The Importance of Being Earnest Page #4

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I need hardly say

I would do anything in the world...

to ensure Gwendolen's happiness.

I would strongly advise you,

Mr. Worthing,

to try and acquire some relations

as soon as possible,

and to make a definite effort

to produce...

at any rate one parent

of either sex...

before the season is quite over.

Well, I really don't see how I can

possibly do that, Lady Bracknell.

I can produce the handbag at any moment.

It's in my dressing room at home.

I really think that ought to satisfy you,

Lady Bracknell.

Me, sir?

What has it to do with me?

You can hardly imagine

that I and Lord Bracknell...

would dream of allowing

our only daughter,

a girl brought up

with the utmost care,

to marry into a cloakroom...

and form an alliance

with a parcel!

Good morning, Mr. Worthing.

Good morning, Lady Bracknell.

Algy, for heaven's sake,

stop playing that ghastly tune!

- Didn't it go off all right, old boy?

- Oh.

- Do you mean Gwendolen refused you?

- Oh, Gwendolen is as right as a trivet.

As far as she's concerned,

we're engaged.

Her mother is an absolute gorgon!

I don't really know what a gorgon is,

but I'm sure Lady Bracknell is one.

In any case, she's a monster without

being a myth, which is rather unfair.

Algy, you don't suppose

that Gwendolen...

will become like her mother

in about 150 years, do you?

All women become like their mothers.

That is their tragedy.

- No man does. That's his.

- Is that clever?

It's perfectly phrased

and quite as true...

as any observation

in civilized life should be.

By the way, did you tell

Gwendolen the truth...

about your being Ernest in town

and Jack in the country?

My dear fellow, the truth

is not quite the sort of thing...

one tells to a nice, sweet,

refined girl.

Besides, before the end of the week,

I shall have got rid of Ernest.

My poor brother Ernest

is going to be carried off...

quite suddenly in Paris

by a severe chill.

I thought you said that your ward

was a little too much interested...

in your poor brother Ernest.

Won't she feel his loss a good deal?

Oh, Cecily isn't a silly romantic girl,

I'm happy to say.

She's got a capital appetite,

goes for long walks...

and pays no attention at all

to her lessons.

I should rather like to see Cecily.

I shall take very good care

that you never do.

She is excessively pretty

and only just 18.

Have you told Gwendolen

you have an excessively pretty ward

who is only just 18?

Oh, one doesn't blurt

these things out to people.

Cecily and Gwendolen are

certain to be extremely good friends.

I'll bet you that half an hour after

they've met, they'll be calling

each other "sister."

Hmm. Women only do that...

when they've called each other

a lot of other things first.

- Miss Fairfax.

Algy, kindly turn your back.

I have something very particular

to say to Mr. Worthing.

Really, Gwendolen, I don't think

I can allow this at all.

- Ernest, we may never be married.

- Huh?

From the expression on Mama's face,

I fear we never shall.

But although she may prevent us

from becoming man and wife,

nothing she can possibly do

can alter my eternal devotion to you.

Your... Your Christian name has

an irresistible fascination.

The simplicity of your character...

makes you exquisitely

incomprehensible to me.

Your town address I have.

What is your address in the country?

The Manor House,

Woolton, Hertfordshire.

There is a good postal service,

I suppose.

It may be necessary

to do something desperate.

The Manor House, Woolton,

Hertfordshire.

My own one.

- Cecily.

- Yes, Miss Prism?

Oh, dear!

Cecily!

Come here at once, child.

We should have been at our labors

quite 20 minutes ago, Cecily.

Unfortunately, I was detained

by a slight mishap to my, uh, my...

Oh, well, never mind about that.

Your German grammar

is on the table.

- Oh.

- But I don't like German.

It isn't at all a becoming language.

I know perfectly well that I look

quite plain after my German lesson.

Oh, child, you know how anxious

your guardian is...

that you should improve yourself

in every way.

He laid particular stress on your German

as he was leaving for town yesterday.

Indeed, he always lays stress on your

German when he's leaving for town.

We will repeat yesterday's lesson.

Genders.

Dear Uncle Jack.

He's so very serious.

Sometimes he is so serious

that I think he cannot be quite well.

Your guardian enjoys

the best of health,

and his gravity of demeanor...

His gravity of demeanor

is especially to be commended...

in one so comparatively

young as he is.

I know no one who has a higher sense

of duty and responsibility.

I suppose that is why he often looks a

little bored when we three are together.

Cecily, I'm surprised at you!

Mr. Worthing has

many troubles in his life.

Idle merriment and triviality would be

out of place in his conversation.

You must remember his constant anxiety

about that unfortunate young man,

his brother Ernest.

Oh, I... I wish Uncle Jack

would allow...

that unfortunate young man,

his brother Ernest,

- to come down here sometimes.

- Oh, really!

Diminutives are always neuter.

That is, they belong to neither sex,

even when appearances

are to the contrary.

As for example,

das Frulein, the young lady,

das Mdchen, the young girl.

Put away your diary, Cecily.

I really don't see why

you should keep a diary at all.

I keep a diary...

in order to enter

the wonderful secrets of my life.

If I didn't write them down, I should

probably forget all about them.

Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary

that we all carry about with us.

Yes, but it usually chronicles

the things that have never happened...

and couldn't possibly have happened.

I believe that memory is responsible...

for nearly all the three-volume novels

that the library sends us.

Oh, do not speak slightingly

of the three-volume novel.

I wrote one myself in earlier days.

Did you really, Miss Prism?

Oh, how wonderfully clever you are!

I hope it did not end happily.

I don't like novels that end happily.

The good ended happily

and the bad, unhappily.

That is what fiction means.

I suppose so.

And was it ever published?

Alas, no. The manuscript

unfortunately was abandoned.

- Oh!

- Oh, I use the word...

in the sense of lost or mislaid.

Now to your work, child.

These speculations are profitless.

But I see dear Dr. Chasuble

coming up through the garden.

Oh, really?

Ah! And... And how are we

this morning?

Miss Prism, you are, I trust, well?

Dr. Chasuble,

this is indeed a pleasure.

Miss Prism has just been complaining

of a slight headache.

- Oh!

- I think it would do her so much good...

to go for a short stroll

with you in the park, Dr. Chasuble.

Cecily, I have not mentioned

anything about a headache.

No, I know that, dear Miss Prism,

but I felt instinctively

that you had a headache.

Indeed, I was thinking about that,

and not about my German lesson,

when the rector arrived.

I hope, Cecily,

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