Lord Goring:
Got my second buttonhole for me, Phipps? Phipps:
Yes, my lord. [Takes his hat, cane, and cape, and presents new buttonhole
on salver.] Lord Goring:
Rather distinguished thing, Phipps. I am the only person of the smallest
importance in London at present who wears a buttonhole. Phipps:
Yes, my lord. I have observed that, Lord Goring:
[Taking out old buttonhole.] You see, Phipps, Fashion is what one wears
oneself. What is unfashionable is what other people wear.
Phipps:
Yes, my lord. Lord Goring:
Just as vulgarity is simply the conduct of other people. Phipps:
Yes, my lord. Lord Goring:
[Putting in a new buttonhole.] And falsehoods the truths of other people.
Phipps:
Yes, my lord. Lord Goring:
Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself. Phipps:
Yes, my lord. Lord Goring:
To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance, Phipps. Phipps:
Yes, my lord. Lord Goring:
[Looking at himself in the glass.] Dont think I quite like this buttonhole,
Phipps. Makes me look a little too old. Makes me almost in the prime of
life, eh, Phipps?
Phipps:
I dont observe any alteration in your lordships appearance. Lord Goring:
You dont, Phipps? Phipps:
No, my lord. Lord Goring:
I am not quite sure. For the future a more trivial buttonhole, Phipps,
on Thursday evenings. Phipps:
I will speak to the florist, my lord. She has had a loss in her family
lately, which perhaps accounts for the lack of triviality your lordship
complains of in the buttonhole. Lord Goring: Extraordinary thing about the lower
classes in England - they are always losing their relations. Phipps:
Yes, my lord! They are extremely fortunate in that respect. Lord Goring:
[Turns round and looks at him. PHIPPS remains impassive.] Hum! Any letters,
Phipps?
Phipps:
Three, my lord. [Hands letters on a salver.]
Lord Goring:
[Takes letters.] Want my cab round in twenty minutes.
Phipps:
Yes, my lord. [Goes towards door.]
Lord Goring:
[Holds up letter in pink envelope.] Ahem! Phipps, when did this letter
arrive?
Phipps:
It was brought by hand just after your lordship went to the club. Lord Goring: That will do. [Exit PHIPPS.]
Lady Chilterns handwriting on Lady Chilterns pink notepaper. That is
rather curious. I thought Robert was to write. Wonder what Lady Chiltern
has got to say to me? [Sits at bureau and opens letter, and reads it.]
I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude. [Puts down
the letter with a puzzled look. Then takes it up, and reads it again slowly.]
I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you. So she has found out everything!
Poor woman! Poor woman! [Pulls out watch and looks at it.] But
what an hour to call! Ten oclock! I shall have to give up going to the
Berkshires. However, it is always nice to be expected, and not to arrive.
I am not expected at the Bachelors, so I shall certainly go there. Well,
I will make her stand by her husband. That is the only thing for her to
do. That is the only thing for any woman to do. It is the growth of the
moral sense in women that makes marriage such a hopeless, one-sided institution.
Ten oclock. She should be here soon. I must tell Phipps I am not in to
any one else. [Goes towards bell.]
[Enter PHIPPS.]
Phipps:
Lord Caversham.
Lord Goring: Oh, why will parents always appear
at the wrong time? Some extraordinary mistake in nature, I suppose. [Enter
LORD CAVERSHAM.] Delighted to see you, my dear father. [Goes to meet
him.]
Lord Caversham:
Take my cloak off.
Lord Goring:
Is it worth while, father?
Lord Caversham:
Of course it is worth while, sir. Which is the most comfortable chair?
Lord Goring:
This one, father. It is the chair I use myself, when I have visitors.
Lord Caversham:
Thank ye. No draught, I hope, in this room?
Lord Goring:
No, father.
Lord Caversham:
[Sitting down.] Glad to hear it. Cant stand draughts. No draughts at
home.
Lord Goring:
Good many breezes, father.
Lord Caversham:
Eh? Eh? Dont understand what you mean. Want to have a serious conversation
with you, sir.
Lord Goring:
My dear father! At this hour?
Lord Caversham:
Well, sir, it is only ten oclock. What is your objection to the hour?
I think the hour is an admirable hour!
Lord Goring:
Well, the fact is, father, this is not my day for talking seriously. I
am very sorry, but it is not my day.
Lord Caversham:
What do you mean, sir?
Lord Goring:
During the Season, father, I only talk seriously on the first Tuesday
in every month, from four to seven.
Lord Caversham:
Well, make it Tuesday, sir, make it Tuesday.
Lord Goring:
But it is after seven, father, and my doctor says I must not have any
serious conversation after seven. It makes me talk in my sleep.
Lord Caversham:
Talk in your sleep, sir? What does that matter? You are not married.
Lord Goring:
No, father, I am not married.
Lord Caversham:
Hum! That is what I have come to talk to you about, sir. You have got
to get married, and at once. Why, when I was your age, sir, I had been
an inconsolable widower for three months, and was already paying my addresses
to your admirable mother. Damme, sir, it is your duty to get married.
You cant be always living for pleasure. Every man of position is married
nowadays. Bachelors are not fashionable any more. They are a damaged lot.
Too much is known about them. You must get a wife, sir. Look where your
friend Robert Chiltern has got to by probity, hard work, and a sensible
marriage with a good woman. Why dont you imitate him, sir? Why dont
you take him for your model?
Lord Goring:
I think I shall, father.
Lord Caversham:
I wish you would, sir. Then I should be happy. At present I make your
mothers life miserable on your account. You are heartless, sir, quite
heartless
Lord Goring:
I hope not, father.
Lord Caversham:
And it is high time for you to get married. You are thirty-four years
of age, sir.
Lord Goring: Yes, father, but I only admit to
thirty-two - thirty-one and a half when I have a really good buttonhole.
This buttonhole is not ... trivial enough.
Lord Caversham:
I tell you you are thirty-four, sir. And there is a draught in your room,
besides, which makes your conduct worse. Why did you tell me there was
no draught, sir? I feel a draught, sir, I feel it distinctly.
Lord Goring:
So do I, father. It is a dreadful draught. I will come and see you tomorrow,
father. We can talk over anything you like. Let me help you on with your
cloak, father.
Lord Caversham:
No, sir; I have called this evening for a definite purpose, and I am going
to see it through at all costs to my health or yours. Put down my cloak,
sir.
Lord Goring:
Certainly, father. But let us go into another room. [Rings bell.] There
is a dreadful draught here. [Enter PHIPPS.] Phipps, is there a good fire
in the smoking-room?
Phipps:
Yes, my lord.
Lord Goring:
Come in there, father. Your sneezes are quite heartrending.
Lord Caversham:
Well, sir, I suppose I have a right to sneeze when I choose?
Lord Goring:
[Apologetically.] Quite so, father. I was merely expressing sympathy.
Lord Caversham:
Oh, damn sympathy. There is a great deal too much of that sort of thing
going on nowadays.
Lord Goring:
I quite agree with you, father. If there was less sympathy in the world
there would be less trouble in the world.
Lord Caversham:
[Going towards the smoking-room.] That is a paradox, sir. I hate paradoxes.
Lord Goring:
So do I, father. Everybody one meets is a paradox nowadays. It is a great
bore. It makes society so obvious.
Lord Caversham:
[Turning round, and looking at his son beneath his bushy eyebrows.] Do
you always really understand what you say, sir?
Lord Goring:
[After some hesitation.] Yes, father, if I listen attentively.
Lord Caversham:
[Indignantly.] If you listen attentively! ... Conceited young puppy!
[Goes off grumbling into the smoking-room. PHIPPS enters.]
Lord Goring:
Phipps, there is a lady coming to see me this evening on particular business.
Show her into the drawing-room when she arrives. You understand?
Phipps:
Yes, my lord.
Lord Goring:
It is a matter of the gravest importance, Phipps.
Phipps:
I understand, my lord.
Lord Goring:
No one else is to be admitted, under any circumstances.
Phipps:
I understand, my lord. [Bell rings.]
Lord Goring:
Ah! that is probably the lady. I shall see her myself.
[Just as he is going towards the door LORD CAVERSHAM enters from the
smoking-room.]
Lord Caversham:
Well, sir? am I to wait attendance on you?
Lord Goring: [Considerably perplexed.] In a moment,
father. Do excuse me. [LORD CAVERSHAM goes back.] Well, remember my instructions,
Phipps - into that room.
Phipps:
Yes, my lord.
[LORD GORING goes into the smoking-room. HAROLD, the footman shows MRS.
CHEVELEY in. Lamia-like, she is in green and silver. She has a cloak of
black satin, lined with dead rose-leaf silk.]
HAROLD:
What name, madam?
Mrs Cheveley: [To PHIPPS, who advances
towards her.] Is Lord Goring not here? I was told he was at home?
Phipps: His lordship is engaged at present with
Lord Caversham, madam. [Turns a cold, glassy eye on HAROLD, who
at once retires.]
Mrs Cheveley: [To herself.] How very filial!
Phipps:
His lordship told me to ask you, madam, to be kind enough to wait in the
drawing-room for him. His lordship will come to you there.
Mrs Cheveley:
[With a look of surprise.] Lord Goring expects me?
Phipps:
Yes, madam.
Mrs Cheveley:
Are you quite sure?
Phipps:
His lordship told me that if a lady called I was to ask her to wait in
the drawing-room. [Goes to the door of the drawing-room and opens it.]
His lordships directions on the subject were very precise.
Mrs Cheveley: [To herself] How thoughtful
of him! To expect the unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect.
[Goes towards the drawing-room and looks in.] Ugh! How dreary a bachelors
drawing-room always looks. I shall have to alter all this. [PHIPPS brings
the lamp from the writing-table.] No, I dont care for that lamp. It is
far too glaring. Light some candles.
Phipps: [Replaces lamp.] Certainly, madam.
Mrs Cheveley:
I hope the candles have very becoming shades.
Phipps: We have had no complaints about them,
madam, as yet. [Passes into the drawing-room and begins to light the
candles.]
Mrs Cheveley: [To herself.] I wonder what
woman he is waiting for tonight. It will be delightful to catch him. Men
always look so silly when they are caught. And they are always being caught.
[Looks about room and approaches the writing-table.] What a very
interesting room! What a very interesting picture! Wonder what his correspondence
is like. [Takes up letters.] Oh, what a very uninteresting correspondence!
Bills and cards, debts and dowagers! Who on earth writes to him on pink
paper? How silly to write on pink paper! It looks like the beginning of
a middle-class romance. Romance should never begin with sentiment. It
should begin with science and end with a settlement. [Puts letter down,
then takes it up again.] I know that handwriting. That is Gertrude
Chilterns. I remember it perfectly. The ten commandments in every stroke
of the pen, and the moral law all over the page. Wonder what Gertrude
is writing to him about? Something horrid about me, I suppose. How I detest
that woman! [Reads it.] I trust you. I want you. I am coming to you.
Gertrude. I trust you. I want you. I am coming to you. [A look of
triumph comes over her face. She is just about to steal the letter, when PHIPPS comes in.]
Phipps:
The candles in the drawing-room are lit, madam, as you directed.
Mrs Cheveley: Thank you. [Rises hastily and
slips the letter under a large silver-cased blotting-book that is lying
on the table.]
Phipps:
I trust the shades will be to your liking, madam. They are the most becoming
we have. They are the same as his lordship uses himself when he is dressing
for dinner.
Mrs Cheveley:
[With a smile.] Then I am sure they will be perfectly right.
Phipps:
[Gravely.] Thank you, madam.
[MRS. CHEVELEY goes into the drawing-room. PHIPPS closes the door and
retires. The door is then slowly opened, and MRS. CHEVELEY comes out and
creeps stealthily towards the writing-table. Suddenly voices are heard
from the smoking-room. MRS. CHEVELEY grows pale, and stops. The voices
grow louder, and she goes back into the drawing-room, biting her lip.]
[Enter LORD GORING and LORD CAVERSHAM.]
Lord Goring:
[Expostulating.] My dear father, if I am to get married, surely you will
allow me to choose the time, place, and person? Particularly the person.
Lord Caversham:
[Testily.] That is a matter for me, sir. You would probably make a very
poor choice. It is I who should be consulted, not you. There is property
at stake. It is not a matter for affection. Affection comes later on in
married life.
Lord Goring:
Yes. In married life affection comes when people thoroughly dislike each
other, father, doesnt it? [Puts on LORD CAVERSHAMS cloak for him.]
Lord Caversham:
Certainly, sir. I mean certainly not, air. You are talking very foolishly
tonight. What I say is that marriage is a matter for common sense.
Lord Goring:
But women who have common sense are so curiously plain, father, arent
they? Of course I only speak from hearsay.
Lord Caversham:
No woman, plain or pretty, has any common sense at all, sir. Common sense
is the privilege of our sex.
Lord Goring:
Quite so. And we men are so self-sacrificing that we never use it, do
we, father?
Lord Caversham:
I use it, sir. I use nothing else.
Lord Goring:
So my mother tells me.
Lord Caversham:
It is the secret of your mothers happiness. You are very heartless, sir,
very heartless.
Lord Goring:
I hope not, father.
[Goes out for a moment. Then returns, looking rather put out, with SIR
ROBERT CHILTERN.]
Sir Robert Chiltern:
My dear Arthur, what a piece of good luck meeting you on the doorstep!
Your servant had just told me you were not at home. How extraordinary!
Lord Goring:
The fact is, I am horribly busy tonight, Robert, and I gave orders I
was not at home to any one. Even my father had a comparatively cold reception.
He complained of a draught the whole time.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Ah! you must be at home to me, Arthur. You are my best friend. Perhaps
by tomorrow you will be my only friend. My wife has discovered everything.
Lord Goring:
Ah! I guessed as much!
Sir Robert Chiltern:
[Looking at him.] Really! How?
Lord Goring:
[After some hesitation.] Oh, merely by something in the expression of
your face as you came in. Who told her?
Sir Robert Chiltern: Mrs. Cheveley herself. And
the woman I love knows that I began my career with an act of low dishonesty,
that I built up my life upon sands of shame - that I sold, like a common
huckster, the secret that had been intrusted to me as a man of honour.
I thank heaven poor Lord Radley died without knowing that I betrayed him.
I would to God I had died before I had been so horribly tempted, or had
fallen so low. [Burying his face in his hands.]
Lord Goring:
[After a pause.] You have heard nothing from Vienna yet, in answer to
your wire?
Sir Robert Chiltern:
[Looking up.] Yes; I got a telegram from the first secretary at eight
oclock tonight.
Lord Goring:
Well?
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Nothing is absolutely known against her. On the contrary, she occupies
a rather high position in society. It is a sort of open secret that Baron
Arnheim left her the greater portion of his immense fortune. Beyond that
I can learn nothing.
Lord Goring:
She doesnt turn out to be a spy, then?
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Oh! spies are of no use nowadays. Their profession is over. The newspapers
do their work instead.
Lord Goring:
And thunderingly well they do it.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Arthur, I am parched with thirst. May I ring for something? Some hock
and seltzer?
Lord Goring:
Certainly. Let me. [Rings the bell.]
Sir Robert Chiltern: Thanks! I dont know what
to do, Arthur, I dont know what to do, and you are my only friend. But
what a friend you are - the one friend I can trust. I can trust you absolutely,
cant I?
[Enter PHIPPS.]
Lord Goring:
My dear Robert, of course. Oh! [To PHIPPS.] Bring some hock and seltzer.
Phipps:
Yes, my lord.
Lord Goring:
And Phipps!
Phipps:
Yes, my lord.
Lord Goring:
Will you excuse me for a moment, Robert? I want to give some directions
to my servant.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Certainly.
Lord Goring:
When that lady calls, tell her that I am not expected home this evening.
Tell her that I have been suddenly called out of town. You understand?
Phipps:
The lady is in that room, my lord. You told me to show her into that room,
my lord.
Lord Goring:
You did perfectly right. [Exit PHIPPS.] What a mess I am in. No; I think
I shall get through it. Ill give her a lecture through the door. Awkward
thing to manage, though.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Arthur, tell me what I should do. My life seems to have crumbled about
me. I am a ship without a rudder in a night without a star.
Lord Goring:
Robert, you love your wife, dont you?
Sir Robert Chiltern:
I love her more than anything in the world. I used to think ambition the
great thing. It is not. Love is the great thing in the world. There is
nothing but love, and I love her. But I am defamed in her eyes. I am ignoble
in her eyes. There is a wide gulf between us now. She has found me out,
Arthur, she has found me out.
Lord Goring: Has she never in her life done some
folly - some indiscretion - that she should not forgive your sin?
Sir Robert Chiltern: My wife! Never! She does
not know what weakness or temptation is. I am of clay like other men.
She stands apart as good women do - pitiless in her perfection - cold
and stern and without mercy. But I love her, Arthur. We are childless,
and I have no one else to love, no one else to love me. Perhaps if God
had sent us children she might have been kinder to me. But God has given
us a lonely house. And she has cut my heart in two. Dont let us talk
of it. I was brutal to her this evening. But I suppose when sinners talk
to saints they are brutal always. I said to her things that were hideously
true, on my side, from my stand-point, from the standpoint of men. But
dont let us talk of that
Lord Goring:
Your wife will forgive you. Perhaps at this moment she is forgiving you.
She loves you, Robert. Why should she not forgive?
Sir Robert Chiltern:
God grant it! God grant it! [Buries his face in his hands.] But there
is something more I have to tell you, Arthur.
[Enter PHIPPS with drinks.]
Phipps:
[Hands hock and seltzer to SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] Hock and seltzer, sir.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Thank you.
Lord Goring:
Is your carriage here, Robert?
Sir Robert Chiltern:
No; I walked from the club.
Lord Goring:
Sir Robert will take my cab, Phipps.
Phipps:
Yes, my lord. [Exit.]
Lord Goring:
Robert, you dont mind my sending you away?
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Arthur, you must let me stay for five minutes. I have made up my mind
what I am going to do tonight in the House. The debate on the Argentine
Canal is to begin at eleven. [A chair falls in the drawing-room.] What
is that?
Lord Goring:
Nothing.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
I heard a chair fall in the next room. Some one has been listening.
Lord Goring:
No, no; there is no one there.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
There is some one. There are lights in the room, and the door is ajar.
Some one has been listening to every secret of my life. Arthur, what does
this mean?
Lord Goring:
Robert, you are excited, unnerved. I tell you there is no one in that
room. Sit down, Robert.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Do you give me your word that there is no one there?
Lord Goring:
Yes.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Your word of honour? [Sits down.]
Lord Goring:
Yes.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
[Rises.] Arthur, let me see for myself.
Lord Goring:
No, no.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
If there is no one there why should I not look in that room? Arthur, you
must let me go into that room and satisfy myself. Let me know that no
eavesdropper has heard my lifes secret. Arthur, you dont realise what
I am going through.
Lord Goring: Robert, this must stop. I have told
you that there is no one in that room - that is enough.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
[Rushes to the door of the room.] It is not enough. I insist on going
into this room. You have told me there is no one there, so what reason
can you have for refusing me?
Lord Goring:
For Gods sake, dont! There is some one there. Some one whom you must
not see.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Ah, I thought so!
Lord Goring:
I forbid you to enter that room.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Stand back. My life is at stake. And I dont care who is there. I will
know who it is to whom I have told my secret and my shame. [Enters room.]
Lord Goring:
Great heavens! his own wife!
[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN comes back, with a look of scorn and anger on his
face.]
Sir Robert Chiltern:
What explanation have you to give me for the presence of that woman here?
Lord Goring:
Robert, I swear to you on my honour that that lady is stainless and guiltless
of all offence towards you.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
She is a vile, an infamous thing!
Lord Goring:
Dont say that, Robert! It was for your sake she came here. It was to
try and save you she came here. She loves you and no one else.
Sir Robert Chiltern: You are mad. What have I
to do with her intrigues with you? Let her remain your mistress! You are
well suited to each other. She, corrupt and shameful - you, false as a
friend, treacherous as an enemy even -
Lord Goring:
It is not true, Robert. Before heaven, it is not true. In her presence
and in yours I will explain all.
Sir Robert Chiltern:
Let me pass, sir. You have lied enough upon your word of honour.
[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN goes out. LORD GORING rushes to the door of the
drawing-room, when MRS. CHEVELEY comes out, looking radiant and much amused.]
Mrs Cheveley:
[With a mock curtsey] Good evening, Lord Goring!
Lord Goring:
Mrs. Cheveley! Great heavens! ... May I ask what you were doing in my
drawing-room?
Mrs Cheveley:
Merely listening. I have a perfect passion for listening through keyholes.
One always hears such wonderful things through them.
Lord Goring:
Doesnt that sound rather like tempting Providence?
Mrs Cheveley:
Oh! surely Providence can resist temptation by this time. [Makes a sign
to him to take her cloak off, which he does.]
Lord Goring:
I am glad you have called. I am going to give you some good advice.
Mrs Cheveley:
Oh! pray dont. One should never give a woman anything that she cant
wear in the evening.
Lord Goring:
I see you are quite as wilful as you used to be.
Mrs Cheveley:
Far more! I have greatly improved. I have had more experience.
Lord Goring:
Too much experience is a dangerous thing. Pray have a cigarette. Half
the pretty women in London smoke cigarettes. Personally I prefer the other
half.
Mrs Cheveley:
Thanks. I never smoke. My dressmaker wouldnt like it, and a womans first
duty in life is to her dressmaker, isnt it? What the second duty is,
no one has as yet discovered.
Lord Goring:
You have come here to sell me Robert Chilterns letter, havent you?
Mrs Cheveley:
To offer it to you on conditions. How did you guess that?
Lord Goring:
Because you havent mentioned the subject. Have you got it with you?
Mrs Cheveley:
[Sitting down.] Oh, no! A well-made dress has no pockets.
Lord Goring:
What is your price for it?
Mrs Cheveley:
How absurdly English you are! The English think that a cheque-book can
solve every problem in life. Why, my dear Arthur, I have very much more
money than you have, and quite as much as Robert Chiltern has got hold
of. Money is not what I want.
Lord Goring:
What do you want then, Mrs. Cheveley?
Mrs Cheveley:
Why dont you call me Laura?
Lord Goring:
I dont like the name.
Mrs Cheveley:
You used to adore it.
Lord Goring: Yes: thats why. [MRS. CHEVELEY motions to him to sit down beside her. He smiles, and does so.]
Mrs Cheveley:
Arthur, you loved me once.
Lord Goring:
Yes.
Mrs Cheveley:
And you asked me to be your wife.
Lord Goring:
That was the natural result of my loving you.
Mrs Cheveley:
And you threw me over because you saw, or said you saw, poor old Lord
Mortlake trying to have a violent flirtation with me in the conservatory
at Tenby.
Lord Goring:
I am under the impression that my lawyer settled that matter with you
on certain terms ... dictated by yourself.
Mrs Cheveley:
At that time I was poor; you were rich.
Lord Goring:
Quite so. That is why you pretended to love me.
Mrs Cheveley: [Shrugging her shoulders.]
Poor old Lord Mortlake, who had only two topics of conversation, his gout
and his wife! I never could quite make out which of the two he was talking
about. He used the most horrible language about them both. Well, you were
silly, Arthur. Why, Lord Mortlake was never anything more to me than an
amusement. One of those utterly tedious amusements one only finds at an
English country house on an English country Sunday. I dont think any
one at all morally responsible for what he or she does at an English country
house.
Lord Goring:
Yes. I know lots of people think that.
Mrs Cheveley:
I loved you, Arthur.
Lord Goring:
My dear Mrs. Cheveley, you have always been far too clever to know anything
about love.
Mrs Cheveley:
I did love you. And you loved me. You know you loved me; and love is a
very wonderful thing. I suppose that when a man has once loved a woman,
he will do anything for her, except continue to love her? [Puts her hand
on his.]
Lord Goring: [Taking his hand away quietly.]
Yes: except that.
Mrs Cheveley: [After a pause.] I am tired
of living abroad. I want to come back to London. I want to have a charming
house here. I want to have a salon. If one could only teach the English
how to talk, and the Irish how to listen, society here would be quite
civilised. Besides, I have arrived at the romantic stage. When I saw you
last night at the Chilterns, I knew you were the only person I had ever
cared for, if I ever have cared for anybody, Arthur. And so, on the morning
of the day you marry me, I will give you Robert Chilterns letter. That
is my offer. I will give it to you now, if you promise to marry me.
Lord Goring:
Now?
Mrs Cheveley:
[Smiling.] tomorrow.
Lord Goring:
Are you really serious?
Mrs Cheveley:
Yes, quite serious.
Lord Goring:
I should make you a very bad husband.
Mrs Cheveley:
I dont mind bad husbands. I have had two. They amused me immensely.
Lord Goring:
You mean that you amused yourself immensely, dont you?
Mrs Cheveley:
What do you know about my married life?
Lord Goring:
Nothing: but I can read it like a book.
Mrs Cheveley:
What book?
Lord Goring:
[Rising.] The Book of Numbers.
Mrs Cheveley:
Do you think it is quite charming of you to be so rude to a woman in your
own house?
Lord Goring:
In the case of very fascinating women, sex is a challenge, not a defence.
Mrs Cheveley:
I suppose that is meant for a compliment. My dear Arthur, women are never
disarmed by compliments. Men always are. That is the difference between
the two sexes.
Lord Goring:
Women are never disarmed by anything, as far as I know them.
Mrs Cheveley:
[After a pause.] Then you are going to allow your greatest friend, Robert
Chiltern, to be ruined, rather than marry some one who really has considerable
attractions left. I thought you would have risen to some great height
of self-sacrifice, Arthur. I think you should. And the rest of your life
you could spend in contemplating your own perfections.
Lord Goring:
Oh! I do that as it is. And self-sacrifice is a thing that should be put
down by law. It is so demoralising to the people for whom one sacrifices
oneself. They always go to the bad.
Mrs Cheveley:
As if anything could demoralise Robert Chiltern! You seem to forget that
I know his real character.
Lord Goring:
What you know about him is not his real character. It was an act of folly
done in his youth, dishonourable, I admit, shameful, I admit, unworthy
of him, I admit, and therefore ... not his true character.
Mrs Cheveley:
How you men stand up for each other!
Lord Goring:
How you women war against each other!
Mrs Cheveley:
[Bitterly.] I only war against one woman, against Gertrude Chiltern. I
hate her. I hate her now more than ever.
Lord Goring:
Because you have brought a real tragedy into her life, I suppose.
Mrs Cheveley:
[With a sneer.] Oh, there is only one real tragedy in a womans life.
The fact that her past is always her lover, and her future invariably
her husband.
Lord Goring:
Lady Chiltern knows nothing of the kind of life to which you are alluding.
Mrs Cheveley: A woman whose size in gloves is
seven and three-quarters never knows much about anything. You know Gertrude
has always worn seven and three-quarters? That is one of the reasons why
there was never any moral sympathy between us... . Well, Arthur, I suppose
this romantic interview may be regarded as at an end. You admit it was
romantic, dont you? For the privilege of being your wife I was ready
to surrender a great prize, the climax of my diplomatic career. You decline.
Very well. If Sir Robert doesnt uphold my Argentine scheme, I expose
him. Voile tout.
Lord Goring:
You mustnt do that. It would be vile, horrible, infamous.
Mrs Cheveley:
[Shrugging her shoulders.] Oh! dont use big words. They mean so little.
It is a commercial transaction. That is all. There is no good mixing up
sentimentality in it. I offered to sell Robert Chiltern a certain thing.
If he wont pay me my price, he will have to pay the world a greater price.
There is no more to be said. I must go. Good-bye. Wont you shake hands?
Lord Goring:
With you? No. Your transaction with Robert Chiltern may pass as a loathsome
commercial transaction of a loathsome commercial age; but you seem to
have forgotten that you came here tonight to talk of love, you whose
lips desecrated the word love, you to whom the thing is a book closely
sealed, went this afternoon to the house of one of the most noble and
gentle women in the world to degrade her husband in her eyes, to try and
kill her love for him, to put poison in her heart, and bitterness in her
life, to break her idol, and, it may be, spoil her soul. That I cannot
forgive you. That was horrible. For that there can be no forgiveness.
Mrs Cheveley: Arthur, you are unjust to me. Believe
me, you are quite unjust to me. I didnt go to taunt Gertrude at all.
I had no idea of doing anything of the kind when I entered. I called with
Lady Markby simply to ask whether an ornament, a jewel, that I lost somewhere
last night, had been found at the Chilterns. If you dont believe me,
you can ask Lady Markby. She will tell you it is true. The scene that
occurred happened after Lady Markby had left, and was really forced on
me by Gertrudes rudeness and sneers. I called, oh! - a little out of
malice if you like - but really to ask if a diamond brooch of mine had
been found. That was the origin of the whole thing.
Lord Goring:
A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby?
Mrs Cheveley:
Yes. How do you know?
Lord Goring:
Because it is found. In point of fact, I found it myself, and stupidly
forgot to tell the butler anything about it as I was leaving. [Goes over
to the writing-table and pulls out the drawers.] It is in this drawer.
No, that one. This is the brooch, isnt it? [Holds up the brooch.]
Mrs Cheveley:
Yes. I am so glad to get it back. It was . . a present.
Lord Goring:
Wont you wear it?
Mrs Cheveley:
Certainly, if you pin it in. [LORD GORING suddenly clasps it on her arm.]
Why do you put it on as a bracelet? I never knew it could he worn as a
bracelet.
Lord Goring:
Really?
Mrs Cheveley:
[Holding out her handsome arm.] No; but it looks very well on me as a
bracelet, doesnt it?
Lord Goring:
Yes; much better than when I saw it last.
Mrs Cheveley:
When did you see it last?
Lord Goring:
[Calmly.] Oh, ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, from whom you stole it.
Mrs Cheveley:
[Starting.] What do you mean?
Lord Goring:
I mean that you stole that ornament from my cousin, Mary Berkshire, to
whom I gave it when she was married. Suspicion fell on a wretched servant,
who was sent away in disgrace. I recognised it last night. I determined
to say nothing about it till I had found the thief. I have found the thief
now, and I have heard her own confession.
Mrs Cheveley:
[Tossing her head.] It is not true.
Lord Goring:
You know it is true. Why, thief is written across your face at this moment.
Mrs Cheveley:
I will deny the whole affair from beginning to end. I will say that I
have never seen this wretched thing, that it was never in my possession.
[MRS. CHEVELEY tries to get the bracelet off her arm, but fails. LORD
GORING looks on amused. Her thin fingers tear at the jewel to no purpose.
A curse breaks from her.]
Lord Goring:
The drawback of stealing a thing, Mrs. Cheveley, is that one never knows
how wonderful the thing that one steals is. You cant get that bracelet
off, unless you know where the spring is. And I see you dont know where
the spring is. It is rather difficult to find.
Mrs Cheveley:
You brute! You coward! [She tries again to unclasp the bracelet, but fails.]
Lord Goring:
Oh! dont use big words. They mean so little.
Mrs Cheveley:
[Again tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage, with inarticulate
sounds. Then stops, and looks at LORD GORING.] What are you going to do?
Lord Goring:
I am going to ring for my servant. He is an admirable servant. Always
comes in the moment one rings for him. When he comes I will tell him to
fetch the police.
Mrs Cheveley:
[Trembling.] The police? What for?
Lord Goring:
tomorrow the Berkshires will prosecute you. That is what the police are
for.
Mrs Cheveley:
[Is now in an agony of physical terror. Her face is distorted. Her mouth
awry. A mask has fallen from her. She it, for the moment, dreadful to
look at.] Dont do that. I will do anything you want. Anything in the
world you want.
Lord Goring:
Give me Robert Chilterns letter.
Mrs Cheveley:
Stop! Stop! Let me have time to think.
Lord Goring:
Give me Robert Chilterns letter.
Mrs Cheveley:
I have not got it with me. I will give it to you tomorrow.
Lord Goring:
You know you are lying. Give it to me at once. [MRS. CHEVELEY pulls the
letter out, and hands it to him. She is horribly pale.] This is it?
Mrs Cheveley:
[In a hoarse voice.] Yes.
Lord Goring:
[Takes the letter, examines it, sighs, and burns it with the lamp.] For
so well-dressed a woman, Mrs. Cheveley, you have moments of admirable
common sense. I congratulate you.
Mrs Cheveley:
[Catches sight of LADY CHILTERNS letter, the cover of which is just showing
from under the blotting-book.] Please get me a glass of water.
Lord Goring:
Certainly. [Goes to the corner of the room and pours out a glass of water.
While his back is turned MRS. CHEVELEY steals LADY CHILTERNS letter.
When LORD GORING returns the glass she refuses it with a gesture.]
Mrs Cheveley:
Thank you. Will you help me on with my cloak?
Lord Goring:
With pleasure. [Puts her cloak on.]
Mrs Cheveley:
Thanks. I am never going to try to harm Robert Chiltern again.
Lord Goring:
Fortunately you have not the chance, Mrs. Cheveley.
Mrs Cheveley:
Well, if even I had the chance, I wouldnt. On the contrary, I am going
to render him a great service.
Lord Goring:
I am charmed to hear it. It is a reformation.
Mrs Cheveley: Yes. I cant bear so upright a gentleman,
so honourable an English gentleman, being so shamefully deceived, and
so -
Lord Goring:
Well?
Mrs Cheveley:
I find that somehow Gertrude Chilterns dying speech and confession has
strayed into my pocket.
Lord Goring:
What do you mean?
Mrs Cheveley:
[With a bitter note of triumph in her voice.] I mean that I am going to
send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife wrote to you tonight.
Lord Goring:
Love-letter?
Mrs Cheveley:
[Laughing.] I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.
[LORD GORING rushes to the bureau and takes up the envelope, finds is
empty, and turns round.]
Lord Goring:
You wretched woman, must you always be thieving? Give me back that letter.
Ill take it from you by force. You shall not leave my room till I have
got it.
[He rushes towards her, but MRS. CHEVELEY at once puts her hand on the
electric bell that is on the table. The bell sounds with shrill reverberations,
and PHIPPS enters.]
Mrs Cheveley:
[After a pause.] Lord Goring merely rang that you should show me out.
Good-night, Lord Goring!
[Goes out followed by PHIPPS. Her face it illumined with evil triumph.
There is joy in her eyes. Youth seems to have come back to her. Her last
glance is like a swift arrow. LORD GORING bites his lip, and lights his
a cigarette.]
[END of ACT III]
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