Selected Plays / Избранные пьесы - Оскар Уайльд (2003)

ALGERNON. Really, Gwendolen, I don’t think I can allow this at all.

GWENDOLEN. Algy, you always adopt a strictly immoral attitude towards life. You are not quite old enough to do that. (ALGERNON retires to the fireplace.)

JACK. My own darling!

GWENDOLEN. Ernest, we may never be married. From the expression on Mamma’s face I fear we never shall. Few parents nowadays pay any regard to what their children say to them. The old-fashioned respect for the young is fast dying out. Whatever influence I ever had over Mamma, I lost at the age of three. But although she may prevent us from becoming man and wife, and I may marry someone else, and marry often, nothing that she can possibly do can alter my eternal devotion to you.

JACK. Dear Gwendolen!

GWENDOLEN. The story of your romantic origin, as related to me by Mamma, with unpleasing comments, has naturally stirred the deeper fibres of my nature. Your Christian name has an irresistible fascination. The simplicity of your character makes you exquisitely incomprehensible to me. Your town address at the Albany I have. What is your address in the country?

JACK. The Manor House, Woolton, Hertfordshire.

(ALGERNON, who has been carefully listening, smiles to himself, and writes the address on his shirt-cuff. Then picks up the Railway Guide.)

GWENDOLEN. There is a good postal service, I suppose? It may be necessary to do something desperate. That of course will require serious consideration. I will communicate with you daily.

JACK. My own one!

GWENDOLEN. How long do you remain in town?

JACK. Till Monday.

GWENDOLEN. Good! Algy, you may turn round now.

ALGERNON. Thanks, I’ve turned round already.

GWENDOLEN. You may also ring the bell.

JACK. You will let me see you to your carriage, my own darling?

GWENDOLEN. Certainly.

JACK. (To LANE, who now enters.) I will see Miss Fairfax out.

LANE. Yes, sir. (JACK and GWENDOLEN go off.)

(LANE presents several letters on a salver to ALGERNON. It is to be surmised that they are bills, as ALGERNON after looking at the envelopes, tears them up.)

ALGERNON. A glass of sherry, Lane.

LANE. Yes, sir.

ALGERNON. Tomorrow, Lane, I’m going Bunburying.

LANE. Yes, sir.

ALGERNON. I shall probably not be back till Monday. You can put up my dress clothes, my smoking jacket, and all the Bunbury suits…

LANE. Yes, sir. (Handing sherry.)

ALGERNON. I hope tomorrow will be a fine day, Lane.

LANE. It never is, sir.

ALGERNON. Lane, you’re a perfect pessimist.

LANE. I do my best to give satisfaction, sir.

(Enter JACK. LANE goes off.)

JACK. There’s a sensible, intellectual girl! The only girl I ever cared for in my life. (ALGERNON is laughing immoderately.) What on earth are you so amused at?

ALGERNON. Oh, I’m a little anxious about poor Bunbury, that is all.

JACK. If you don’t take care, your friend Bunbury will get you into a serious scrape some day.

ALGERNON. I love scrapes. They are the only things that are never serious.

JACK. Oh, that’s nonsense, Algy. You never talk anything but nonsense.

ALGERNON. Nobody ever does.

(JACK looks indignantly at him, and leaves the room. ALGERNON lights a cigarette, reads his shirt-cuff, and smiles.)

Act Drop

Act II

Scene. Garden at the Manor House. A flight of grey stone steps leads up to the house. The garden, an old-fashioned one, full of roses. Time of year, July. Basket chairs, and a table covered with books, are set under a large yew-tree.

(MISS PRISM discovered seated at the table. CECILY is at the back watering flowers.)