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  • Hey! Hey!

  • There he is!

  • Where's he going?

  • -Bastard!

  • Stop!

  • You won't get away, sir!

  • Time to pay your debt.

  • Hey!

  • Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?

  • I didn't think it polite to listen, sir.

  • I'm sorry for that, for your sake.

  • I don't play accurately-- anyone can play accurately--

  • but I play with wonderful expression.

  • Yes, sir.

  • Bills, bills, bills-- all I ever get is bills.

  • And then there's the matter...

  • of my unpaid wages, sir.

  • Yet again the wasteful habits of my brother Ernest...

  • tear me from my duties here.

  • Yes, sir.

  • It's a terrible nuisance, but there's nothing to be done.

  • I shall return Monday afternoon.

  • Yes, sir.

  • Pay particular attention, if you will, Miss Prism...

  • to her German grammar.

  • Yes, Mr. Worthing.

  • I don't suppose you've found my cigarette case...

  • have you, Merriman?

  • We're still looking, sir.

  • Walk on.

  • Hey!

  • Excuse me.

  • Ernest!

  • -Algy! -How are you, my dear Ernest?

  • -What brings you up to town? -Oh, pleasure, pleasure.

  • What else should bring one anywhere?

  • Where have you been since last Thursday?

  • In the country.

  • You're always in the country. What on earth do you do there?

  • Well, when one is in town, one amuses oneself.

  • When one is in the country, one amuses other people.

  • It's excessively boring.

  • -Who are these people you amuse? -Oh, neighbours, neighbours.

  • Nice neighbours in your part of Shropshire?

  • Perfectly horrid. Never speak to one of them.

  • How immensely you must amuse them.

  • By the way, Shropshire is your country, is it not?

  • -What? -Shropshire.

  • -Shropshire? -Mm.

  • Oh, yes, of course.

  • Say. dear boy...

  • What plans have you got for tea tomorrow?

  • You know perfectly well...

  • that Aunt Augusta is coming to tea tomorrow.

  • -Aunt Augusta? -Yes. Aunt Augusta...

  • And Gwendolen.

  • How perfectly delightful.

  • Perhaps I might pay my respects.

  • Yes, that is all very well, but I'm afraid Aunt Augusta...

  • won't approve of your being there.

  • Why do you say that?

  • My dear fellow, the way that you flirt with Gwendolen...

  • is perfectly disgraceful.

  • It's almost as bad as the way Gwendolen flirts with you.

  • -I am in love with Gwendolen. -Ahh.

  • And I have come up to town expressly to propose to her.

  • I thought you came up for pleasure.

  • I call that business.

  • Oh, how utterly unromantic you are.

  • I really don't see what there is romantic about proposing.

  • Why, one may be accepted. One usually is, I believe.

  • And then--Ha ha!-- the excitement is over.

  • No. The very essence of romance is uncertainty.

  • Twenty-five a player.

  • Anyway, I certainly can't see...

  • you and Gwendolen being married.

  • Why on earth do you say that?

  • Well, in the first place, I don't give my consent.

  • Your consent?

  • My dear fellow, Gwendolen is my cousin...

  • and before I allow you to marry her...

  • you shall have to clear up this whole question of Cecily.

  • -Cecily? -Mm.

  • What on earth do you mean?

  • I don't know anyone by the name of Cecily.

  • Do you mean you have had my cigarette case all this time?

  • I wish to goodness you had let me know.

  • I've been writing frantic letters to Scotland Yard.

  • I was very nearly offering a very large reward.

  • I wish you would offer one.

  • I happen to be more than usually hard up.

  • It makes no matter...

  • for I see now the thing isn't yours after all.

  • Of course it's mine.

  • You have seen me with it a hundred times.

  • Not according to the inscription.

  • And you have no right whatsoever...

  • to read what is written inside.

  • It is a very ungentlemanly thing...

  • to read a private cigarette case.

  • Yes, but this isn't your cigarette case.

  • This cigarette case is a present from someone...

  • of the name of Cecily, and you said...

  • you didn't know anyone of that name.

  • Well, if you want to know, Cecily happens to be my aunt.

  • Your aunt?

  • Yes. charming old lady she is, too.

  • Lives at Tunbridge Wells. Just give it back to me, Algy.

  • Yes, but why does your aunt call you her uncle?

  • "From little Cecily, with her fondest love...

  • "to her dear Uncle Jack." Mmm.

  • There is no objection, I admit, to an aunt being a small aunt...

  • but why an aunt, no matter what her size may be...

  • should call her own nephew her uncle...

  • I can't quite make out.

  • Besides, your name isn't Jack at all--it's Ernest.

  • It isn't Ernest, it's Jack.

  • You've always told me it was Ernest.

  • I've introduced you to everyone as Ernest.

  • It is perfectly absurd your saying your name isn't Ernest.

  • It's on your cards. Here is one of them.

  • "Mr. Ernest Worthing, B.4, The Albany."

  • Well, it is Ernest in town and Jack in the country...

  • and the cigarette case was given to me in the country.

  • So I've always pretended to have a younger brother.

  • Ah, of the name of Ernest. And little Cecily?

  • My ward, Miss Cecily Cardew.

  • Where is that place in the country, by the way?

  • That is nothing to you, dear boy.

  • You are certainly not going to be invited.

  • I may tell you candidly the place is not in Shropshire.

  • Oh, I suspected that, my dear fellow...

  • just as I suspected you to be a Bunburyist.

  • Indeed, you are one of the most advanced...

  • Bunburyists I know.

  • See you at five.

  • Moncrieff!

  • A quick word, sir!

  • "Bunburyist"?

  • Cecily, your German grammar is on the table.

  • Pray open it at page fifteen.

  • We will repeat yesterday's lesson.

  • But I don't like German.

  • It isn't at all a becoming language.

  • I know perfectly well...

  • I look quite plain after my German lesson.

  • Child, you know how anxious your guardian is...

  • that you should improve yourself in every way.

  • Dear Uncle Jack is so very serious.

  • Sometimes I think he is so serious he cannot be quite well.

  • Cecily, I'm surprised at you.

  • Mr. Worthing has many troubles in his life.

  • You must remember his constant anxiety...

  • about that unfortunate young man, his brother.

  • I wish Uncle Jack would allow that unfortunate young man...

  • his brother, to come down here sometimes.

  • We might have a good influence over him, Miss Prism.

  • I'm not sure that I would desire to reclaim him.

  • I'm not in favour of this modern mania...

  • for turning bad people into good people...

  • at a moment's notice.

  • Cecily?

  • Do your work, child.

  • He, she, it praises.

  • "Bunburyist"?

  • What on earth do you mean by a "Bunburyist"?

  • You have invented a very useful younger brother...

  • called Ernest in order that you may be able...

  • to come up to town as often as you like.

  • I have invented...

  • an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury...

  • in order that I may be able to go down...

  • to the country as often as I choose.

  • If it wasn't for Bunbury's extraordinary bad health...

  • for instance, I wouldn't be able to dine with you...

  • at the Savoy tonight, for I've had an appointment...

  • with Aunt Augusta for more than a week.

  • I haven't asked you to dine with me anywhere tonight.

  • I know. You're absurdly careless...

  • about giving out invitations.

  • Don't touch the cucumber sandwiches.

  • They were ordered especially for Aunt Augusta.

  • You've been eating them all the time.

  • Well, that is quite a different matter.

  • She is my aunt.

  • That must be her.

  • Only relatives or creditors ever ring...

  • in that Wagnerian manner.

  • Now, if I manage to get her out of the way for 10 minutes...

  • so that you may have an opportunity...

  • for proposing to Gwendolen...

  • may I dine with you at the Savoy tonight?

  • Lady Bracknell and Miss Fairfax.

  • Good afternoon, dear Algy.

  • I hope you are behaving very well.

  • I'm feeling very well, Aunt Augusta.

  • That's not quite the same thing.

  • In fact, the two things rarely go together.

  • Lady Bracknell, I--

  • Oh, goodness, you are smart.

  • I'm always smart. Am I not, Mr. Worthing?

  • You are quite perfect, Miss Fairfax.

  • I hope I am not that.

  • It would leave no room for development...

  • and I intend to develop in many directions.

  • I'm sorry if we're a little late, Algy.

  • I was obliged to call on dear Lady Harbury.

  • I had not 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.

  • Certainly, Aunt Augusta.

  • Won't you sit here, Gwendolen?

  • Thanks, Mama, I'm quite comfortable where I am.

  • Good heavens, Lane, why are there no cucumber sandwiches?

  • There were no cucumbers in the market this morning, sir.

  • -I went down twice. -Oh, no cucumbers?

  • No, sir. Not even for ready money.

  • -That will do, Lane. -Thank you, sir.

  • I am greatly distressed, Aunt Augusta...

  • about there being no cucumbers, not even for ready money.

  • It really makes no matter, Algy.

  • I had some crumpets with Lady Harbury.

  • I've got quite a treat for you tonight, Algy.

  • I'm going to send you down with Mary Farquhar.

  • -She is such a nice-- -I'm afraid, Aunt Augusta...

  • I shall have to give up the pleasure...

  • of dining with you tonight.

  • I hope not, Algy.

  • It will put my table completely out.

  • It is a great bore, and I need hardly say...

  • a terrible disappointment to me...

  • but I've just had a telegram to say...

  • that my poor friend Bunbury is very ill again.

  • They seem to think I should be with him.

  • Very strange.

  • This Mr. Bunbury seems to suffer...

  • from curiously bad health.

  • Yes, poor Bunbury is a dreadful invalid.

  • I must say, Algy, I think it is high time...

  • Mr. Bunbury made up his mind whether to live or die.

  • This shilly-shallying with the question is absurd.

  • I should be much obliged if you would ask...

  • Mr. Bunbury from me to be kind enough...

  • not to have a relapse next Saturday.

  • It is my last reception, and I rely on you...

  • to arrange my music for me.

  • I'll speak to Bunbury, Aunt Augusta...

  • if he's still conscious.

  • Now, if you'll follow me into the next room...

  • I'll run over the musical program...

  • I've already drawn up for the occasion.

  • Thank you, Algy.

  • It is very thoughtful of you.

  • Gwendolen, you will accompany me.

  • Certainly, Mama.

  • Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax.

  • 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.

  • -I do mean something else. -I thought so.

  • And I would like to take advantage...

  • of Lady Bracknell's temporary absence--

  • I would certainly advise you to do so.

  • Mama has a way of coming back suddenly into a room...

  • that I've often had to speak to her about.

  • Miss Fairfax, ever since I met you...

  • I have admired you more than any girl...

  • I have ever met since I met you.

  • Yes, I'm quite 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.

  • Gwendolen--

  • Even before I met you...

  • I was far from indifferent to you.

  • We live, as I hope you know, Mr. Worthing...

  • in an age of ideals, and my ideal has always been...

  • to love someone of the name of Ernest.

  • There's something in that name...

  • that inspires absolute confidence.

  • The moment Algy first mentioned to me...

  • that he had a friend called Ernest...

  • I knew I was destined to love you.

  • -You really love me, Gwendolen? -Passionately.

  • Darling, you don't know how happy you've made me.

  • My own Ernest.

  • You don't mean to say though, dear...

  • you couldn't love me if my name wasn't Ernest.

  • But your name is Ernest.

  • Yes, I know it is...

  • but supposing it was something else?

  • Ah. Well, 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.

  • Personally, darling, to speak quite candidly...

  • I don't much care about the name of Ernest.

  • I don't think it suits me at all.

  • It suits you perfectly. It is a divine name.

  • It has a music of its own.

  • It produces vibrations.

  • Well, really, Gwendolen...

  • I must say I think there are lots of other much nicer names.

  • I think...

  • Jack, for instance, a charming name.

  • Jack?

  • I've known several Jacks, and they all...

  • without exception, were more than usually plain.

  • Mm.

  • The only really safe name is Ernest.

  • Gwendolen, we must get married at once.

  • Married, Mr. Worthing?

  • Well, surely.

  • You know that I love you, and you led me to believe...

  • Miss Fairfax, that you were not absolutely indifferent to me.

  • I adore you.

  • But you haven't proposed to me yet.

  • Nothing's been said at all about marriage.

  • The subject has not even been touched on.

  • Gwendolen.

  • Yes, Mr. Worthing, what have you to say to me?

  • You know what I have to say to you.

  • Yes, but you don't say it.

  • Gwendolen, will you marry me?

  • Mr. Worthing!

  • Rise, sir, from this semi-recumbent posture.

  • It is most indecorous.

  • Mama! I must beg you to retire.

  • Mr. Worthing has not quite finished yet.

  • Finished what, may I ask?

  • I am engaged to be married to Mr. Worthing, Mama.

  • Pardon me, Gwendolen. You are not engaged to anyone.

  • When you do become engaged to someone...

  • I or your father, should his health permit him...

  • will inform you of the fact.

  • You will wait for me below in the carriage.

  • -Mama-- -In the carriage, Gwendolen.

  • Gwendolen! The carriage!

  • I feel bound to tell you, Mr. Worthing...

  • you are not down on my list of eligible young men.

  • However, I'm quite ready...

  • to enter your name as a possible candidate.

  • Perhaps you would attend a meeting at my house...

  • at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning.

  • I shall have a few questions to put to you.

  • Algernon?

  • So, did you tell Gwendolen the truth...

  • about being Ernest in town and Jack in the country?

  • My dear fellow...

  • the truth isn't quite the sort of thing...

  • one tells to a nice, sweet, refined girl.

  • What extraordinary ideas you have...

  • about the way to behave to a woman.

  • The only way to behave to a woman...

  • is to make love to her if she's pretty...

  • and to someone else if she is plain.

  • That is nonsense.

  • You never talk anything but nonsense.

  • Well, nobody ever does.

  • Oh, my dear fellow, you forgot to pay the bill.

  • Not at all, I make it a point never to pay at the Savoy.

  • Why on earth not? You have heaps of money.

  • Yes, but Ernest hasn't...

  • and he's got quite a reputation to keep up.

  • Cecily?

  • More intellectual pleasures await you, my child.

  • You should put away your diary, Cecily.

  • I really don't see why you should keep a diary at all.

  • I keep a diary in order to enter...

  • the wonderful secrets of my life.

  • If I didn't write them down...

  • I should probably forget all about them.

  • Memory, my dear Cecily...

  • is the diary that we all carry about with us.

  • I believe memory is responsible...

  • for nearly all these three-volume novels...

  • people write nowadays.

  • Do not speak slightingly of the three-volume novel, Cecily.

  • I wrote one myself in earlier days.

  • Did you really, Miss Prism?

  • I hope it did not end happily.

  • The good ended happily and the bad unhappily.

  • That is what fiction means.

  • Do your work, child.

  • These speculations are profitless.

  • But I see dear Dr. Chasuble...

  • coming through the garden.

  • Oh, Dr. Chasuble!

  • This is indeed a pleasure.

  • And how are we today?

  • Miss Prism, you are, I trust, well.

  • Miss Prism has just been complaining...

  • of a slight headache. I think it would do her...

  • so much good to have a short stroll with you...

  • in the park, Dr. Chasuble.

  • Cecily! I have not mentioned anything about a headache.

  • No, dear Miss Prism. I know that...

  • but I felt instinctively that you had a headache.

  • Indeed, I was thinking about that...

  • and not my German lesson when the rector came along.

  • I hope, Cecily, you are not inattentive.

  • -I am afraid I am. -That's strange.

  • Were I fortunate enough to be Miss Prism's pupil...

  • I would hang upon her lips.

  • I spoke metaphorically.

  • My metaphor was drawn from...bees.

  • Ahem. I shall, um...

  • see you both, no doubt, at Evensong.

  • Good luck, sir.

  • Ernest!

  • -This way, sir. -Shall I, uh--

  • You can take a seat, Mr. Worthing.

  • Thank you, Lady Bracknell. I prefer standing.

  • Do you smoke?

  • Well, yes, I must admit I smoke.

  • I'm glad to hear it.

  • A man should always have an occupation of some kind.

  • There are far too many idle men in London as it is.

  • -How old are you? -Thirty-five.

  • A very good age to be married at.

  • I've always been of opinion...

  • that a man who desires to get married...

  • should know either everything or nothing.

  • Which do you know?

  • I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.

  • I'm pleased to hear it.

  • I do not approve of anything that tampers...

  • with natural ignorance.

  • Ignorance is like a delicate, exotic fruit.

  • Touch it, and the bloom is gone.

  • The whole theory of modern education...

  • is radically unsound.

  • Fortunately, in England, at any rate...

  • education produces no effect whatsoever.

  • If it did, it would prove a serious danger...

  • to the upper classes and probably lead...

  • to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square.

  • -What is your income? -Between 7 and 8,000 a year.

  • -In land or in investments? -In investments, chiefly.

  • Oh, that is satisfactory.

  • I have a country house with some land...

  • of course, attached to it.

  • About 1,500 acres, I believe.

  • You have a town house, I hope.

  • A girl with a simple, unspoiled nature like Gwendolen...

  • could hardly be expected to reside in the country.

  • Well, of course I also own a house in Belgrave Square.

  • -Number? -A hundred and forty-nine.

  • The unfashionable side. I thought there was something.

  • However, that could easily be altered.

  • Do you mean the fashion or the side?

  • Well, both, if necessary, I presume.

  • Are your parents living?

  • I have lost both my parents.

  • To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing...

  • may be regarded as a misfortune.

  • To lose both looks like carelessness.

  • Who was your father?

  • He was evidently a man of some wealth.

  • I'm afraid I really don't know.

  • The fact is, Lady Bracknell, I said I had lost my parents.

  • It would be nearer the truth...

  • to say my parents seem to have lost me.

  • I actually don't know who I am by birth.

  • I was--

  • Well, I was found.

  • Found?

  • The late Mr. Thomas Cardew, an old gentleman...

  • of a very charitable and kindly disposition...

  • found me and gave me the name of Worthing...

  • because he happened to have a first-class ticket...

  • for Worthing in his pocket at the time.

  • Worthing is a place in Sussex. It is a seaside resort.

  • And where did this charitable gentlemen...

  • with a first-class ticket for the seaside resort...

  • find you?

  • In a handbag.

  • -A handbag? -Yes, Lady Bracknell.

  • I was in a handbag--

  • a somewhat large, um, black leather handbag...

  • with handles to it.

  • An ordinary handbag, in fact.

  • In what locality did this Mr. James or Thomas Cardew...

  • come across this ordinary handbag?

  • In the cloakroom at Victoria Station.

  • It was given him in mistake for his own.

  • The cloakroom at Victoria Station?

  • Yes. The Brighton line.

  • The line is immaterial.

  • Mr. Worthing, I confess I am somewhat bewildered...

  • by what you have just told me.

  • To be born or at any rate bred in a handbag...

  • whether it has handles or not...

  • seems to me to display a contempt...

  • for the ordinary decencies of family life...

  • which remind one of the worst excesses...

  • of the French Revolution.

  • And I presume you know...

  • what that unfortunate movement led to.

  • May I ask you then...

  • what you would advise me to do?

  • I need hardly say I would do anything...

  • in the world to ensure Gwendolen's happiness.

  • I would strongly advise you, Mr. Worthing...

  • to try and acquire some relations as soon as possible...

  • and to make a definite effort to produce at any rate...

  • one parent of either sex before the season is quite over.

  • I don't see how I could possibly manage to do that.

  • I can produce the handbag at any moment.

  • It's in my storeroom at home.

  • I really think that should satisfy you, Lady Bracknell.

  • Me, sir?

  • What has it to do with me?

  • You can hardly imagine that I and Lord Bracknell...

  • would dream of allowing our only daughter--

  • a girl brought up with the utmost care--

  • to marry into a cloakroom...

  • and form an alliance with a parcel.

  • Good morning, Mr. Worthing.

  • Good morning.

  • You don't think there's any chance of Gwendolen becoming...

  • like her mother in about 150 years, do you, Algy?

  • My dear fellow, all women become...

  • like their mothers. That is their tragedy.

  • No man does, and that's his.

  • Is that clever?

  • It's perfectly phrased and about as true...

  • as any observation in civilized life should be.

  • Ernest.

  • -Gwendolen! -Ernest, my dear Ernest.

  • Algy, please, I have something...

  • very particular to say to Mr. Worthing.

  • My own darling.

  • Ernest, the story of your romantic origin...

  • as related to me by Mama with unpleasing comments...

  • has naturally stirred the deeper fibres of my nature.

  • I followed you here to reassure you...

  • that there is nothing that she can possibly do...

  • can alter my eternal devotion to you.

  • Dear Gwendolen.

  • Your town address at The Albany I have.

  • What is your address in the country?

  • The Manor, Woolton, Hertfordshire.

  • I will communicate with you daily.

  • My own one.

  • Yes. I must confess. I do smoke.

  • I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.

  • I can produce the handbag at a moment's notice.

  • Shh! Shh.

  • Before you can be found...

  • in a handbag at a railway station...

  • someone must have lost you in a handbag...

  • at a railway station. Do you see?

  • In the first place, what with Lady Bracknell...

  • sniffing about, dear, dissolute Ernest...

  • is a risk I can no longer afford.

  • And secondly, Cecily is becoming a little too much...

  • interested in him. It's rather a bore.

  • I'd rather like to meet Cecily.

  • Well. I shall take very good care you never do.

  • She is excessively pretty and only just eighteen.

  • No, I'll say he died in Paris of apoplexy.

  • But it's hereditary, my dear fellow.

  • It's the sort of thing that runs in families.

  • You had much better say it was a severe chill.

  • Very well. then.

  • Poor brother Ernest is carried off suddenly...

  • in Paris by a severe chill.

  • That gets rid of him.

  • Have you told Gwendolen that you have...

  • an excessively pretty ward who's only just eighteen?

  • No. One doesn't blurt these things out to people.

  • Cecily and Gwendolen are perfectly certain...

  • to become extremely great friends.

  • I bet you anything half an hour after they've met...

  • they will be calling each other sister.

  • Women only do that when they have...

  • called each other a lot of other things first.

  • Don't let me disturb you.

  • I hope tomorrow will be a fine day, Lane.

  • It never is, sir.

  • You are a perfect pessimist.

  • I do my best to give satisfaction, sir.

  • Thank you.

  • You can put out my dress clothes...

  • my smoking jacket...

  • and even bring on the curling tongs.

  • Yes, sir.

  • Tomorrow, Lane...

  • I'm going Bunburying.

  • Yes. sir.

  • That must be it over there.

  • Bring it down there, Mr. Smithers.

  • Ask Mr. Ernest Worthing to come here.

  • Yes. Miss.

  • You are my little cousin Cecily, I'm sure.

  • You are under some strange mistake.

  • I'm not little. In fact, I believe...

  • I'm more than usually tall for my age.

  • But I am your cousin Cecily.

  • And you--you, I see from your card...

  • are Uncle Jack's brother, my cousin Ernest.

  • My wicked cousin Ernest.

  • I'm not really wicked at all, Cousin Cecily.

  • You mustn't think that I'm wicked.

  • Well, if you are not, then you've certainly...

  • been deceiving us all in a very inexcusable manner.

  • Well, I have been rather reckless.

  • I'm glad to hear it.

  • In fact, now that you mention the subject...

  • I have been very bad in my own small way.

  • Well, I don't think you should be so proud of that...

  • though I am sure it must've been very pleasant.

  • It's much pleasanter being here with you.

  • I can't understand how you're here at all.

  • Uncle Jack won't be back till Monday afternoon.

  • Oh, that is a great disappointment.

  • I'm obliged to go out...

  • by the first train on Monday morning.

  • I have a business appointment that I'm anxious to miss.

  • That's all very well, but still...

  • I think you had better wait until Uncle Jack arrives.

  • I know he wants to speak to you about your emigrating.

  • About my what?

  • Uncle Jack is sending you to Australia.

  • Australia? I'd sooner die.

  • He said at dinner on Wednesday night...

  • that you would have to choose between this world...

  • the next world, and Australia.

  • Oh, well.

  • The accounts I have received of Australia...

  • and the next world are not particularly...

  • encouraging, Cousin Cecily.

  • This world is good enough for me.

  • Yes, but are you good enough for it?

  • No, I'm afraid not.

  • That is why I want you to reform me.

  • You might make that your mission...

  • if you don't mind, Cousin Cecily.

  • I'm afraid I've no time this afternoon.

  • Well, would you mind me...

  • reforming myself this afternoon?

  • It is rather quixotic of you, but I think you should try.

  • I will.

  • -I feel better already. -You're looking a little worse.

  • Well, that's because I'm hungry.

  • -Mr. Worthing! -Mr. Worthing!

  • This is indeed a surprise.

  • We did not look for you till Monday afternoon.

  • I have returned sooner than I expected.

  • Dear Mr. Worthing, I trust this garb of woe...

  • does not betoken some terrible calamity.

  • My brother.

  • More shameful debts and extravagance.

  • Still leading a life of pleasure.

  • Dead.

  • Your brother Ernest is dead?

  • Quite dead.

  • What a lesson for him! I trust he will profit by it.

  • He had many faults, but it is a sad, sad blow.

  • Yes. indeed. sad.

  • Um, were you with him at the end?

  • No. He died abroad. In Paris, in fact.

  • I had a telegram last night...

  • from the manager of the Grand Hotel.

  • Is the cause of death mentioned?

  • A severe chill, it seems.

  • As a man sows, so shall he reap.

  • Oh, charity, Miss Prism, charity.

  • I myself am peculiarly susceptible to draft.

  • Ah...ah...Ah-choo!

  • Bless you.

  • Uncle Jack, I'm so pleased to see you back.

  • What is the matter, Uncle Jack? Do look happy.

  • You look as if you had toothache...

  • and I have such a surprise for you.

  • Who do you think is in the rose garden?

  • Your brother.

  • -Who? -Your brother Ernest.

  • He arrived about half an hour ago.

  • Nonsense. I haven't got a brother.

  • -I mean... -Well, he's...

  • Come, he'll be so pleased to see you've returned so soon.

  • I--

  • These are joyful tidings.

  • Good heavens.

  • Brother John, I've come down from town...

  • to tell you that I'm very sorry...

  • for all the trouble I have given you...

  • and that I fully intend...

  • to lead a better life in the future.

  • Well, what can I say?

  • The old Ernest is dead. Long live the new Ernest.

  • I thought you'd like my little joke.

  • Your little joke?

  • Knowing me as you do, brother John...

  • I'm surprised you took it so seriously.

  • At any rate, I stand before you now...

  • an entirely new man, risen, as it were...

  • like a phoenix from the ashes.

  • Uncle Jack, you're not going to refuse...

  • your own brother's hand.

  • Nothing would induce me to take his hand.

  • I think his behaviour utterly disgraceful.

  • He knows perfectly well why!

  • Do shake his hand, Uncle Jack.

  • After all, it could be worse. I could be dead in Paris.

  • You could, indeed.

  • Of a severe chill.

  • Sorry about that, Jack. Shake. Go on.

  • Excuse me, sir.

  • We're putting Mr. Ernest's things...

  • in the blue room on the second floor.

  • Very nice to see you, Doctor. Do tell me, when is confession?

  • What?

  • Mr. Ernest's luggage, sir.

  • We're taking it up to the blue room.

  • -His luggage? -Yes, sir.

  • Two portmanteaus, two dressing cases...

  • two hat boxes, and a large luncheon basket.

  • I fear I can only stay a week this time.

  • Heh heh.

  • -You scoundrel, Algy. -Mm?

  • What have you to say for yourself?

  • What I have to say, Uncle Jack...

  • is that little Cecily is a darling.

  • You are not to talk of Miss Cardew like that!

  • I don't like it.

  • Your vanity is ridiculous...

  • your conduct an outrage, and your presence...

  • in my house utterly absurd!

  • However, you have got to catch the four-five train.

  • I hope you have a pleasant journey back to town.

  • This Bunburying, as you call it...

  • has not been a great success for you.

  • It's pleasant. is it not...

  • to see so perfect a reconciliation.

  • I think it's been a great success.

  • Dinner is served.

  • Cecily.

  • Might I have a buttonhole first?

  • I never have an appetite unless I have a buttonhole.

  • Mr. Worthing.

  • -Marigold? -No.

  • I'd sooner have a pink rose.

  • Why?

  • Because you are like a pink rose, Cousin Cecily.

  • I don't think it could be right...

  • for you to talk to me like that.

  • Miss Prism never says such things to me.

  • Then Miss Prism is a short-sighted old lady.

  • You are the prettiest girl I ever saw.

  • You see, Uncle Jack, there is some good in everyone.

  • Ernest has just been telling me about his poor invalid friend...

  • whom he goes to visit so often.

  • Oh, he has been talking about poor Mr. Bunbury, has he?

  • 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.

  • Right. It's first class.

  • -Good morning, sir. -Good morning.

  • Dear Ernest...

  • how desperately I have missed you.

  • It seems an age since I last saw you...

  • and our separation is now proving an intolerable strain.

  • The feelings you have aroused within me...

  • are at once delightful and exquisitely...

  • painful.

  • My dearest darling Ernest...

  • it is your very name that inspires me now...

  • to take my future in my hands--

  • burnt. as it were. into my very being.

  • And so it is. I have resolved to flee these prison walls...

  • and make my way directly to your side...

  • to my one and only...

  • Ernest.

  • Ernest.

  • Algy.

  • Algy.

  • Ernest.

  • Ah. Good morning, my dear fellow.

  • We have to talk. You have to leave.

  • If I leave, how can we talk?

  • We cannot both be called Ernest

  • I don't believe we are, Brother Jack.

  • I believe you are praiseworthy.

  • He, she, it praises.

  • You're snoring?

  • I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you...

  • if I state quite openly and frankly...

  • You seem to me to be in every way...

  • the visible personification of absolute perfection.

  • I think your frankness does you great credit, Ernest.

  • If you will allow me, I will copy your remarks into my diary.

  • Do you keep a diary? I'd give anything to see it.

  • Oh, no. You'd see it as simply a very young girl's record...

  • of her own thoughts and impressions.

  • But, pray, Ernest, I delight in taking down from dictation.

  • You can go on.

  • Don't cough, Ernest. When one is dictating...

  • one should speak fluently and not cough.

  • Cecily, ever since I first looked upon...

  • your wondrous and incomparable beauty...

  • I have dared to love you-- wildly...

  • wildly...

  • -passionately... -Ahem.

  • devotedly, hopelessly.

  • I beg your pardon, sir.

  • There are two gentlemen wishing to see you.

  • -Mr. Ernest Worthing? -Yes.

  • -Of B.4, The Albany? -Yes, that is my address.

  • I am very sorry. sir...

  • but I have a writ of attachment against you...

  • and the suit of the Savoy Hotel Company Limited...

  • for 762 pounds, 14 shillings.

  • What perfect nonsense.

  • I never dine at the Savoy at my own expense.

  • In the interests of our clients...

  • we have no option but to take out an order...

  • for committal of your person.

  • -Committal? Of my person? -For six months.

  • Oh, for six months? Ha ha!

  • No doubt you'll prefer to pay the bill.

  • Pay it? How on earth am I going to do that?

  • No gentleman ever has any money.

  • In my experience, it is usually relations who pay.

  • Oh, all right. Uh, Brother Jack?

  • 762 pounds, 14 shillings, and a tuppence--

  • since last October.

  • I'm bound to say...

  • I never saw such reckless extravagance in all my life.

  • My dear fellow, how ridiculous you are.

  • You have your debts, and I have mine.

  • You know quite well this bill is really yours.

  • -Mine? -Yes, and you know it.

  • -Mr. Worthing...

  • if this is another jest, it is most out of place.

  • -It is not. -It is gross effrontery.

  • Just what I expected from him.

  • And it is ingratitude. I didn't expect that.

  • Next thing you know. he'll be denying...

  • he's Ernest Worthing in the first place.

  • I'm sorry to disturb this so pleasant family meeting...

  • but time presses.

  • We have to be at Holloway not later than four o'clock.

  • Otherwise, it is difficult to obtain admission.

  • The rules are very strict.

  • Holloway? But--Get off me!

  • It is at Holloway that detentions of this character...

  • are made away.

  • I will not be imprisoned for having dined in the West End!

  • Jack!

  • I agree to settle my brother's accounts...

  • on the condition that he makes his way without delay...

  • to the bedside of the poor bed-ridden Bunbury...

  • whose health, I have recently been informed...

  • is rapidly declining.

  • Well, Ernest?

  • ...it's only life.

  • Mr. Worthing.

  • I would ask you not to interrupt...

  • Miss Cardew's studies.

  • Miss Prism, I almost forgot to mention...

  • that Dr. Chasuble is expecting you in the vestry.

  • In the vestry? Dr. Chasuble?

  • Expecting you, yes.

  • That sounds serious.

  • I do not think it would be right to keep him waiting, Cecily.

  • It would be very, very wrong.

  • The vestry is, I am told, excessively damp.

  • This parting, Miss Cardew, is very painful.

  • But I suppose you cannot desert...

  • poor Mr. Bunbury in his hour of need.

  • I don't care about Bunbury anymore.

  • I don't seem to care about anything anymore.

  • I only care for you. I love you, Cecily.

  • Will you marry me, Cecily? Will you?

  • Of course.

  • Why, we have been engaged for the last three months.

  • For the last three months?

  • Yes. It will be exactly three months on Thursday.

  • Darling...

  • Aah!

  • So, when was the engagement actually settled?

  • On the fourteenth of February last.

  • After a long struggle with myself...

  • I accepted you under this dear old tree here.

  • And this is the box in which I keep all your dear letters.

  • My letters?

  • But my own sweet Cecily, I have never written you any letters.

  • 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.

  • -Do let me look at them. -Oh, no, I couldn't possibly.

  • They would make you far too conceited.

  • The three you wrote after I had broken off the engagement...

  • were so beautiful and so badly spelled.

  • Even now I can hardly read them without crying a little.

  • Was our engagement ever broken off?

  • -Yes, of course it was. -What?

  • On the twenty-second of last March.

  • You can see the entry if you like.

  • "Today I broke off my engagement with Ernest.

  • "The weather still continues charming."

  • Why on earth did you break it off?

  • What had I done? I had done nothing at all.

  • I'm very much hurt indeed to hear you broke it off.

  • Particularly when the weather was so charming.

  • Well, it would hardly have been a really serious engagement...

  • if I hadn't broken it off at least once, Ernest.

  • But I forgave you before the week was out.

  • Oh, you're a perfect angel.

  • -You dear romantic boy. -Mmm.

  • You know, I never really thought of myself...

  • as the marrying kind until now.

  • You mustn't break it off again, Cecily.

  • Well, I don't think I could break it off...

  • now that I've actually met you.

  • Besides, of course, there is the question of your name.

  • Yes, of course.

  • You mustn't laugh at me, darling...

  • but it has always been a girlish dream of mine...

  • to love someone whose name is Ernest.

  • There's something in that name...

  • that seems to inspire absolute confidence.

  • My own dear joy, do you mean to say you couldn't love me...

  • if I had another name?

  • -But what name? -Well...

  • Algy, for instance.

  • I might respect you, Ernest...

  • I might admire your character...

  • but I fear that I would never be able to give you...

  • my undivided attention.

  • Mmm. Mmm.

  • Ahem.

  • The dog cart is ready for you, sir.

  • -Ahem. -Ahem.

  • And now you must go, my love...

  • for sooner then shall you return.

  • Oh, what a charming boy.

  • I like his hair so much.

  • You wanted to see me, Dr. Chasuble?

  • I didn't.

  • Oh.

  • You didn't?

  • Oh.

  • I'm sorry...

  • but merely for the purposes of clarification...

  • when you said you didn't...

  • did you mean you didn't say you wanted to see me...

  • or that you didn't, in fact, want to see me?

  • Isn't language a curious thing?

  • Will you excuse me?

  • I have a double baptism this afternoon...

  • and I have to top up the font.

  • Bless you.

  • A Miss Fairfax has called to see Mr. Worthing--

  • on very important business, Miss Fairfax states.

  • Mr. Worthing is sure to be out soon, Merriman...

  • so kindly bring some tea.

  • Yes, miss.

  • -Miss Cardew. -Thank you.

  • Miss Fairfax, pray let me introduce myself to you.

  • My name is Cecily Cardew.

  • Cecily Cardew. What a very sweet name.

  • Something tells me we're going to be great friends.

  • I like you already more than I can say...

  • and my first impressions of people are never wrong.

  • You're here on a short visit, I suppose.

  • -Oh, no, I live here. -Really?

  • Your mother, no doubt, or some female relative...

  • of advanced years resides here also.

  • Oh, no. I have no mother, nor, in fact, any relations.

  • -Indeed. -My dear guardian...

  • has the arduous task of looking after me.

  • -Your guardian? -I'm Mr. Worthing's ward.

  • Oh.

  • It is strange. He never mentioned it.

  • How secretive of him. Ha ha ha!

  • He grows more interesting hourly.

  • But I am bound to state that...

  • now that I know you are Mr. Worthing's ward...

  • I cannot help expressing a wish that you were...

  • well, just a little bit older than you seem to be...

  • and not quite so very alluring in appearance.

  • In fact, if I may speak candidly...

  • Pray do. I think whenever one...

  • has anything unpleasant to say...

  • one should always be quite candid.

  • Yes. Well, to speak with perfect candour, Cecily...

  • I wish you were fully forty-two...

  • and more than usually plain for your age.

  • Ernest has a strong upright nature.

  • He's the very soul of truth and honour.

  • I think--I think Jack, for instance.

  • Jack. I think Jack, for instance, a charming name.

  • Oh. but it is not Mr. Ernest Worthing...

  • who's my guardian.

  • It is his brother, his elder brother.

  • Oh. That accounts for it.

  • Cecily, you've lifted a load from my mind.

  • I was growing almost anxious.

  • Of course, you're quite sure...

  • it's not Mr. Ernest Worthing who is your guardian?

  • Quite sure.

  • In fact...

  • I am going to be his.

  • I beg your pardon?

  • Mr. Ernest Worthing and I are engaged to be married.

  • My darling Cecily, I think there must be some slight error.

  • Mr. Ernest Worthing is engaged to me.

  • The announcement will appear in the Morning Post...

  • on Saturday at the latest.

  • I'm afraid you must be under some misconception.

  • Ernest proposed to me exactly ten minutes ago.

  • Oh, it's very curious, for he asked me to be his wife...

  • yesterday afternoon at five thirty.

  • If you would care to verify the incident, pray do so.

  • I never travel without my diary.

  • One should always have something sensational to read...

  • in the train.

  • I'm so sorry, dear Cecily...

  • but I'm afraid I have the prior claim.

  • May I offer you some tea, Miss Fairfax?

  • Thank you, Miss Cardew.

  • Sugar?

  • No, thank you. Sugar is not fashionable anymore.

  • Cake or bread and butter?

  • Bread and butter, please.

  • Cake is rarely seen in the best houses nowadays.

  • From the moment I saw you, I distrusted you.

  • I felt that you were false and deceitful.

  • It seems to me, Miss Fairfax...

  • that I am trespassing on your valuable time.

  • No doubt, you have many other calls...

  • of a similar character to make in the neighbourhood.

  • Ernest.

  • -You're back so soon. -My own love.

  • A moment, Ernest.

  • May I ask you--

  • are you engaged to be married to this young lady?

  • What young lady?

  • Good heavens, Gwendolen.

  • Yes, to "Good heavens, Gwendolen".

  • Of course not. What put such an idea...

  • into your pretty little head?

  • Thank you. You may.

  • I felt there must be some slight error, Miss Cardew.

  • The gentleman who is now embracing you...

  • is my cousin Mr. Algernon Moncrieff.

  • Algernon? Moncrieff?

  • -Yes.

  • Algy.

  • Here is Ernest.

  • Oh, my own Ernest.

  • Gwendolen, my darling.

  • I knew there must be some misunderstanding. Miss Fairfax.

  • The man whose arm is at present around your waist...

  • is my guardian Mr. John Worthing.

  • I beg your pardon?

  • This is Uncle Jack.

  • Jack?

  • Are you called Algy?

  • I cannot deny it.

  • Is your name really John?

  • I could deny it if I liked.

  • I could deny anything if I liked...

  • but it certainly is John.

  • It has been John for years.

  • A gross deception has been practiced on both of us.

  • -My poor wounded Cecily. -My sweet wronged Gwendolen.

  • Ohh.

  • You will call me sister, will you not?

  • Of course.

  • Let us go into the house, sister.

  • They will hardly venture to come after us there.

  • No. Men are so cowardly, aren't they?

  • How you can sit there calmly eating muffins...

  • when we're in this horrible trouble I can't make out.

  • You seem to me to be perfectly heartless.

  • I can hardly eat muffins in an agitated manner, can l?

  • The butter would probably get on my cuffs.

  • I say, it's perfectly heartless you're eating muffins at all...

  • under the circumstances.

  • When I'm in trouble, eating is my only consolation.

  • Indeed, when I'm in really great trouble...

  • as anyone who knows me intimately will tell you...

  • I refuse everything except food and drink.

  • At the present moment, I am eating muffins...

  • because I am unhappy.

  • Besides, I am particularly fond of muffins.

  • There's no reason why you should eat them all...

  • in that greedy way.

  • Would you like some tea cake? I don't like tea cake.

  • Good heavens! I suppose a man...

  • may eat his own muffins in his own garden.

  • They seem to be eating muffins.

  • But you just said it was perfectly heartless...

  • to eat muffins.

  • I said it was perfectly heartless...

  • of you under the circumstances.

  • That is a very different thing.

  • Maybe, but the muffins are the same.

  • No.

  • Give them to me!

  • Well, I certainly don't rate your chances...

  • with my ward, Algernon.

  • Well, I don't think there's much likelihood...

  • of you, Jack, and Miss Fairfax being united, Jack!

  • But is there any particular infant...

  • in whom you are interested, Mr. Worthing?

  • The fact is, dear doctor...

  • I would like to be christened myself.

  • This afternoon, if you have nothing better to do.

  • Surely, Mr. Worthing, you've been christened already.

  • I don't remember anything about it.

  • Of course, I don't know...

  • if the thing would bother you in any way...

  • or if you think that I'm a little too old now.

  • No, no, no. Not at all, not at all.

  • The sprinkling and, indeed, immersion...

  • of adults is a perfectly canonical practice.

  • What hour would you wish the ceremony performed?

  • I might trot round at about six o'clock...

  • if that would suit you.

  • Oh, perfectly, perfectly.

  • Thank you.

  • But we cannot both be christened Ernest.

  • It's absurd.

  • I have a perfect right to be christened if I like.

  • But you've been christened already.

  • Yes, but I haven't been christened for years.

  • But you've been christened. That is the important thing.

  • Quite so. So, I know my constitution can stand it.

  • If you're not quite sure...

  • about your ever having been christened...

  • I must say, I think it rather dangerous...

  • your venturing on it now.

  • Oh, nonsense. You are always talking nonsense.

  • Let us preserve a dignified silence.

  • Certainly. It's the only thing to do now.

  • The western wind is blowing fair

  • Across the dark Aegean Sea

  • And at the secret marble stair

  • My Tyrian galley waits for thee

  • Come down. the purple sail is spread

  • The watchman sleeps within the town

  • This dignified silence seems to have produced...

  • an unpleasant effect.

  • A most distasteful one.

  • O lady mine, come down

  • Come down

  • Dum dum dum dum

  • Lady, come down

  • She will not come. I know her well

  • Of lover's vows. she hath no care

  • And little good a man can tell

  • For one so cruel and so fair

  • True love is but a woman's toy

  • They never know the lover's pain

  • And I who loved as love's a boy

  • Must love in vain. must love in vain

  • Come down

  • Lady, come down

  • Come down

  • Lady, come down

  • Lady, come down

  • We will not be the first to speak.

  • Certainly not.

  • Mr. Worthing, I have something very particular to ask you.

  • Much depends on your reply.

  • Gwendolen, your common sense is invaluable.

  • Mr. Moncrieff, kindly answer me the following question.

  • Why did you pretend to be my guardian's brother?

  • In order that I might have an opportunity of meeting you.

  • That certainly seems a satisfactory explanation.

  • Yes, dear, if you can believe him.

  • Well, I don't, but that doesn't affect...

  • the wonderful beauty of his answer.

  • True. In matters of grave importance...

  • style, not sincerity, is the vital thing.

  • Mr. Worthing, what possible explanation...

  • can you offer me for pretending to have a brother?

  • Was it in order that you might have an opportunity...

  • of coming up to town to see me as often as possible?

  • Can you doubt it, Miss Fairfax?

  • I have the gravest doubts on the subject...

  • but I intend to crush them.

  • Their explanations appear to be quite satisfactory, espe--

  • Especially Mr. Worthing's.

  • That seems to me to have the stamp of truth upon it.

  • I am more than content with what Mr. Moncrieff said.

  • His voice alone seemed to inspire absolute credulity.

  • Then you think we should forgive them?

  • Yes.

  • I mean, no.

  • True, there are principles at stake...

  • that one cannot surrender.

  • Your Christian names are still an insuperable barrier.

  • That is all.

  • -Our Christian names? -Is that all?

  • We're going to be christened this afternoon.

  • For my sake, you're prepared to do this terrible thing?

  • I am.

  • To please me, you're ready to face this fearful ordeal?

  • I am.

  • Where questions of self-sacrifice are concerned...

  • men are infinitely beyond us.

  • -We are. -Darling.

  • Darling.

  • -Lady Bracknell. -Gwendolen!

  • What does this mean?

  • Merely that I am engaged to be married to Mr. Worthing, Mama.

  • Come here.

  • Sit down.

  • Sit down immediately.

  • Of course, you will clearly understand, sir...

  • that all communication between yourself and my daughter...

  • must cease immediately from this moment.

  • On this point, as indeed on all points, I am firm.

  • I am engaged to be married to Gwendolen, Lady Bracknell.

  • You are nothing of the kind, sir.

  • And now, as regards Algy...

  • Algy?

  • Yes, Aunt Augusta.

  • May I ask if it is in this house...

  • that your invalid friend Mr. Bunbury resides?

  • Oh, no, Bunbury doesn't live here.

  • Bunbury's somewhere else at the present.

  • In fact, um, ahem...

  • Bunbury is dead.

  • -Dead? -Dead.

  • When did Mr. Bunbury die?

  • His death must've been extremely sudden.

  • Bunbury died this afternoon.

  • What did he die of?

  • Bunbury?

  • He was quite exploded.

  • Exploded?

  • Mm.

  • Was he the victim of some revolutionary outrage?

  • I was not aware that Mr. Bunbury was interested...

  • in social legislation.

  • My dear Aunt Augusta, I mean he was found out.

  • The doctors found out that Bunbury could not live.

  • That is what I mean.

  • So Bunbury died.

  • He seems to have had great confidence...

  • in the opinion of his physicians.

  • I am glad, however, that he made his up mind...

  • at the last to some definite course of action...

  • and acted under proper medical advice.

  • And now that we have finally got rid of this Mr. Bunbury...

  • may I ask, Mr. Worthing, who is that young person...

  • whose hand my nephew Algernon is now holding...

  • in what seems to me to be a peculiarly unnecessary manner?

  • That lady is Miss Cecily Cardew, my ward.

  • Yes, I am engaged to be married to Cecily, Aunt Augusta.

  • I beg your pardon?

  • Mr. Moncrieff and I are engaged to be married, Lady Bracknell.

  • I do not know whether there's anything...

  • peculiarly exciting about the air...

  • of this particular part of Hertfordshire...

  • but the number of engagements that go on seem to me...

  • to be considerably above the proper average...

  • that statistics have laid down for our guidance.

  • Mr. Worthing...

  • is Miss Cardew at all connected...

  • with any of the larger railway stations in London?

  • I merely desire information.

  • Until recently, I was not aware...

  • that there were any families or persons...

  • whose origin was a terminus.

  • Gwendolen, the time approaches for our departure.

  • We have not a moment to lose.

  • As a matter of form, Mr. Worthing, I'd better ask...

  • if Miss Cardew has any little fortune.

  • Oh, about £130,000 in the funds, that is all.

  • Good-bye, Lady Bracknell, so pleased to have seen you.

  • A moment, Mr. Worthing.

  • A hundred and thirty thousand pounds?

  • And in the funds?

  • Miss Cardew seems to me to be a most attractive young lady...

  • now that I look at her.

  • Come over here, dear.

  • The chin a little higher, dear.

  • Style largely depends on the way the chin is worn.

  • They're worn very high just at present.

  • -Algy? -Yes, Aunt Augusta.

  • There are distinct social possibilities...

  • in Miss Cardew's profile.

  • Cecily is the sweetest, dearest, prettiest girl...

  • in the whole world, and I don't give tuppence...

  • for her social possibilities.

  • Never speak disrespectfully of society, Algernon.

  • Only people who can't get into it do that.

  • Dear child, you know, of course...

  • that Algy has nothing but his debts to depend upon.

  • But I do not approve of mercenary marriages.

  • Indeed, when I married Lord Bracknell...

  • I had no fortune of any kind.

  • But I never dreamed for a moment...

  • of allowing that to stand in my way.

  • Well, I suppose I must give my consent.

  • Thank you, Aunt Augusta.

  • I beg your pardon for interrupting you...

  • Lady Bracknell, but I am Miss Cardew's guardian.

  • She cannot marry without my consent...

  • until she comes of age...

  • and that consent I absolutely decline to give.

  • Upon what grounds, may I ask?

  • I suspect him of being untruthful.

  • Untruthful?

  • My nephew Algy?

  • I fear there can be no possible doubt about the matter.

  • During my temporary absence in London...

  • on an important question of romance...

  • he obtained admission to my house...

  • by means of the false pretence of being my brother.

  • He then proceeded to win over...

  • the affections of my only ward...

  • when his own intentions, I'm utterly convinced...

  • were purely financial.

  • Deny it if you dare.

  • He subsequently stayed to tea...

  • and devoured every single muffin...

  • and what makes his behaviour all the more heartless...

  • is that he was perfectly aware from the start...

  • that I have no brother, that I never had a brother...

  • and that I don't intend to have a brother, not even of any kind.

  • -Uncle Jack, please! -On my word, Jack.

  • Come here, sweet child.

  • How old are you, dear?

  • -Eighteen, Aunt Augusta. -Eighteen!

  • Well, it will not be long before you are of age...

  • and free from the restraints of your guardian.

  • According to the terms of her grandfather's will...

  • she does not come legally of age until she is thirty-five.

  • That does not seem to me to be a grave objection.

  • Thirty-five is a very attractive age.

  • London society is full of women...

  • of the very highest birth who have...

  • of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.

  • Algy, could you wait for me till I was thirty-five?

  • Of course, I could. You know I could.

  • Yes, I felt it instinctively.

  • But I couldn't wait all that time.

  • Then what is to be done, Cecily?

  • I don't know, Mr. Moncrieff.

  • My dear Mr. Worthing...

  • as Miss Cardew states quite positively...

  • that she cannot wait until she is thirty-five--

  • a remark which I am bound to say...

  • seems to me to show a somewhat impatient nature--

  • I would beg you to reconsider your decision.

  • Dear Lady Bracknell, the matter is entirely in your own hands.

  • The moment you consent to my marriage with Gwendolen...

  • I will most gladly allow your nephew...

  • to form an alliance with my ward.

  • You must be aware that what you propose is out of the question.

  • Then a passionate celibacy...

  • is all any of us can look forward to.

  • -Oh, but Mama. -Come, dear.

  • We've already missed five, if not six, trains.

  • To miss any more might expose us to comment on the platform.

  • Everything is quite ready for the christenings.

  • The christenings, sir?

  • Is not that somewhat premature?

  • But both of these gentlemen have expressed a desire...

  • for immediate baptism.

  • At their age? The idea is grotesque and irreligious.

  • Algy, I forbid you to be baptized.

  • I will not hear of such excesses.

  • I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr. Chasuble.

  • Yes, yes.

  • Miss Prism has asked me to tell you...

  • she's waiting for you in the vestry.

  • Indeed. I believe she's been waiting for some time.

  • Miss Prism in the vestry.

  • Waiting for you.

  • Yes.

  • Miss Prism?

  • Did I hear you mention a Miss Prism?

  • Yes, madame. I'm--

  • I'm on my--

  • -Bless you. -Yes, madame, I'm on my way...

  • to--to--to join her.

  • Is this Miss Prism a female of repellent aspect...

  • remotely connected with education?

  • She is the most cultivated of ladies...

  • and the picture of respectability.

  • It is obviously the same person.

  • Dr. Chasuble, take me to the vestry at once.

  • I've been expecting you, dear doctor.

  • Prism!

  • Prism.

  • Prism!

  • Where is that baby?

  • Thirty-four years ago. Prism...

  • you left Lord Bracknell's house...

  • Number 104. Upper Grosvenor Street...

  • in charge of a perambulator...

  • that contained a baby of the male sex.

  • You never returned.

  • A few weeks later, through the elaborate investigations...

  • of the metropolitan police...

  • the perambulator was discovered at midnight...

  • standing by itself in a remote corner of Bayswater.

  • It contained the manuscript of a three-volume novel...

  • of more than usually revolting sentimentality.

  • But the baby was not there.

  • Prism, where is that baby?

  • Lady Bracknell...

  • I admit with shame that I do not know.

  • The plain facts of the case are these--

  • on the morning of the day in question--

  • a day that is forever branded on my memory--

  • I prepared, as usual...

  • to take the baby out in its perambulator.

  • I had also with me a somewhat old, but capacious handbag...

  • in which I had intended to place the manuscript...

  • of a work of fiction that I had written...

  • during my few unoccupied hours.

  • In a moment of mental abstraction...

  • for which I never can forgive myself...

  • I deposited the manuscript in the bassinet...

  • and placed the baby in the handbag.

  • ...manuscript in the bassinet...

  • and placed the baby in the handbag.

  • But where did you deposit the handbag?

  • Do not ask me, Mr. Worthing.

  • Miss Prism. this is a matter of no small importance to me.

  • I insist on knowing where you deposited the handbag...

  • that contained that infant.

  • I left it in the cloakroom...

  • of one of the larger railway stations in London.

  • What railway station?

  • Victoria,

  • the Brighton line.

  • I--

  • Uncle Jack seems strangely agitated.

  • Is this the handbag, Miss Prism?

  • Examine it carefully before you speak.

  • The happiness of more than one life depends on your answer.

  • The bag is undoubtedly mine.

  • I am delighted to have it so unexpectedly restored to me.

  • It has been a great inconvenience...

  • being without it all these years.

  • Miss Prism, more is restored to you than this handbag.

  • I was the baby you placed in it.

  • -You? -Yes.

  • Mother!

  • Oh, Mr. Worthing. I am unmarried.

  • Unmarried?

  • I cannot deny that is a serious blow.

  • But after all, who has the right...

  • to cast a stone against one who has suffered?

  • Cannot repentance wipe out an act of folly?

  • -Mother, I forgive you! -No, Mr. Worthing!

  • There is some error.

  • There is the lady...

  • who can tell you who you really are.

  • Lady Bracknell, I hate to seem inquisitive...

  • but would you kindly inform me who I am?

  • You are the son of my poor sister Mrs. Moncrieff...

  • and consequently Algy's younger brother.

  • Algy's younger brother?

  • So...

  • I have a brother after all.

  • Yes.

  • I knew I had a brother!

  • I always said I had a brother. Huh.

  • Cecily, how could you ever have doubted that I had a brother?

  • Dr. Chasuble, my unfortunate brother.

  • How do you do?

  • Miss Prism, my unfortunate brother.

  • How do you do?

  • Gwendolen, my unfortunate brother.

  • How do you do?

  • Lady Bracknell, my--my brother.

  • -Algy! -Algy!

  • Oh!

  • Oh!

  • -So? -Oh!

  • Under these strange and unforeseen circumstances...

  • Mr. Moncrieff...

  • you may kiss your Aunt Augusta.

  • John!

  • Mr. Moncrieff.

  • After all that has occurred...

  • and any inconvenience I may have caused you...

  • in your infancy...

  • I feel it is my duty to resign my position in this household.

  • The suggestion is absurd. I won't hear of it.

  • Sir, it is my duty to leave.

  • I have really nothing more to teach dear Cecily.

  • In the very difficult accomplishment...

  • of getting married...

  • I fear my sweet and clever pupil...

  • has far outstripped her teacher.

  • No.

  • A moment, um, Miss Prism.

  • Dr. Chasuble.

  • I've come to the conclusion...

  • that the primitive church is in error...

  • on certain points on the question of matrimony.

  • Corrupt readings seem to have crept into the text.

  • In consequence. I--

  • I beg to solicit...

  • the honour of your hand.

  • Frederick.

  • Laetitia.

  • -My dear Cecily. -My dearest Algernon.

  • My own Gwendolen.

  • My own-- But wait! Who are you?

  • I mean, what is your Christian name, Mr. Moncrieff?

  • Now you have become someone else.

  • Good heavens, I'd quite forgotten that point.

  • The question had better be cleared up at once.

  • Aunt Augusta, a moment.

  • At the time when Miss Prism left me in the handbag...

  • had I been christened already?

  • Yes, I think you were christened after your father.

  • I see. Then what was my father's Christian name?

  • I cannot at the present moment recall...

  • what the general's name was. I have no doubt he had one.

  • Algy, can't you recollect what our father's Christian name was?

  • My dear fellow, we were hardly on speaking terms.

  • He died when I was only three.

  • His name would appear on the army lists...

  • of the period, I suppose, Aunt Augusta.

  • The general was essentially a man of peace...

  • except in his domestic life.

  • But no doubt his name would appear...

  • on any military directory.

  • The army lists of the last 40 years are here.

  • These delightful records should have been my constant study.

  • Lieutenants. captains...

  • colonels...

  • -Oh! -colonels...

  • generals.

  • "M."

  • "Maxbohm," "Magley"...

  • "Markby," "Migsby," "Mobbs," "Moncrieff."

  • "Lieutenant, 1860.

  • "Christian names..."

  • I always told you, Gwendolen...

  • that my name was Ernest, didn't I?

  • Well, it is Ernest after all.

  • I mean, it naturally is Ernest.

  • Ernest. My own Ernest.

  • I felt from the first that you could have no other name.

  • My nephew.

  • You seem to be displaying signs of triviality.

  • On the contrary, Aunt Augusta.

  • I've now realized for the first time in my life...

  • the vital importance of being earnest.

  • The western wind is blowing fair

  • Across the dark Aegean Sea

  • And at the secret marble stair

  • My Tyrian galley waits for thee

  • Come down, the purple sail is spread

  • The watchman sleeps within the town

  • Oh leave thy lily-flowered bed

  • Oh lady mine, come down

  • Come down

  • Lady, come down

  • Come down

  • Lady, come down

  • Oh lady, come down

  • She will not come. I know her well

  • Of lover's vows. she hath no care

  • And little good a man can tell

  • Of one so cruel and so fair

  • True love is but a woman's toy

  • They never know the lover's pain

  • And I who loved as loves a boy

  • Must love in vain

  • Must love in vain

  • Come down

  • Come down

  • Lady, come down

  • Come down

  • Come down

  • Lady, come down

  • I think your high notes...

  • may have damaged our chances, old boy.

  • You do want them to come down, don't you?

  • She's never going to come down...

  • if you're singing like that, you're completely out of tune.

  • -How dare you? -I'll take this.

  • You leave this to me, you go and have a lie down, old man.

  • No, I'll take this bit.

  • Out of my way, I'm coming through.

  • Go easy, my dear fellow.

  • Come do-o-o-own

  • Come down

  • Lady, come down

  • Overdoing it, less is more.

  • Come down

  • Come down

  • Lady, come down

  • That wasn't so bad, was it?

  • Maybe they're not going to come down.

  • Think we should go up? Maybe we should go up.

  • Algy, you're always talking nonsense.

  • Well, it's better than listening to it.

  • Lady, come down

  • Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?

  • I didn't think it polite to listen, sir.

  • Sub by masken, nov. 24th, 2002. Sync: The.Importance.of.Being.Earnest.LIMITED.DVDRip.XviD-DMT

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認真的重要性 - DVD (The Importance of Being Earnest - DVD)

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