[ACT 2] Jack Worthing The Importance of Being Earnest Lines

Dr Chasuble: Mr Worthing! This is indeed a surprise. We did not look for you till Monday afternoon.

I have returned sooner than I expected. Dr Chasuble, I hope you are well?

Dr Chasuble: Dear Mr Worthing, I trust this garb of the woe does not betoken some terrible calamity?

My brother.

Dr Chasuble: Still leading his life of pleasure?

Dead!

Dr Chasuble: Your brother Ernest dead?

Quite dead.

Dr Chasuble: You have at least the consolation of knowing that you were always the most generous and forgiving of brothers.

Poor Ernest! He had many faults, but it is a sad blow.

Dr Chasuble: Very sad indeed…. Were you with him at the end?

No. He died abroad, in Paris. I had a telegram last night from the manager of the hotel.

Dr Chasuble: Was the cause of death mentioned?

A severe chill, it seems.

Dr Chasuble: Will the… interment take place here?

No. He seems to have expressed a desire to be buried in Paris.

Dr Chasuble: I have preached it at harvest celebrations, christenings, confirmations, on days of humiliation and festal days.

Oh! that reminds me, you mentioned christenings, I think, Dr Chasuble? I suppose you know how to christen all right? I mean, of course, you are continually christening, aren’t you?

Dr Chasuble: Your brother was, I believe, unmarried, was he not?

Oh! yes.

Miss Prism: People who live entirely for pleasure usually are.

But it is not for any child, dear Doctor. I am very fond of children. No! the fact is, I would like to be christened myself, this afternoon, if you have nothing better to do.

Dr Chasuble: But surely, Mr Worthing, you have been christened already?

I don’t remember anything about it.

Dr Chasuble: But have you any grave doubts on the subject?

I have the very greatest doubts. There are circumstances, unnecessary to mention at present, connected with my birth and early life that make me think I was a good deal neglected. I certainly wasn’t properly looked after, at any rate. Of course, I don’t know if the thing would bother you in any way, or if you think I’m a little too old now.

Dr Chasuble: You need have no apprehensions. At what hour would you wish the ceremoney performed?

Would half past five do?

Cecily: MONOLOGUE. …and I have got such a surprise for you. Who do you think is in the dining-room? Your brother!

Who?

Cecily: Your brother Ernest. He arrived about half an hour ago.

What nonsense! I haven’t got a brother.

Miss Prism: After we had all been resigned to his loss, his sudden return seems to me peculiarly distressing.

My brother in the dining-room? I don’t know what it all means. I think it is perfectly absurd.

Cecily: Uncle Jack, you are not going to refuse your own brother’s hand?

Nothing will induce me to take his hand. I think his coming down here disgraceful. He knows perfectly well why.

Cecily: MONOLOGUE (mentions Bunbury). If a young man leaves London to go and see a sick friend, there must be some good in him.

Oh! he has been talking about Bunbury, has he?

Cecily: Yes, he has told me all about poor Mr. Bunbury, and his terrible state of health.

Bunbury! Well, I won’t have him talk to you about Bunbury or about anything else.

Cecily: Uncle Jack! Do shake hands with Ernest. I will never forgive you, if you don’t.

Never forgive me?

Cecily: Never, never, never!

I suppose I must, then. You young scoundrel! you must get out of this place as soon as possible. I don’t allow any Bunburying here.

Merriman: I have put Mr. Ernest’s things in the room next to yours, sir. I suppose that is all right?

What?

Merriman: Mr. Ernest’s luggage, sir. I have unpacked it and put it in the room next to your own.

His luggage? Doctor, will you escort the ladies into luncheon?

Dr Chasuble: With pleasure.

Your Bunburying has not been a great success after all, Algy. I don’t think it is a good day for Bunburying, myself.

Algernon: MONOLOGUE. The main thing is that I have seen Cecily and she is a darling.

You are not to talk of Miss Cardew like that. And you are not going to have any luncheon. You have lunched 4 times already.

Algernon: I only had some champagne and one or two sandwiches.

Yes, my champagne and one or two of my sandwiches.

Algernon: Well, I don’t like your clothes. You look perfectly ridiculous in them.

You are certainly not staying with me for a whole week as a guest or anything else. You have got to leave.

Algernon: MONOLOGUE. I should think it very unkind if you didn’t.

Well, will you go if I change my clothes?

Algernon: Yes, if you are not too long. I never saw anybody take so long to dress, and with such little result.

Well, at any rate, that is better than being always over-dressed as you are.

Algernon: If I am occasionally a little over-dressed, I make up for it by being always immensely over-educated.

Your vanity is ridiculous, your conduct an outrage, and your presence in my garden utterly absurd. However, you have got to catch the three-fifty, and I hope you will have a pleasant journey back to town. This Bunburying, as you call it, has not been a great success for you.