LITMIR.BIZ

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anxiety by this time! Sir John is her fourth!

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: 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.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Twenty years of romance! Is there such a thing?

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Not in our day. Women have become too brilliant. Nothing spoils a romance so much as a sense of humour in the woman.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Or the want of it in the man.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: You are quite right. In a Temple every one should be serious, except the thing that is worshipped.

      MRS. ALLONBY: And that should be man?

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Women kneel so gracefully; men don’t.

      MRS. ALLONBY: You are thinking of Lady Stutfield!

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: I assure you I have not thought of Lady Stutfield for the last quarter of an hour.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Is she such a mystery?

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: She is more than a mystery – she is a mood.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Moods don’t last.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: It is their chief charm.

      Enter HESTER and GERALD.

      GERALD: Lord Illingworth, every one has been congratulating me, Lady Hunstanton and Lady Caroline, and … every one. I hope I shall make a good secretary.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: You will be the pattern secretary, Gerald. (Talks to him.)

      MRS. ALLONBY: You enjoy country life, Miss Worsley?

      HESTER: Very much, indeed.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Don’t find yourself longing for a London dinner-party?

      HESTER: I dislike London dinner-parties.

      MRS. ALLONBY: I adore them. The clever people never listen, and the stupid people never talk.

      HESTER: I think the stupid people talk a great deal.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Ah, I never listen!

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: 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 HESTER with GERALD.

      Charming fellow, Gerald Arbuthnot!

      MRS. ALLONBY: He is very nice; very nice indeed. But I can’t stand the American young lady.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Why?

      MRS. ALLONBY: She told me yesterday, and in quite a loud voice too, that she was only eighteen. It was most annoying.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: One should never trust a woman who tells one her real age. A woman who would tell one that, would tell one anything.

      MRS. ALLONBY: She is a Puritan besides –

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: 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.)

      MRS. ALLONBY: What a thoroughly bad man you must be!

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: What do you call a bad man?

      MRS. ALLONBY: The sort of man who admires innocence.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: And a bad woman?

      MRS. ALLONBY: Oh! The sort of woman a man never gets tired of.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: You are severe – on yourself.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Define us as a sex.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Sphinxes without secrets.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Does that include the Puritan women?

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: 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.

      MRS. ALLONBY: You think there is no woman in the world who would object to being kissed?

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Very few.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Miss Worsley would not let you kiss her.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Are you sure?

      MRS. ALLONBY: Quite.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: What do you think she’d do if I kissed her?

      MRS. ALLONBY: 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?

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Fall in love with her, probably.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Then it is lucky you are not going to kiss her!

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Is that a challenge?

      MRS. ALLONBY: It is an arrow shot into the air.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Don’t you know that I always succeed in whatever I try?

      MRS. ALLONBY: I am sorry to hear it. We women adore failures. They lean on us.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: You worship successes. You cling to them.

      MRS. ALLONBY: We are the laurels to hide their baldness.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: And they need you always, except at the moment of triumph.

      MRS. ALLONBY: They are uninteresting then.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: How tantalising you are! (A pause.)

      MRS. ALLONBY: Lord Illingworth, there is one thing I shall always like you for.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Only one thing? And I have so many bad qualities.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Ah, don’t be too conceited about them. You may lose them as you grow old.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: I never intend to grow old. The soul is born old but grows young. That is the comedy of life.

      MRS. ALLONBY: And the body is born young and grows old. That is life’s tragedy.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Its comedy also, sometimes. But what is the mysterious reason why you will always like me?

      MRS. ALLONBY: It is that you have never made love to me.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: I have never done anything else.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Really? I have not noticed it.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: How unfortunate! It might have been a tragedy for both of us.

      MRS. ALLONBY: We should each have survived.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: One can survive everything nowadays, except death, and live down anything except a good reputation.

      MRS. ALLONBY: Have you tried a good reputation?

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: It is one of the many annoyances to which I have never been subjected.

      MRS. ALLONBY: It may come.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Why do you threaten me?

      MRS. ALLONBY: I will tell you when you have kissed the Puritan.

      Enter Footman.

      FRANCIS: Tea is served in the Yellow Drawing-room, my lord.

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Tell her ladyship we are coming in.

      FRANCIS: Yes, my lord. (Exit.)

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: Shall we go in to tea?

      MRS. ALLONBY: Do you like such simple pleasures?

      LORD ILLINGWORTH: I adore simple pleasures. They are the last refuge

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