The Importance of Being Earnest | Page 6

are improper,
and either look shocked, which is vulgar, or laugh, which is worse. But German sounds a
thoroughly respectable language, and indeed, I believe is so. Gwendolen, you will
accompany me.
Gwendolen. Certainly, mamma.
[Lady Bracknell and Algernon go into the music-room, Gwendolen remains behind.]
Jack. Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax.
Gwendolen. Pray don't talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people
talk to me about the weather, I always feel quite certain that they mean something else.
And that makes me so nervous.
Jack. I do mean something else.
Gwendolen. I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong.

Jack. And I would like to be allowed to take advantage of Lady Bracknell's temporary
absence . . .
Gwendolen. I would certainly advise you to do so. Mamma has a way of coming back
suddenly into a room that I have often had to speak to her about.
Jack. [Nervously.] Miss Fairfax, ever since I met you I have admired you more than any
girl . . . I have ever met since . . . I met you.
Gwendolen. Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact. And I often wish that in public, at any
rate, you had been more demonstrative. For me you have always had an irresistible
fascination. Even before I met you I was far from indifferent to you. [Jack looks at her in
amazement.] We live, as I hope you know, Mr Worthing, in an age of ideals. The fact is
constantly mentioned in the more expensive monthly magazines, and has reached the
provincial pulpits, I am told; and my ideal has always been to love some one of the name
of Ernest. There is something in that name that inspires absolute confidence. The moment
Algernon first mentioned to me that he had a friend called Ernest, I knew I was destined
to love you.
Jack. You really love me, Gwendolen?
Gwendolen. Passionately!
Jack. Darling! You don't know how happy you've made me.
Gwendolen. My own Ernest!
Jack. But you don't really mean to say that you couldn't love me if my name wasn't
Ernest?
Gwendolen. But your name is Ernest.
Jack. Yes, I know it is. But supposing it was something else? Do you mean to say you
couldn't love me then?
Gwendolen. [Glibly.] Ah! that is clearly a metaphysical speculation, and like most
metaphysical speculations has very little reference at all to the actual facts of real life, as
we know them.
Jack. Personally, darling, to speak quite candidly, I don't much care about the name of
Ernest . . . I don't think the name suits me at all.
Gwendolen. It suits you perfectly. It is a divine name. It has a music of its own. It
produces vibrations.
Jack. Well, really, Gwendolen, I must say that I think there are lots of other much nicer
names. I think Jack, for instance, a charming name.

Gwendolen. Jack? . . . No, there is very little music in the name Jack, if any at all, indeed.
It does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations . . . I have known several Jacks, and
they all, without exception, were more than usually plain. Besides, Jack is a notorious
domesticity for John! And I pity any woman who is married to a man called John. She
would probably never be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment's
solitude. The only really safe name is Ernest
Jack. Gwendolen, I must get christened at once--I mean we must get married at once.
There is no time to be lost.
Gwendolen. Married, Mr. Worthing?
Jack. [Astounded.] Well . . . surely. You know that I love you, and you led me to believe,
Miss Fairfax, that you were not absolutely indifferent to me.
Gwendolen. I adore you. But you haven't proposed to me yet. Nothing has been said at all
about marriage. The subject has not even been touched on.
Jack. Well . . . may I propose to you now?
Gwendolen. I think it would be an admirable opportunity. And to spare you any possible
disappointment, Mr. Worthing, I think it only fair to tell you quite frankly before-hand
that I am fully determined to accept you.
Jack. Gwendolen!
Gwendolen. Yes, Mr. Worthing, what have you got to say to me?
Jack. You know what I have got to say to you.
Gwendolen. Yes, but you don't say it.
Jack. Gwendolen, will you marry me? [Goes on his knees.]
Gwendolen. Of course I will, darling. How long you have been about it! I am afraid you
have had very little experience in how to propose.
Jack. My own one, I have never loved any one in the world but you.
Gwendolen. Yes, but men often propose for