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not be married?

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur cannot bring Mabel the love that she deserves.

      LORD GORING. What reason have you for saying that?

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [After a pause.] Do you really require me to tell you?

      LORD GORING. Certainly I do.

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. As you choose. When I called on you yesterday evening I found Mrs. Cheveley concealed in your rooms. It was between ten and eleven o’clock at night. I do not wish to say anything more. Your relations with Mrs. Cheveley have, as I said to you last night, nothing whatsoever to do with me. I know you were engaged to be married to her once. The fascination she exercised over you then seems to have returned. You spoke to me last night of her as of a woman pure and stainless, a woman whom you respected and honoured. That may be so. But I cannot give my sister’s life into your hands. It would be wrong of me. It would be unjust, infamously unjust to her.

      LORD GORING. I have nothing more to say.

      LADY CHILTERN. Robert, it was not Mrs. Cheveley whom Lord Goring expected last night.

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Not Mrs. Cheveley! Who was it then?

      LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern!

      LADY CHILTERN. It was your own wife. Robert, yesterday afternoon Lord Goring told me that if ever I was in trouble I could come to him for help, as he was our oldest and best friend. Later on, after that terrible scene in this room, I wrote to him telling him that I trusted him, that I had need of him, that I was coming to him for help and advice. [SIR ROBERT CHILTERN takes the letter out of his pocket.] Yes, that letter. I didn’t go to Lord Goring’s, after all. I felt that it is from ourselves alone that help can come. Pride made me think that. Mrs. Cheveley went. She stole my letter and sent it anonymously to you this morning, that you should think … Oh! Robert, I cannot tell you what she wished you to think… .

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What! Had I fallen so low in your eyes that you thought that even for a moment I could have doubted your goodness? Gertrude, Gertrude, you are to me the white image of all good things, and sin can never touch you. Arthur, you can go to Mabel, and you have my best wishes! Oh! stop a moment. There is no name at the beginning of this letter. The brilliant Mrs. Cheveley does not seem to have noticed that. There should be a name.

      LADY CHILTERN. Let me write yours. It is you I trust and need. You and none else.

      LORD GORING. Well, really, Lady Chiltern, I think I should have back my own letter.

      LADY CHILTERN. [Smiling.] No; you shall have Mabel. [Takes the letter and writes her husband’s name on it.]

      LORD GORING. Well, I hope she hasn’t changed her mind. It’s nearly twenty minutes since I saw her last.

      [Enter MABEL CHILTERN and LORD CAVERSHAM.]

      MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, I think your father’s conversation much more improving than yours. I am only going to talk to Lord Caversham in the future, and always under the usual palm tree.

      LORD GORING. Darling! [Kisses her.]

      LORD CAVERSHAM. [Considerably taken aback.] What does this mean, sir? You don’t mean to say that this charming, clever young lady has been so foolish as to accept you?

      LORD GORING. Certainly, father! And Chiltern’s been wise enough to accept the seat in the Cabinet.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. I am very glad to hear that, Chiltern … I congratulate you, sir. If the country doesn’t go to the dogs or the Radicals, we shall have you Prime Minister, some day.

      [Enter MASON.]

      MASON. Luncheon is on the table, my Lady!

      [MASON goes out.]

      MABEL CHILTERN. You’ll stop to luncheon, Lord Caversham, won’t you?

      LORD CAVERSHAM. With pleasure, and I’ll drive you down to Downing Street afterwards, Chiltern. You have a great future before you, a great future. Wish I could say the same for you, sir. [To LORD GORING.] But your career will have to be entirely domestic.

      LORD GORING. Yes, father, I prefer it domestic.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. And if you don’t make this young lady an ideal husband, I’ll cut you off with a shilling.

      MABEL CHILTERN. An ideal husband! Oh, I don’t think I should like that. It sounds like something in the next world.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. What do you want him to be then, dear?

      MABEL CHILTERN. He can be what he chooses. All I want is to be … to be … oh! a real wife to him.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Upon my word, there is a good deal of common sense in that, Lady Chiltern.

      [They all go out except SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. He sinks in a chair, wrapt in thought. After a little time LADY CHILTERN returns to look for him.]

      LADY CHILTERN. [Leaning over the back of the chair.] Aren’t you coming in, Robert?

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Taking her hand.] Gertrude, is it love you feel for me, or is it pity merely?

      LADY CHILTERN. [Kisses him.] It is love, Robert. Love, and only love. For both of us a new life is beginning.

      Curtain

      The Importance of Being Earnest

       Table of Contents

       THE PERSONS IN THE PLAY

       ACT ONE

       ACT TWO

       ACT THREE

      THE PERSONS IN THE PLAY

       Table of Contents

      John Worthing, J.P.

       Algernon Moncrieff

       Rev. Canon Chasuble, D.D.

       Merriman, Butler

       Lane, Manservant

       Lady Bracknell

       Hon. Gwendolen Fairfax

       Cecily Cardew

ACT ONE

       Table of Contents

      SCENE

      Morning-room in Algernon’s flat in Half-Moon Street. The room is luxuriously and artistically furnished. The sound of a piano is heard in the adjoining room.

      [Lane is arranging afternoon tea on the table, and after the music has ceased, Algernon enters.]

      Algernon. Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?

      Lane. I didn’t think it polite to listen, sir.

      Algernon. I’m sorry for that, for your sake. I don’t play accurately — any one can play accurately — but I play with wonderful expression. As far as the piano is concerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep science for Life.

      Lane. Yes, sir.

      Algernon. And, speaking of the science of Life, have you got the cucumber sandwiches cut for Lady Bracknell?

      Lane. Yes, sir. [Hands them on a salver.]

      Algernon.

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