The Importance of Being Earnest | Page 5

people who are not serious about
meals. It is so shallow of them.
[Enter Lane.]
Lady Bracknell and Miss Fairfax.
[Algernon goes forward to meet them. Enter Lady Bracknell and Gwendolen.]
Lady Bracknell. Good afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope you are behaving very well.
Algernon. I'm feeling very well, Aunt Augusta.
Lady Bracknell. That's not quite the same thing. In fact the two things rarely go together.
[Sees Jack and bows to him with icy coldness.]
Algernon. [To Gwendolen.] Dear me, you are smart!
Gwendolen. I am always smart! Am I not, Mr. Worthing?

Jack. You're quite perfect, Miss Fairfax.
Gwendolen. Oh! I hope I am not that. It would leave no room for developments, and I
intend to develop in many directions. [Gwendolen and Jack sit down together in the
corner.]
Lady Bracknell. I'm sorry if we are a little late, Algernon, but I was obliged to call on
dear Lady Harbury. I hadn't been there since her poor husband's death. I never saw a
woman so altered; she looks quite twenty years younger. And now I'll have a cup of tea,
and one of those nice cucumber sandwiches you promised me.
Algernon. Certainly, Aunt Augusta. [Goes over to tea-table.]
Lady Bracknell. Won't you come and sit here, Gwendolen?
Gwendolen. Thanks, mamma, I'm quite comfortable where I am.
Algernon. [Picking up empty plate in horror.] Good heavens! Lane! Why are there no
cucumber sandwiches? I ordered them specially.
Lane. [Gravely.] There were no cucumbers in the market this morning, sir. I went down
twice.
Algernon. No cucumbers!
Lane. No, sir. Not even for ready money.
Algernon. That will do, Lane, thank you.
Lane. Thank you, sir. [Goes out.]
Algernon. I am greatly distressed, Aunt Augusta, about there being no cucumbers, not
even for ready money.
Lady Bracknell. It really makes no matter, Algernon. I had some crumpets with Lady
Harbury, who seems to me to be living entirely for pleasure now.
Algernon. I hear her hair has turned quite gold from grief.
Lady Bracknell. It certainly has changed its colour. From what cause I, of course, cannot
say. [Algernon crosses and hands tea.] Thank you. I've quite a treat for you to-night,
Algernon. I am going to send you down with Mary Farquhar. She is such a nice woman,
and so attentive to her husband. It's delightful to watch them.
Algernon. I am afraid, Aunt Augusta, I shall have to give up the pleasure of dining with
you to-night after all.
Lady Bracknell. [Frowning.] I hope not, Algernon. It would put my table completely out.
Your uncle would have to dine upstairs. Fortunately he is accustomed to that.

Algernon. It is a great bore, and, I need hardly say, a terrible disappointment to me, but
the fact is I have just had a telegram to say that my poor friend Bunbury is very ill again.
[Exchanges glances with Jack.] They seem to think I should be with him.
Lady Bracknell. It is very strange. This Mr. Bunbury seems to suffer from curiously bad
health.
Algernon. Yes; poor Bunbury is a dreadful invalid.
Lady Bracknell. Well, I must say, Algernon, that I think it is high time that Mr. Bunbury
made up his mind whether he was going to live or to die. This shilly-shallying with the
question is absurd. Nor do I in any way approve of the modern sympathy with invalids. I
consider it morbid. Illness of any kind is hardly a thing to be encouraged in others. Health
is the primary duty of life. I am always telling that to your poor uncle, but he never seems
to take much notice . . . as far as any improvement in his ailment goes. I should be much
obliged if you would ask Mr. Bunbury, from me, to be kind enough not to have a relapse
on Saturday, for I rely on you to arrange my music for me. It is my last reception, and one
wants something that will encourage conversation, particularly at the end of the season
when every one has practically said whatever they had to say, which, in most cases, was
probably not much.
Algernon. I'll speak to Bunbury, Aunt Augusta, if he is still conscious, and I think I can
promise you he'll be all right by Saturday. Of course the music is a great difficulty. You
see, if one plays good music, people don't listen, and if one plays bad music people don't
talk. But I'll run over the programme I've drawn out, if you will kindly come into the next
room for a moment.
Lady Bracknell. Thank you, Algernon. It is very thoughtful of you. [Rising, and
following Algernon.] I'm sure the programme will be delightful, after a few expurgations.
French songs I cannot possibly allow. People always seem to think that they