it up and looks at envelope):
What a curious handwriting! It reminds me of the handwriting of a woman I used to know years ago.
M
RS
. A
LLONBY:
Who?
L
ORD
I
LLINGWORTH:
Oh! no one. No one in particular. A woman of no importance.
(Throws letter down, and passes up the steps of the terrace with
MRS. Allonby.
They smile at each other.)
T
HE
I
MPORTANCE OF
B
EING
E
ARNEST
(1895)
L
ADY
B
RACKNELL
and
Algernon
go into the music-room,
Gwendolen
remains behind.
J
ACK:
Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax.
G
WENDOLEN:
Pray don’t talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I always feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me so nervous.
J
ACK:
I do mean something else.
G
WENDOLEN:
I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong.
J
ACK:
And I would like to be allowed to take advantage of Lady Bracknell’s temporary absence …
G
WENDOLEN:
I would certainly advise you to do so. Mamma has a way of coming back suddenly into a room that I have often had to speak to her about.
J
ACK
(nervously):
Miss Fairfax, ever since I met you I have admired you more than any girl… I have ever met since … I met you.
G
WENDOLEN:
Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact. And I often wish that in public, at any rate, you had been more demonstrative. For me you have always had an irresistible fascination. Even before I met you I was far from indifferent to you. (Jack
looks at her in amazement.)
We live, as I hope you know, Mr. Worthing, in an age of ideals. The fact is constantly mentioned in the more expensive monthly magazines, and has now reached the provincial pulpits, I am told; and my ideal has always been to love some one of the name of Ernest. There is something in that name that inspires absolute confidence. The moment Algernon first mentioned to me that he had a friend called Ernest, I knew I was destined to love you. The name, fortunately for my peace of mind, is, as far as my own experience goes, extremely rare.
