The Importance of Being Earnest (3 page)

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. I do say it. I feel it—I know it.

(Enter Parker C.)

P
ARKER
. The men want to know if they are to put the carpets on the terrace for to-night, my lady?

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. You don’t think it will rain, Lord Darlington, do you?

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. I won’t hear of its raining on your birthday!

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Tell them to do it at once, Parker.

(Exit Parker C.)

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
.
(Still seated.)
Do you think then—of course I am only putting an imaginary instance—do you think that in the case of a young married couple, say about two years married, if the husband suddenly becomes the intimate friend of a woman of—well, more than doubtful character, is always calling upon her, lunching with her, and probably paying her bills—do you think that the wife should not console herself?

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
.
(Frowning.)
Console herself?

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. Yes, I think she should—I think she has the right.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Because the husband is vile—should the wife be vile also?

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. Vileness is a terrible word, Lady Windermere.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. It is a terrible thing, Lord Darlington.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. Do you know I am afraid that good people do
a great deal of harm in this world. Certainly the greatest harm they do is that they make badness of such extraordinary importance. It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious. I take the side of the charming, and you, Lady Windermere, can’t help belonging to them.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Now, Lord Darlington.
(Rising and crossing R., front of him.)
Don’t stir, I am merely going to finish my flowers.
(Goes to table R.C.)

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
.
(Rising and moving chair.)
And I must say I think you are very hard on modern life, Lady Windermere. Of course there is much against it, I admit. Most women, for instance, now-a-days, are rather mercenary.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Don’t talk about such people.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. Well then, setting mercenary people aside, who, of course, are dreadful, do you think seriously that women who have committed what the world calls a fault should never be forgiven?

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
.
(Standing at table.)
I think they should never be forgiven.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. And men? Do you think that there should be the same laws for men as there are for women?

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Certainly!

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. I think life too complex a thing to be settled by these hard and fast rules.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. If we had “these hard and fast rules,” we should find life much more simple.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. You allow of no exceptions?

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. None!

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. Ah, what a fascinating Puritan you are, Lady Windermere!

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. The adjective was unnecessary, Lord Darlington.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. I couldn’t help it. I can resist everything except temptation.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. You have the modern affectation of weakness.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
.
(Looking at her.)
It’s only an affectation, Lady Windermere.

(Enter Parker C.)

P
ARKER
. The Duchess of Berwick and Lady Agatha Carlisle.

(Enter the Duchess of Berwick and Lady Agatha Carlisle C
.)

(Exit Parker C.)

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
.
(Coming down C., and shaking hands.)
Dear Margaret, I am so pleased to see you. You remember Agatha, don’t you?
(Crossing L.C.)
How do you do, Lord Darlington? I won’t let you know my daughter, you are far too wicked.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. Don’t say that, Duchess. As a wicked man I am a complete failure. Why, there are lots of people who say I have never really done anything wrong in the whole course of my life. of course they only say it behind my back.

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Isn’t he dreadful? Agatha, this is Lord Darlington. Mind you don’t believe a word he says.
(Lord Darlington crosses R.C.)
No, no tea, thank you, dear.
(Crosses and sits on sofa.)
We have just had tea at Lady Markby’s. Such bad tea, too. It was quite undrinkable. I wasn’t at all surprised. Her own son-in-law supplies it. Agatha is looking forward so much to your ball tonight, dear Margaret.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
.
(Seated L.C.)
Oh, you mustn’t think it is going to be a ball, Duchess. It is only a dance in honour of my birthday. A small and early.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
.
(Standing L.C.)
Very small, very early, and very select, Duchess.

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
.
(On sofa L.)
Of course it’s going to be select. But we know
that
, dear Margaret, about
your
house. It is really one of the few houses in London where I can take Agatha, and where I feel perfectly secure about dear Berwick. I don’t know what society is coming to. The most dreadful people seem to go everywhere. They certainly come to my parties—the men get quite furious if one doesn’t ask them. Really, some one should make a stand against it.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
.
I
will, Duchess. I will have no one in my house about whom there is any scandal.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
.
(R.C.)
Oh, don’t say that, Lady Windermere. I should never be admitted!
(Sitting.)

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Oh, men don’t matter. With women it is different. We’re good. Some of us are, at least. But we are positively getting elbowed into the corner. Our husbands would really forget our existence if we didn’t nag at them from time to time, just to remind them that we have a perfect legal right to do so.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. It’s a curious thing, Duchess, about the game of marriage—a game, by the way, that is going out of fashion—the wives hold all the honours, and invariably lose the odd trick.

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. The odd trick? Is that the husband, Lord Darlington?

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. It would be rather a good name for the modern husband.

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Dear Lord Darlington, how thoroughly depraved you are!

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Lord Darlington is trivial.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. Ah, don’t say that, Lady Windermere.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Why do you
talk
so trivially about life, then?

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
. Because I think that life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it.
(Moves up C.)

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. What does he mean? Do, as a concession to my poor wits, Lord Darlington, just explain to me what you really mean.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
.
(Coming down back of table.)
I think I had better not, Duchess. Now-a-days to be intelligible is to be found out. Good-bye!
(Shakes hands with Duchess.)
And now—
(goes up stage)
Lady Windermere, good-bye. I may come to-night, mayn’t I? Do let me come.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
.
(Standing up stage with Lord Darlington.)
Yes, certainly. But you are not to say foolish, insincere things to people.

L
ORD
D
ARLINGTON
.
(Smiling.)
Ah! you are beginning to reform me. It is a dangerous thing to reform any one, Lady Windermere.

(Bows, and exit C.)

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
.
(Who has risen, goes C.)
What a charming,
wicked creature! I like him so much. I’m quite delighted he’s gone! How sweet you’re looking! Where
do
you get your gowns? And now I must tell you how sorry I am for you, dear Margaret.
(Crosses to sofa and sits with Lady Windermere.)
Agatha darling!

L
ADY
A
GATHA
. Yes, mamma.
(Rises.)

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Will you go and look over the photograph album that I see there?

L
ADY
A
GATHA
. Yes, mamma.
(Goes to table up L.)

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Dear girl! She is so fond of photographs of Switzerland. Such a pure taste, I think. But I really am so sorry for you, Margaret.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
.
(Smiling.)
Why, Duchess?

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Oh, on account of that horrid woman. She dresses so well, too, which makes it much worse, sets such a dreadful example. Augustus—you know my disreputable brother—such a trial to us all—well, Augustus is completely infatuated about her. It is quite scandalous, for she is absolutely inadmissible into society. Many a woman has a past, but I am told that she has at least a dozen, and that they all fit.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Whom are you talking about, Duchess?

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. About Mrs. Erlynne.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Mrs. Erlynne? I never heard of her, Duchess. And what
has
she to do with me?

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. My poor child! Agatha, darling!

L
ADY
A
GATHA
. Yes, mamma.

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Will you go out on the terrace and look at the sunset?

L
ADY
A
GATHA
. Yes, mamma.

(Exit through window L.)

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Sweet girl! So devoted to sunsets! Shows such refinement of feeling, does it not? After all, there is nothing like Nature, is there?

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. But what is it, Duchess? Why do you talk to me about this person?

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Don’t you really know? I assure you we’re all so distressed about it. only last night at dear Lady Jansen’s every
one was saying how extraordinary it was that, of all men in London, Windermere should behave in such a way.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. My husband—what has
he
got to do with any woman of that kind?

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. Ah, what indeed, dear? That is the point. He goes to see her continually, and stops for hours at a time, and while he is there she is not at home to any one. Not that many ladies call on her, dear, but she has a great many disreputable men friends—my own brother particularly, as I told you—and that is what makes it so dreadful about Windermere. We looked upon
him
as being such a model husband, but I am afraid there is no doubt about it. My dear nieces—you know the Saville girls, don’t you?—such nice domestic creatures—plain, dreadfully plain, but so good—well, they’re always at the window doing fancy work, and making ugly things for the poor, which I think so useful of them in these dreadful socialistic days, and this terrible woman has taken a house in Curzon Street, right opposite them—such a respectable street, too. I don’t know what we’re coming to! And they tell me that Windermere goes there four and five times a week—they
see
him. They can’t help it—and although they never talk scandal, they—well, of course—they remark on it to every one. And the worst of it all is that I have been told that this woman has got a great deal of money out of somebody, for it seems that she came to London six months ago without anything at all to speak of, and now she has this charming house in Mayfair, drives her ponies in the Park every afternoon and all—well, all—since she has known poor dear Windermere.

L
ADY
W
INDERMERE
. Oh, I can’t believe it!

D
UCHESS OF
B
ERWICK
. But it’s quite true, my dear. The whole of London knows it. That is why I felt it was better to come and talk to you, and advise you to take Windermere away at once to Homburg or to Aix, where he’ll have something to amuse him, and where you can watch him all day long. I assure you, my dear, that on several occasions after I was first married, I had to pretend to be very ill, and was obliged to drink the most unpleasant
mineral waters, merely to get Berwick out of town. He was so extremely susceptible. Though I am bound to say he never gave away any large sums of money to anybody. He is far too high-principled for that!