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GORING. No, father.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Lady Chiltern, you are a sensible woman, the most sensible woman in London, the most sensible woman I know. Will you kindly prevent your husband from making such a … from taking such … Will you kindly do that, Lady Chiltern?

      LADY CHILTERN. I think my husband in right in his determination, Lord Caversham. I approve of it.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. You approve of it? Good heavens!

      LADY CHILTERN. [Taking her husband’s hand.] I admire him for it. I admire him immensely for it. I have never admired him so much before. He is finer than even I thought him. [To SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] You will go and write your letter to the Prime Minister now, won’t you? Don’t hesitate about it, Robert.

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With a touch of bitterness.] I suppose I had better write it at once. Such offers are not repeated. I will ask you to excuse me for a moment, Lord Caversham.

      LADY CHILTERN. I may come with you, Robert, may I not?

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes, Gertrude.

      [LADY CHILTERN goes out with him.]

      LORD CAVERSHAM. What is the matter with this family? Something wrong here, eh? [Tapping his forehead.] Idiocy? Hereditary, I suppose. Both of them, too. Wife as well as husband. Very sad. Very sad indeed! And they are not an old family. Can’t understand it.

      LORD GORING. It is not idiocy, father, I assure you.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. What is it then, sir?

      LORD GORING. [After some hesitation.] Well, it is what is called nowadays a high moral tone, father. That is all.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Hate these new-fangled names. Same thing as we used to call idiocy fifty years ago. Shan’t stay in this house any longer.

      LORD GORING. [Taking his arm.] Oh! just go in here for a moment, father. Third palm tree to the left, the usual palm tree.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. What, sir?

      LORD GORING. I beg your pardon, father, I forgot. The conservatory, father, the conservatory — there is some one there I want you to talk to.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. What about, sir?

      LORD GORING. About me, father,

      LORD CAVERSHAM. [Grimly.] Not a subject on which much eloquence is possible.

      LORD GORING. No, father; but the lady is like me. She doesn’t care much for eloquence in others. She thinks it a little loud.

      [LORD CAVERSHAM goes out into the conservatory. LADY CHILTERN enters.]

      LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, why are you playing Mrs. Cheveley’s cards?

      LADY CHILTERN. [Startled.] I don’t understand you.

      LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley made an attempt to ruin your husband. Either to drive him from public life, or to make him adopt a dishonourable position. From the latter tragedy you saved him. The former you are now thrusting on him. Why should you do him the wrong Mrs. Cheveley tried to do and failed?

      LADY CHILTERN. Lord Goring?

      LORD GORING. [Pulling himself together for a great effort, and showing the philosopher that underlies the dandy.] Lady Chiltern, allow me. You wrote me a letter last night in which you said you trusted me and wanted my help. Now is the moment when you really want my help, now is the time when you have got to trust me, to trust in my counsel and judgment. You love Robert. Do you want to kill his love for you? What sort of existence will he have if you rob him of the fruits of his ambition, if you take him from the splendour of a great political career, if you close the doors of public life against him, if you condemn him to sterile failure, he who was made for triumph and success? Women are not meant to judge us, but to forgive us when we need forgiveness. Pardon, not punishment, is their mission. Why should you scourge him with rods for a sin done in his youth, before he knew you, before he knew himself? A man’s life is of more value than a woman’s. It has larger issues, wider scope, greater ambitions. A woman’s life revolves in curves of emotions. It is upon lines of intellect that a man’s life progresses. Don’t make any terrible mistake, Lady Chiltern. A woman who can keep a man’s love, and love him in return, has done all the world wants of women, or should want of them.

      LADY CHILTERN. [Troubled and hesitating.] But it is my husband himself who wishes to retire from public life. He feels it is his duty. It was he who first said so.

      LORD GORING. Rather than lose your love, Robert would do anything, wreck his whole career, as he is on the brink of doing now. He is making for you a terrible sacrifice. Take my advice, Lady Chiltern, and do not accept a sacrifice so great. If you do, you will live to repent it bitterly. We men and women are not made to accept such sacrifices from each other. We are not worthy of them. Besides, Robert has been punished enough.

      LADY CHILTERN. We have both been punished. I set him up too high.

      LORD GORING. [With deep feeling in his voice.] Do not for that reason set him down now too low. If he has fallen from his altar, do not thrust him into the mire. Failure to Robert would be the very mire of shame. Power is his passion. He would lose everything, even his power to feel love. Your husband’s life is at this moment in your hands, your husband’s love is in your hands. Don’t mar both for him.

      [Enter SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.]

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, here is the draft of my letter. Shall I read it to you?

      LADY CHILTERN. Let me see it.

      [SIR ROBERT hands her the letter. She reads it, and then, with a gesture of passion, tears it up.]

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What are you doing?

      LADY CHILTERN. A man’s life is of more value than a woman’s. It has larger issues, wider scope, greater ambitions. Our lives revolve in curves of emotions. It is upon lines of intellect that a man’s life progresses. I have just learnt this, and much else with it, from Lord Goring. And I will not spoil your life for you, nor see you spoil it as a sacrifice to me, a useless sacrifice!

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude! Gertrude!

      LADY CHILTERN. You can forget. Men easily forget. And I forgive. That is how women help the world. I see that now.

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Deeply overcome by emotion, embraces her.] My wife! my wife! [To LORD GORING.] Arthur, it seems that I am always to be in your debt.

      LORD GORING. Oh dear no, Robert. Your debt is to Lady Chiltern, not to me!

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I owe you much. And now tell me what you were going to ask me just now as Lord Caversham came in.

      LORD GORING. Robert, you are your sister’s guardian, and I want your consent to my marriage with her. That is all.

      LADY CHILTERN. Oh, I am so glad! I am so glad! [Shakes hands with LORD GORING.]

      LORD GORING. Thank you, Lady Chiltern.

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With a troubled look.] My sister to be your wife?

      LORD GORING. Yes.

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Speaking with great firmness.] Arthur, I am very sorry, but the thing is quite out of the question. I have to think of Mabel’s future happiness. And I don’t think her happiness would be safe in your hands. And I cannot have her sacrificed!

      LORD GORING. Sacrificed!

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes, utterly sacrificed. Loveless marriages are horrible. But there is one thing worse than an absolutely loveless marriage. A marriage in which there is love, but on one side only; faith, but on one side only; devotion, but on one side only, and in which of the two hearts one is sure to be broken.

      LORD GORING. But I love Mabel. No other woman has any place in my life.

      LADY CHILTERN. Robert, if they love each other, why should they not be married?

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

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