Selected Plays / Избранные пьесы
Шрифт:
CECILY. Yes, you’ve wonderfully good taste, Ernest. It’s the excuse I’ve always given for your leading such a bad life. And this is the box in which I keep all your dear letters. (Kneels at table, opens box, and produces letters tied up with blue ribbon.)
ALGERNON. My letters! But, my own sweet Cecily, I have never written you any letters.
CECILY. You need hardly remind me of that, Ernest. I remember only too well that I was forced to write your letters for you. I wrote always three times a week, and sometimes oftener.
ALGERNON. Oh, do let me read them, Cecily?
CECILY. Oh, I couldn’t possibly. They would make you far too conceited. (Replaces box.) The three you wrote me after I had broken of the engagement are so beautiful, and so badly spelled, that even now I can hardly read them without crying a little.
ALGERNON. But was our engagement ever broken off?
CECILY. Of course it was. On the 22nd of last March. You can see the entry if you like. (Shows diary.) “To-day I broke off my engagement with Ernest. I feel it is better to do so. The weather still continues charming.”
ALGERNON. But why on earth did you break it off? What had I done? I had done nothing at all. Cecily, I am very much hurt indeed to hear you broke it off. Particularly when the weather was so charming.
CECILY. It would hardly have been a really serious engagement if it hadn’t been broken off at least once. But I forgave you before the week was out.
ALGERNON. (Crossing to her, and kneeling.) What a perfect angel you are, Cecily.
CECILY. You dear romantic boy. (He kisses her, she puts her fingers through his hair.) I hope your hair curls naturally, does it?
ALGERNON. Yes, darling, with a little help from others.
CECILY. I am so glad.
ALGERNON. You’ll never break off our engagement again, Cecily?
CECILY. I don’t think I could break it off now that I have actually met you. Besides, of course, there is the question of your name.
ALGERNON. Yes, of course. (Nervously.)
CECILY. You must not laugh at me, darling, but it had always been a girlish dream of mine to love someone whose name was Ernest. (ALGERNON rises, CECILY also.) There is something in that name that seems to inspire absolute confidence. I pity any poor married woman whose husband is not called Ernest.
ALGERNON. But, my dear child, do you mean to say you could not love me if I had some other name?
CECILY. But what name?
ALGERNON. Oh, any name you like – Algernon – for instance…
CECILY. But I don’t like the name of Algernon.
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