The Importance of Being Earnest Page #11

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that I had written during

my few unoccupied hours.

In a moment of mental abstraction,

for which I never can forgive myself,

I deposited the manuscript

in the bassinet...

and placed the baby

in the handbag.

- But where did you deposit the handbag?

- Do not ask me, Mr. Worthing.

Miss Prism, this is a matter

of no small importance to me.

I insist on knowing where you deposited

the handbag that contained that infant!

I left it in the cloakroom of one of

the larger railway stations in London.

What railway station?

Victoria.

The Brighton line?

The Brighton line.

- Gwendolen, wait here for me.

- If you are not too long,

I will wait here for you all my life.

This suspense is terrible.

- Miss Prism, is this the handbag?

- Let me look.

Examine it carefully

before you speak.

The happiness of more than one life

depends on your answer.

Thank you.

It seems to be mine.

Oh, yes! Here is the injury

it received...

through the upsetting of

a Gower Street omnibus...

in younger and happier days.

Here is the stain on the lining...

caused by the explosion

of a temperance beverage,

an incident that occurred

at Leamington.

And here on the lock are my initials.

I had forgotten that in an extravagant

mood I had had them placed there.

The bag is undoubtedly mine.

I am delighted to have it

so unexpectedly restored to me.

It has been a great inconvenience

being without it all these years.

Miss Prism,

more is restored to you

than the handbag.

I am the baby

that was placed in it.

- You?

- Yes... Mother!

Mr. Worthing, I am unmarried!

Unmarried?

L-I do not deny that

that is a serious blow,

but who has the right to cast a stone

against one who has suffered?

Cannot repentance wipe out

an act of folly?

Why should there be one law for men

and another for women?

Mother, I forgive you.

Mr. Worthing, there is some error!

There is the lady who can tell you

who you really are. Oh, dear.

Lady Bracknell,

I hate to seem inquisitive,

but could you kindly inform me

who I really am?

You are the son of my poor sister,

Mrs. Moncrieff,

and, consequently,

Algernon's elder brother.

Algy's elder brother?

Then I have a brother after all.

I knew I had a brother.

I always said I had a brother.

Cecily, how could you ever have

doubted that I had a brother?

Dr. Chasuble, my unfortunate brother.

Miss Prism, my unfortunate brother.

Gwendolen, my unfortunate brother.

Algy, you young scoundrel,

you will have to behave

with more respect to me in the future.

You've never behaved to me

like a brother in all your life.

Not till today, I admit.

I tried my best, however,

though I was out of practice.

My own!

But what "own" are you?

What is your Christian name

now that you've become someone else?

Your decision on the subject

of my Christian name

is irrevocable, I suppose.

I never change,

except in my affections.

What a noble nature

you have, Gwendolen.

Then the question must be

cleared up once and for all.

Aunt Augusta, at the time when

Miss Prism left me in the handbag,

had I been christened already?

Every luxury that money could buy,

including christening,

had been lavished on you

by your fond and doting parents.

Then I was christened.

That is settled.

Now, what was my Christian name?

Let me know the worst.

Being the eldest son, you were

naturally called after your father.

Yes, but what was

my father's Christian name?

I cannot at the moment recall

what the general's Christian name was.

I've no doubt he had one.

He was eccentric, I admit,

but only in later years.

Algy, can't you recollect

what our father's Christian name was?

My dear boy, we were never

even on speaking terms.

He died before I was a year old.

His name would be in the army lists

of the period, I suppose, Aunt Augusta?

The general was essentially a man

of peace, except in his domestic life,

but I've no doubt his name

would appear in any military directory.

The army lists

of the last 40 years are here.

These delightful records

should have been my constant study.

M, generals.

"Magley," "Maxby,"

"Maxbohm"...what ghastly names!

"Markly," "Migsby," "Mobbs."

"Moncrieff." Lieutenant, 1840.

Captain, lieutenant colonel,

colonel, general, 1869.

Christian name...

Ernest John.

Gwendolen, I always told you

that my name was Ernest, didn't I?

Ernest, my own Ernest.

Cecily, at last.

Laetitia, at last.

Gwendolen, at last.

My nephew? You seem to be

displaying signs of triviality.

On the contrary, Aunt Augusta.

I have now realized

for the first time in my life...

the vital importance

of being earnest.

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