The Importance of Being Earnest Page #5

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to see so perfect

a reconciliation.

I think

it's been a great success.

Dinner is served.

Cecily.

Might I have a buttonhole first?

I never have an appetite

unless I have a buttonhole.

Mr. Worthing.

-Marigold?

-No.

I'd sooner have

a pink rose.

Why?

Because you are like

a pink rose, Cousin Cecily.

I don't think

it could be right...

for you to talk to me

like that.

Miss Prism never says

such things to me.

Then Miss Prism

is a short-sighted old lady.

You are the prettiest girl

I ever saw.

You see, Uncle Jack,

there is some good in everyone.

Ernest has just been telling me

about his poor invalid friend...

whom he goes to visit so often.

Oh, he has been talking about

poor Mr. Bunbury, has he?

And surely there

must be much good...

in one who is kind

to an invalid...

and leaves the pleasures

of London...

to sit by a bed of pain.

Right. It's first class.

-Good morning, sir.

-Good morning.

Dear Ernest...

how desperately

I have missed you.

It seems an age

since I last saw you...

and our separation is now

proving an intolerable strain.

The feelings

you have aroused within me...

are at once delightful

and exquisitely...

painful.

My dearest darling Ernest...

it is your very name

that inspires me now...

to take my future

in my hands--

burnt. as it were.

into my very being.

And so it is. I have resolved

to flee these prison walls...

and make my way

directly to your side...

to my one and only...

Ernest.

Ernest.

Algy.

Algy.

Ernest.

Ah. Good morning,

my dear fellow.

We have to talk.

You have to leave.

If I leave, how can we talk?

We cannot both be called Ernest

I don't believe we are,

Brother Jack.

I believe you are praiseworthy.

He, she, it praises.

You're snoring?

I hope, Cecily,

I shall not offend you...

if I state

quite openly and frankly...

You seem to me

to be in every way...

the visible personification

of absolute perfection.

I think your frankness

does you great credit, Ernest.

If you will allow me, I will

copy your remarks into my diary.

Do you keep a diary?

I'd give anything to see it.

Oh, no. You'd see it as simply

a very young girl's record...

of her own thoughts

and impressions.

But, pray, Ernest, I delight

in taking down from dictation.

You can go on.

Don't cough, Ernest.

When one is dictating...

one should speak fluently

and not cough.

Cecily, ever since

I first looked upon...

your wondrous

and incomparable beauty...

I have dared to love you--

wildly...

wildly...

-passionately...

-Ahem.

devotedly, hopelessly.

I beg your pardon, sir.

There are two gentlemen

wishing to see you.

-Mr. Ernest Worthing?

-Yes.

-Of B.4, The Albany?

-Yes, that is my address.

I am very sorry. sir...

but I have a writ

of attachment against you...

and the suit of the Savoy

Hotel Company Limited...

for 762 pounds, 14 shillings.

What perfect nonsense.

I never dine at the Savoy

at my own expense.

In the interests

of our clients...

we have no option

but to take out an order...

for committal of your person.

-Committal? Of my person?

-For six months.

Oh, for six months?

Ha ha!

No doubt

you'll prefer to pay the bill.

Pay it? How on earth

am I going to do that?

No gentleman

ever has any money.

In my experience,

it is usually relations who pay.

Oh, all right.

Uh, Brother Jack?

and a tuppence--

since last October.

I'm bound to say...

I never saw such reckless

extravagance in all my life.

My dear fellow,

how ridiculous you are.

You have your debts,

and I have mine.

You know quite well

this bill is really yours.

-Mine?

-Yes, and you know it.

-Mr. Worthing...

if this is another jest,

it is most out of place.

-It is not.

-It is gross effrontery.

Just what I expected from him.

And it is ingratitude.

I didn't expect that.

Next thing you know.

he'll be denying...

he's Ernest Worthing

in the first place.

I'm sorry to disturb this

so pleasant family meeting...

but time presses.

We have to be at Holloway

not later than four o'clock.

Otherwise, it is difficult

to obtain admission.

The rules are very strict.

Holloway? But--Get off me!

It is at Holloway that

detentions of this character...

are made away.

I will not be imprisoned for

having dined in the West End!

Jack!

I agree to settle

my brother's accounts...

on the condition that he makes

his way without delay...

to the bedside of

the poor bed-ridden Bunbury...

whose health,

I have recently been informed...

is rapidly declining.

Well, Ernest?

...it's only life.

Mr. Worthing.

I would ask you

not to interrupt...

Miss Cardew's studies.

Miss Prism,

I almost forgot to mention...

that Dr. Chasuble

is expecting you in the vestry.

In the vestry? Dr. Chasuble?

Expecting you, yes.

That sounds serious.

I do not think it would be right

to keep him waiting, Cecily.

It would be very, very wrong.

The vestry is, I am told,

excessively damp.

This parting, Miss Cardew,

is very painful.

But I suppose

you cannot desert...

poor Mr. Bunbury

in his hour of need.

I don't care

about Bunbury anymore.

I don't seem to care

about anything anymore.

I only care for you.

I love you, Cecily.

Will you marry me, Cecily?

Will you?

Of course.

Why, we have been engaged

for the last three months.

For the last three months?

Yes. It will be exactly

three months on Thursday.

Darling...

Aah!

So, when was the engagement

actually settled?

On the fourteenth

of February last.

After a long struggle

with myself...

I accepted you

under this dear old tree here.

And this is the box in which

I keep all your dear letters.

My letters?

But my own sweet Cecily, I have

never written you any letters.

You need hardly

remind me of that, Ernest.

I remember only too well...

that I was forced

to write your letters for you.

I wrote always three times

a week and sometimes oftener.

-Do let me look at them.

-Oh, no, I couldn't possibly.

They would make you

far too conceited.

The three you wrote after I had

broken off the engagement...

were so beautiful

and so badly spelled.

Even now I can hardly read them

without crying a little.

Was our engagement

ever broken off?

-Yes, of course it was.

-What?

On the twenty-second

of last March.

You can see the entry

if you like.

"Today I broke off

my engagement with Ernest.

"The weather

still continues charming."

Why on earth

did you break it off?

What had I done?

I had done nothing at all.

I'm very much hurt indeed

to hear you broke it off.

Particularly when

the weather was so charming.

Well, it would hardly have been

a really serious engagement...

if I hadn't broken it off

at least once, Ernest.

But I forgave you

before the week was out.

Oh, you're a perfect angel.

-You dear romantic boy.

-Mmm.

You know, I never really

thought of myself...

as the marrying kind until now.

You mustn't break it off

again, Cecily.

Well, I don't think

I could break it off...

now that I've actually met you.

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