Selected Plays / Избранные пьесы
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CHASUBLE. Perfectly, perfectly! In fact I have two similar ceremonies to perform at that time. A case of twins that occurred recently in one of the outlying cottages on your own estate. Poor Jenkins the carter, a most hard-working man.
JACK. Oh! I don’t see much fun in being christened along with other babies. It would be childish. Would half-past five do?
CHASUBLE. Admirably! Admirably! (Takes out watch.) And now, dear Mr. Worthing, I will not intrude any longer into a house of sorrow. I would merely beg you not to be too much bowed down by grief. What seem to us bitter trials are often blessings in disguise.
MISS PRISM. This seems to me a blessing of an extremely obvious kind.
(Enter CECILY from the house.)
CECILY. Uncle Jack! Oh, I am pleased to see you back. But what horrid clothes you have got on! Do go and change them.
MISS PRISM. Cecily!
CHASUBLE. My child! my child! (CECILY goes towards JACK; he kisses her brow in a melancholy manner.)
CECILY. What is the matter, Uncle Jack? Do look happy! You look as if you had toothache, and I have got such a surprise for you. Who do you think is in the dining-room? Your brother!
JACK. Who?
CECILY. Your brother Ernest. He arrived about half an hour ago.
JACK. What nonsense! I haven’t got a brother.
CECILY. Oh, don’t say that. However badly he may have behaved to you in the past he is still your brother. You couldn’t be so heartless as to disown him. I’ll tell him to come out. And you will shake hands with him, won’t you, Uncle Jack? (Runs back into the house.)
CHASUBLE. These are very joyful tidings.
MISS PRISM. After we had all been resigned to his loss, his sudden return seems to me peculiarly distressing.
JACK. My brother is in the dining-room? I don’t know what it all means. I think it is perfectly absurd.
(Enter ALGERNON and CECILY hand in hand. They come slowly up to JACK.)
JACK. Good heavens! (Motions ALGERNON away.)
ALGERNON. Brother John, I have come down from town to tell you that I am very sorry for all the trouble I have given you, and that I intend to lead a better life in the future. (JACK glares at him and does not take his hand.)
CECILY. Uncle Jack, you are not going to refuse your own brother’s hand?
JACK. Nothing will induce me to take his hand. I think his coming down here disgraceful. He knows perfectly well why.
CECILY. Uncle Jack, do be nice. There is some good in everyone. Ernest has just been telling me about his poor invalid friend Mr. Bunbury whom he goes to visit so often. And surely there must be much good in one who is kind to an invalid, and leaves the pleasures of London to sit by a bed of pain.
JACK. 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.
JACK. Bunbury! Well, I won’t have him talk to you about Bunbury or about anything else. It is enough to drive one perfectly frantic.
ALGERNON. Of course I admit that the faults were all on my side. But I must say that I think that Brother John’s coldness to me is peculiarly painful. I expected a more enthusiastic welcome, especially considering it is the first time I have come here.
CECILY. Uncle Jack, if you don’t shake hands with Ernest I will never forgive you.
JACK. Never forgive me?
CECILY. Never, never, never!
JACK. Well, this is the last time I shall ever do it. (Shakes with ALGERNON and glares.)
CHASUBLE. It’s pleasant, is it not, to see so perfect a reconciliation? I think we might leave the two brothers together.
MISS PRISM. Cecily, you will come with us.
CECILY. Certainly, Miss Prism. My little task of reconciliation is over.
CHASUBLE. You have done a beautiful action today, dear child.
MISS PRISM. We must not be premature in our judgments.
CECILY. I feel very happy. (They all go off except JACK and ALGERNON.)
JACK. You young scoundrel, Algy, you must get out of this place as soon as possible. I don’t allow any Bunburying here.
(Enter MERRIMAN.)
MERRIMAN. I have put Mr. Ernest’s things in the room next to yours, sir. I suppose that is all right?
JACK. What?
MERRIMAN. Mr. Ernest’s luggage, sir. I have unpacked it and put it in the room next to your own.
JACK. His luggage?
MERRIMAN. Yes, sir. Three portmanteaus, a dressing-case, two hat boxes, and a large luncheon-basket.
ALGERNON. I am afraid I can’t stay more than a week this time.
JACK. Merriman, order the dog-cart at once. Mr. Ernest has been suddenly called back to town.
MERRIMAN. Yes, sir. (Goes back into the house.)
ALGERNON. What a fearful liar you are, Jack. I have not been called back to town at all.
JACK. Yes, you have.
ALGERNON. I haven’t heard anyone call me.
JACK. Your duty as a gentleman calls you back.
ALGERNON. My duty as a gentleman has never interfered with my pleasures in the smallest degree.
JACK. I can quite understand that.
ALGERNON. Well, Cecily is a darling.
JACK. You are not to talk of Miss Cardew like that. I don’t like it.
ALGERNON. Well, I don’t like your clothes. You look perfectly ridiculous in them. Why on earth don’t you go up and change? It is perfectly childish to be in deep mourning for a man who is actually staying for a whole week with you in your house as a guest. I call it grotesque.