The Importance of Being Earnest Page #8

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Indeed, when I married

Lord Bracknell...

I had no fortune of any kind.

But I never

dreamed for a moment...

of allowing that

to stand in my way.

Well, I suppose

I must give my consent.

Thank you, Aunt Augusta.

I beg your pardon

for interrupting you...

Lady Bracknell, but I am

Miss Cardew's guardian.

She cannot marry

without my consent...

until she comes of age...

and that consent

I absolutely decline to give.

Upon what grounds, may I ask?

I suspect him

of being untruthful.

Untruthful?

My nephew Algy?

I fear there can be no

possible doubt about the matter.

During my temporary absence

in London...

on an important question

of romance...

he obtained admission

to my house...

by means of the false pretence

of being my brother.

He then proceeded

to win over...

the affections

of my only ward...

when his own intentions,

I'm utterly convinced...

were purely financial.

Deny it if you dare.

He subsequently stayed

to tea...

and devoured

every single muffin...

and what makes his behaviour

all the more heartless...

is that he was perfectly

aware from the start...

that I have no brother,

that I never had a brother...

and that I don't intend to have

a brother, not even of any kind.

-Uncle Jack, please!

-On my word, Jack.

Come here, sweet child.

How old are you, dear?

-Eighteen, Aunt Augusta.

-Eighteen!

Well, it will not be long

before you are of age...

and free from the restraints

of your guardian.

According to the terms

of her grandfather's will...

she does not come legally

of age until she is thirty-five.

That does not seem to me

to be a grave objection.

Thirty-five

is a very attractive age.

London society

is full of women...

of the very highest birth

who have...

of their own free choice,

remained thirty-five for years.

Algy, could you wait for me

till I was thirty-five?

Of course, I could.

You know I could.

Yes, I felt it instinctively.

But I couldn't wait

all that time.

Then what is to be done,

Cecily?

I don't know, Mr. Moncrieff.

My dear Mr. Worthing...

as Miss Cardew

states quite positively...

that she cannot wait

until she is thirty-five--

a remark

which I am bound to say...

seems to me to show

a somewhat impatient nature--

I would beg you

to reconsider your decision.

Dear Lady Bracknell, the matter

is entirely in your own hands.

The moment you consent

to my marriage with Gwendolen...

I will most gladly allow

your nephew...

to form an alliance

with my ward.

You must be aware that what you

propose is out of the question.

Then a passionate celibacy...

is all any of us

can look forward to.

-Oh, but Mama.

-Come, dear.

We've already missed five,

if not six, trains.

To miss any more might expose

us to comment on the platform.

Everything is quite ready

for the christenings.

The christenings, sir?

Is not that

somewhat premature?

But both of these gentlemen

have expressed a desire...

for immediate baptism.

At their age? The idea

is grotesque and irreligious.

Algy,

I forbid you to be baptized.

I will not hear

of such excesses.

I'm sorry

to interrupt, Dr. Chasuble.

Yes, yes.

Miss Prism

has asked me to tell you...

she's waiting for you

in the vestry.

Indeed. I believe she's been

waiting for some time.

Miss Prism in the vestry.

Waiting for you.

Yes.

Miss Prism?

Did I hear you mention

a Miss Prism?

Yes, madame. I'm--

I'm on my--

-Bless you.

-Yes, madame, I'm on my way...

to--to--to join her.

Is this Miss Prism

a female of repellent aspect...

remotely connected

with education?

She is the most cultivated

of ladies...

and the picture

of respectability.

It is obviously

the same person.

Dr. Chasuble,

take me to the vestry at once.

I've been expecting you,

dear doctor.

Prism!

Prism.

Prism!

Where is that baby?

Thirty-four years ago. Prism...

you left

Lord Bracknell's house...

Number 104.

Upper Grosvenor Street...

in charge of a perambulator...

that contained a baby

of the male sex.

You never returned.

A few weeks later, through

the elaborate investigations...

of the metropolitan police...

the perambulator

was discovered at midnight...

standing by itself in

a remote corner of Bayswater.

It contained the manuscript

of a three-volume novel...

of more than usually

revolting sentimentality.

But the baby was not there.

Prism, where is that baby?

Lady Bracknell...

I admit with shame

that I do not know.

The plain facts

of the case are these--

on the morning

of the day in question--

a day that is forever branded

on my memory--

I prepared, as usual...

to take the baby

out in its perambulator.

I had also with me a somewhat

old, but capacious handbag...

in which I had intended

to place the manuscript...

of a work of fiction

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.

...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.

I--

Uncle Jack

seems strangely agitated.

Is this the handbag,

Miss Prism?

Examine it carefully

before you speak.

The happiness of more than

one life depends on your answer.

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 this handbag.

I was the baby you placed in it.

-You?

-Yes.

Mother!

Oh, Mr. Worthing.

I am unmarried.

Unmarried?

I cannot deny

that is a serious blow.

But after all,

who has the right...

to cast a stone

against one who has suffered?

Cannot repentance

wipe out an act of folly?

-Mother, I forgive you!

-No, Mr. Worthing!

There is some error.

There is the lady...

who can tell you

who you really are.

Lady Bracknell,

I hate to seem inquisitive...

but would you kindly inform me

who I am?

You are the son of my poor

sister Mrs. Moncrieff...

and consequently

Algy's younger brother.

Algy's younger brother?

So...

I have a brother after all.

Yes.

I knew I had a brother!

I always said

I had a brother. Huh.

Cecily, how could you ever have

doubted that I had a brother?

Dr. Chasuble,

my unfortunate brother.

How do you do?

Miss Prism,

my unfortunate brother.

How do you do?

Gwendolen,

my unfortunate brother.

How do you do?

Lady Bracknell, my--my brother.

-Algy!

-Algy!

Oh!

Oh!

-So?

-Oh!

Under these strange

and unforeseen circumstances...

Mr. Moncrieff...

you may kiss your Aunt Augusta.

John!

Mr. Moncrieff.

After all that has occurred...

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