[ACT 4] Jack Worthing The Importance of Being Earnest Lines

Gwendolen: MONOLOGUE. Was it in order that you might have an opportunity of coming up to town to see me as often as possible?

Can you doubt it, Miss Fairfax?

Gwendolen and Cecily: Your Christian names are still an absolutely insuparable barrier. That is all.

Our Christian names! Is that all? But we are going to be christened this afternoon.

Gwendolen: For my sake, you’re prepared to do this terrible thing.

Certainly!

Algernon: I am.

Darling!

Merriman: Ahem! Ahem! Lady Bracknell!

Good heavens!

Lady Bracknell: MONOLOGUE. On this point, as indeed on all points, I am firm.

I am engaged to be married to Gwendolen, Lady Bracknell.

Lady Bracknell: MONOLOGUE. …who is that young lady whose hand my nephew Algernon is now holding in what seems to me a peculiarly unnecessary manner?

This lady, Lady Bracknell, is Miss Cecily Cardew, my ward.

Lady Bracknell: MONOLOGUE. Until yesterday, I had no idea that there were any families or persons, whose origin was a terminus.

Miss Cardew is the grand-daughter of the late Mr Thomas Cardew of 149 Belgrave Square, southwest, Gervase Park, Dorking, Surrey, and the Sporran, Fifeshire, north bound

Lady Bracknell: That sounds not unsatisfactory. Three addresses always inspire confidence. But what proof have I of their authenticity?

I have carefully preserved the court guides of the period. They are open to your inspection, Lady Bracknell.

Lady Bracknell: I have known strange errors in that publication.

I have also in my possession, you’ll be pleased to hear, certificates of Miss Cardew’s birth, registration, baptism, hoopling-cough, vaccination, confirmation and the measles, both the German and the English variety.

Lady Bracknell: MONOLOGUE. As a matter of form, Mr Worthing, I had better ask you if Miss Cardew has any little fortune?

Oh! about 130,000 pounds in the Funds. That is all. Goodbye, Lady Bracknell. So pleased to have seen you.

Lady Bracknell: To speak, frankly, I am not in favor of long engagements. They give people the opportunity of finding out their true characters before marriage, which I think is never advisable.

I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Lady Bracknell. But this engagement is quite out of the question. I am Miss Cardew’s guardian. She cannot marry without my consent until she comes of age. That consent I absolutely declined to give.

Lady Bracknell: MONOLOGUE. To my own knowledge, he is on the list of nearly all the mothers in London.

It pains me very much to have to speak frankly to you, Lady Bracknell, about your nephew, but the fact is that I do not approve at all of his moral character. I suspect him of being untruthful.

Lady Bracknell: Untruthful! my nephew Algernon! Impossible!

I fear there can be no possible doubt about the matter. This morning, he obtained admission into my house by means of the false pretense of being my brother. Continuing his disgraceful deception, he succeeded in the course of the afternoon in alienating the affections of my only award. He subsequently stayed to tea and devoured every single muffin. And what makes his conduct all the more heartless is that he was perfectly well aware from the first that I have no brother, and that I never had a brother, not even of any kind. I distinctly told him so myself yesterday afternoon.

Lady Bracknell: Mr Worthing, after careful consideration, I have decided to overlook entirely my nephew‘s conduct to you, painful though it has been.

That is very generous of you, Lady Bracknell. My own decision, however, is unalterable. I decline to give my consent.

Lady Bracknell: MONOLOGUE. So I don’t think that your guardian consent to this alliance is, after all, a matter of much, if any, importance.

Pray, excuse me, Lady Bracknell, for interrupting you again, but it is only fair to tell you that, according to the terms of her grandfather‘s will Miss Cardew does not come legally at age till she is 35.

Lady Bracknell: MONOLOGUE. I would beg of you to reconsider your decision.

But, my 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.

Dr Chasuble: Am I to understand then, that there are to be no baptisms at all this afternoon?

I don’t think that as things now stand it would be of any practical value to either of us, Dr Chasuble.

Dr Chasuble: I am a celibate, madam.

Miss Prism, Lady Bracknell, has been for the last 3 years Miss Cardew’s esteemed governess and companion.

Miss Prism: MONOLOGUE. I deposited the manuscript in the bassinet, and placed the baby in the handbag.

But where did you deposit the handbag?

Miss Prism: 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 the infant.

Miss Prism: I left it, Mr Worthing, in the cloak-room of one of the large railway-stations in London.

What railway station?

Lady Bracknell: I sincerely hope nothing improbable is going to happen. The improbable is always in bad, or at any rate, questionable taste.

I must retire to my bedroom for a moment.

Dr Chasuble: This news seems to have upset you, Mr Worthing. I trust your indisposition is merely temporary.

I will be back in a few moments, dear Canon. Gwendolen! Wait here for me!

Gwendolen: This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.

Is this the handbag, Miss Prism? Examine it carefully before you speak. The happiness of more than one life depends on your answer.

Miss Prism: MONOLOGUE. It has been a great inconvenience being without it all these years.

But Miss Prism, more is restored to you than the handbag. I was the baby you placed in it.

Miss Prism: You?

Yes… mother!

Miss Prism: Mr Worthing, I am unmarried!

Unmarried! I do not deny that that is a serious blow. But after all, who has the right to throw 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.

Miss Prism: MONOLOGUE. There stands 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?

Lady Bracknell: I am afraid that the news I have to give you will not altogether please you. 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 have ever 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 treat me with more respect in the future. You have never behaved to me like a brother in all your life.

Gwendolen: Darling!

Darling!

Lady Bracknell: Under these strange and unforeseen circumstances you can kiss your Aunt Augusta.

I am dazed with happiness.

Gwendolen: My own! But what own are you? What is your Christian name, now that you have become someone else?

Good heavens! … I had quite forgotten that point. Your decision on the subject of my name is irrevocable, I suppose?

Cecily: What a noble nature you have, Gwendolen.

Then the question had better be cleared up at once. Aunt Augusta, a moment. At the time when Miss Prism left me in the handbag, had I been christened already?

Lady Bracknell: 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 name was I given? Let me know the worst.

Lady Bracknell: Being the eldest son you were naturally christened after your father.

Yes, but what was my father’s Christian name?

Lady Bracknell: I cannot at the present moment recall what the General’s Christian name was. Your poor dear mother always addressed him as “General”.

Algy! can’t you recollect what our father’s Christian name was?

Algernon: My dear boy, we never were on those sort of terms. Indeed, I don’t think we can ever have been even on speaking terms. He died, I believe, before I was a year old.

His name would appear in the Army Lists of the period, I suppose, Aunt Augusta?

Lady Bracknell: The General was essentially a man of peace, except in his domestic life. But I have no doubt his name would appear in any military directory.

The Army Lists of the last 40 years are here. Generals… Mallam—what ghastly names they have—Markby, Migsby, Mobbs, Moncrieff, Moncrieff! Lieutenant 1840, Captain, Lieutenant-Colonel, Colonel, General 1860. Christian names, Ernest John. I always told you, Gwendolen, my name was Ernest, didn’t I? Well, it is Ernest after all. I mean it naturally is Ernest.

Gwendolen: MONOLOGUE. Even all man’s useless information, wonderful though it is, is nothing compared to the instinct of a good woman.

Gwendolen, it is a terrible thing for a man to find out suddenly that all his life he has been speaking nothing but the truth. Can you forgive me?

Gwendolen: I can. For I feel that you are sure to change. There is always hope even for those who are most accurate in their statements.

My own one!

Algernon: Cecily!

Gwendolen!

Lady Bracknell: I have missed the last train!—My nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of triviality.

On the contrary, Aunt Augusta, I’ve now realised for the first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Earnest.