认真的重要性 英文版 The Importance of Being Earnest
奥斯卡.王尔德 Oscar Wilde
FIRST ACT Page 1
SCENE
Morning-room in Algernon's flat in Half-Moon Street. The room isluxuriously and artistically furnished. The sound of a piano isheard in the adjoining room.
(LANE is arranging afternoon tea on the table, and after the musichas ceased, ALGERNON enters. )
ALGERNON. Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?
LANE. I didn't think it polite to listen, sir.
ALGERNON. I'm sorry for that, for your sake. I don't playaccurately - any one can play accurately - but I play withwonderful expression. As far as the piano is concerned, sentimentis my forte. I keep science for Life.
LANE. Yes, sir.
ALGERNON. And, speaking of the science of Life, have you got thecucumber sandwiches cut for Lady Bracknell?
LANE. Yes, sir. (Hands them on a salver. )
ALGERNON. (Inspects them, takes two, and sits down on the sofa. )Oh! . . . by the way, Lane, I see from your book that on Thursdaynight, when Lord Shoreman and Mr. Worthing were dining with me,eight bottles of champagne are entered as having been consumed.
LANE. Yes, sir; eight bottles and a pint.
, made me inhis .
ALGERNON. Why is it that at a bachelor's establishment theservants invariably drink the champagne? I ask merely forinformation.
LANE. I attribute it to the superior quality of the wine, sir. Ihave often observed that in married households the champagne israrely of a first-rate brand.
ALGERNON. Good heavens! Is marriage so demoralising as that?
LANE. I believe it IS a very pleasant state, sir. I have had verylittle experience of it myself up to the present. I have only beenmarried once. That was in consequence of a misunderstandingbetween myself and a young person.
ALGERNON. (Languidly. ) I don't know that I am much interested inyour family life, Lane.
LANE. No, sir; it is not a very interesting subject. I neverthink of it myself.
ALGERNON. Very natural, I am sure. That will do, Lane, thank you.
LANE. Thank you, sir. (LANE goes out. )
ALGERNON. Lanes views on marriage seem somewhat lax. Really, ifthe lower orders don't set us a good example, what on earth is theuse of them? They seem, as a class, to have absolutely no sense ofmoral responsibility.
(Enter LANE. )
LANE. Mr. Ernest Worthing.
(Enter JACK. )
(LANE goes out. )
ALGERNON. How are you, my dear Ernest? What brings you up totown?
JACK. Oh, pleasure, pleasure! What else should bring oneanywhere? Eating as usual, I see, Algy!
ALGERNON. (Stiffly. ) I believe it is customary in good society totake some slight refreshment at five o'clock. Where have you beensince last Thursday?
JACK. (Sitting down on the sofa. ) In the country.
ALGERNON. What on earth do you do there?
JACK. (Pulling off his gloves. ) When one is in town one amusesoneself. When one is in the country one amuses other people. Itis excessively boring.
ALGERNON. And who are the people you amuse?
JACK. (Airily. ) Oh, neighbours, neighbours.
ALGERNON. Got nice neighbours in your part of Shropshire?
JACK. Perfectly horrid! Never speak to one of them.
ALGERNON. How immensely you must amuse them! (Goes over and takessandwich. ) By the way, Shropshire is your county, is it not?
JACK. Eh? Shropshire? Yes, of course. Hallo! Why all thesecups? Why cucumber sandwiches? Why such reckless extravagance inone so young? Who is coming to tea?
ALGERNON. Oh! merely Aunt Augusta and Gwendolen.
JACK. How perfectly delightful!
ALGERNON. Yes, that is all very well; but I am afraid Aunt Augustawon't quite approve of your being here.
JACK. May I ask why?
ALGERNON. No cucumbers!Good heavens.
ALGERNON. My dear fellow, the way you flirt with Gwendolen isperfectly disgraceful. It is almost as bad as the way Gwendolenflirts with you.
JACK. I am in love with Gwendolen. I have come up to townexpressly to propose to her.
ALGERNON. I thought you had come up for pleasure? . . . I callthat business.
JACK. How utterly unromantic you are!
ALGERNON. I really don't see anything romantic in proposing. Itis very romantic to be in love. But there is nothing romanticabout a definite proposal. Why, one may be accepted. One usuallyis, I believe. Then the excitement is all over. The very essenceof romance is uncertainty. If ever I get married, I'll certainlytry to forget the fact.
JACK. I have no doubt about that, dear Algy. The Divorce Courtwas specially invented for people whose memories are so curiouslyconstituted.
ALGERNON. Oh! there is no use speculating on that subject.Divorces are made in Heaven - (JACK puts out his hand to take asandwich. ALGERNON at once interferes. ) Please don't touch thecucumber sandwiches. They are ordered specially for Aunt Augusta.(Takes one and eats it. )
JACK. Well, you have been eating them all the time.
ALGERNON. That is quite a different matter. She is my aunt.(Takes plate from below. ) Have some bread and butter. The breadand butter is for Gwendolen. Gwendolen is devoted to bread andbutter.
JACK. (Advancing to table and helping himself. ) And very goodbread and butter it is too.
ALGERNON. Well, my dear fellow, you need not eat as if you weregoing to eat it all. You behave as if you were married to heralready. You are not married to her already, and I don't think youever will be.
JACK. Why on earth do you say that?
ALGERNON. Well, in the first place girls never marry the men theyflirt with. Girls don't think it right.
JACK. Oh, that is nonsense!
ALGERNON. It isn't. It is a great truth. It accounts for theextraordinary number of bachelors that one sees all over the place.In the second place, I don't give my consent.
JACK. Your consent!
ALGERNON. My dear fellow, Gwendolen is my first cousin. Andbefore I allow you to marry her, you will have to clear up thewhole question of Cecily. (Rings bell. )
JACK. Cecily! What on earth do you mean? What do you mean, Algy,by Cecily! I don't know any one of the name of Cecily.
(Enter LANE. )
ALGERNON. Bring me that cigarette case Mr. Worthing left in thesmoking-room the last time he dined here.
LANE. Yes, sir. (LANE goes out. )
JACK. Do you mean to say you have had my cigarette case all thistime? I wish to goodness you had let me know. I have been writingfrantic letters to Scotland Yard about it. I was very nearlyoffering a large reward.
ALGERNON. Well, I wish you would offer one. I happen to be morethan usually hard up.
JACK. There is no good offering a large reward now that the thingis found.
(Enter LANE with the cigarette case on a salver. ALGERNON takes itat once. LANE goes out. )
ALGERNON. I think that is rather mean of you, Ernest, I must say.(Opens case and examines it. ) However, it makes no matter, for,now that I look at the inscription inside, I find that the thingisn't yours after all.
JACK. Of course it's mine. (Moving to him. ) You have seen mewith it a hundred times, and you have no right whatsoever to readwhat is written inside. It is a very ungentlemanly thing to read aprivate cigarette case.
ALGERNON. Oh! it is absurd to have a hard and fast rule about whatone should read and what one shouldn't. More than half of modernculture depends on what one shouldn't read.
JACK. I am quite aware of the fact, and I don't propose to discussmodern culture. It isn't the sort of thing one should talk of inprivate. I simply want my cigarette case back.
ALGERNON. Yes; but this isn't your cigarette case. This cigarettecase is a present from some one of the name of Cecily, and you saidyou didn't know any one of that name.
JACK. Well, if you want to know, Cecily happens to be my aunt.
ALGERNON. Your aunt!
JACK. Yes. Charming old lady she is, too. Lives at TunbridgeWells. Just give it back to me, Algy.
ALGERNON. (Retreating to back of sofa. ) But why does she callherself little Cecily if she is your aunt and lives at TunbridgeWells? (Reading. ) 'From little Cecily with her fondest love. '
JACK. (Moving to sofa and kneeling upon it. ) My dear fellow, whaton earth is there in that? Some aunts are tall, some aunts are nottall. That is a matter that surely an aunt may be allowed todecide for herself. You seem to think that every aunt should beexactly like your aunt! That is absurd! For Heaven's sake give meback my cigarette case. (Follows ALGERNON round the room. )
ALGERNON. Yes. But why does your aunt call you her uncle? 'Fromlittle Cecily, with her fondest love to her dear Uncle Jack. 'There is no objection, I admit, to an aunt being a small aunt, butwhy an aunt, no matter what her size may be, should call her ownnephew her uncle, I can't quite make out. Besides, your name isn'tJack at all; it is Ernest.
JACK. It isn't Ernest; it's Jack.
ALGERNON. You have always told me it was Ernest. I haveintroduced you to every one as Ernest. You answer to the name ofErnest. You look as if your name was Ernest. You are the mostearnest-looking person I ever saw in my life. It is perfectlyabsurd your saying that your name isn't Ernest. It's on yourcards. Here is one of them. (Taking it from case. ) 'Mr. ErnestWorthing, B. 4, The Albany. ' I'll keep this as a proof that yourname is Ernest if ever you attempt to deny it to me, or toGwendolen, or to any one else. (Puts the card in his pocket. )
JACK. Well, my name is Ernest in town and Jack in the country, andthe cigarette case was given to me in the country.
ALGERNON. Yes, but that does not account for the fact that yoursmall Aunt Cecily, who lives at Tunbridge Wells, calls you her dearuncle. Come, old boy, you had much better have the thing out atonce.
JACK. My dear Algy, you talk exactly as if you were a dentist. Itis very vulgar to talk like a dentist when one isn't a dentist. Itproduces a false impression,
ALGERNON. Well, that is exactly what dentists always do. Now, goon! Tell me the whole thing. I may mention that I have alwayssuspected you of being a confirmed and secret Bunburyist; and I amquite sure of it now.
JACK. Bunburyist? What on earth do you mean by a Bunburyist?
ALGERNON. I'll reveal to you the meaning of that incomparableexpression as soon as you are kind enough to inform me why you areErnest in town and Jack in the country.
JACK. Well, produce my cigarette case first.
ALGERNON. Here it is. (Hands cigarette case. ) Now produce yourexplanation, and pray make it improbable. (Sits on sofa. )
JACK. My dear fellow, there is nothing improbable about myexplanation at all. In fact it's perfectly ordinary. Old Mr.Thomas Cardew, who adopted me when I was a little boy, made me inhis will guardian to his grand-daughter, Miss Cecily Cardew.Cecily, who addresses me as her uncle from motives of respect thatyou could not possibly appreciate, lives at my place in the countryunder the charge of her admirable governess, Miss Prism.
ALGERNON. Where in that place in the country, by the way?
JACK. That is nothing to you, dear boy. You are not going to beinvited . . . I may tell you candidly that the place is not inShropshire.
ALGERNON. I suspected that, my dear fellow! I have Bunburyed allover Shropshire on two separate occasions. Now, go on. Why areyou Ernest in town and Jack in the country?
JACK. My dear Algy, I don't know whether you will be able tounderstand my real motives. You are hardly serious enough. Whenone is placed in the position of guardian, one has to adopt a veryhigh moral tone on all subjects. It's one's duty to do so. And asa high moral tone can hardly be said to conduce very much to eitherone's health or one's happiness, in order to get up to town I havealways pretended to have a younger brother of the name of Ernest,who lives in the Albany, and gets into the most dreadful scrapes.That, my dear Algy, is the whole truth pure and simple.
ALGERNON. The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern lifewould be very tedious if it were either, and modern literature acomplete impossibility!
JACK. That wouldn't be at all a bad thing.
ALGERNON. Literary criticism is not your forte, my dear fellow.Don't try it. You should leave that to people who haven't been ata University. They do it so well in the daily papers. What youreally are is a Bunburyist. I was quite right in saying you were aBunburyist. You are one of the most advanced Bunburyists I know.
JACK. What on earth do you mean?
ALGERNON. You have invented a very useful younger brother calledErnest, in order that you may be able to come up to town as oftenas you like. I have invented an invaluable permanent invalidcalled Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into thecountry whenever I choose. Bunbury is perfectly invaluable. If itwasn't for Bunbury's extraordinary bad health, for instance, Iwouldn't be able to dine with you at Willis's to-night, for I havebeen really engaged to Aunt Augusta for more than a week.
JACK. I haven't asked you to dine with me anywhere to-night.
ALGERNON. I know. You are absurdly careless about sending outinvitations. It is very foolish of you. Nothing annoys people somuch as not receiving invitations.
JACK. You had much better dine with your Aunt Augusta.
ALGERNON. I haven't the smallest intention of doing anything ofthe kind. To begin with, I dined there on Monday, and once a weekis quite enough to dine with one's own relations. In the secondplace, whenever I do dine there I am always treated as a member ofthe family, and sent down with either no woman at all, or two. Inthe third place, I know perfectly well whom she will place me nextto, to-night. She will place me next Mary Farquhar, who alwaysflirts with her own husband across the dinner-table. That is notvery pleasant. Indeed, it is not even decent . . . and that sortof thing is enormously on the increase. The amount of women inLondon who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous.It looks so bad. It in simply washing one's clean linen in public.Besides, now that I know you to be a confirmed Bunburyist Inaturally want to talk to you about Bunburying. I want to tell youthe rules.
JACK. I'm not a Bunburyist at all. If Gwendolen accepts me, I amgoing to kill my brother, indeed I think I'll kill him in any case.Cecily is a little too much interested in him. It is rather abore. So I am going to get rid of Ernest. And I strongly adviseyou to do the same with Mr . . . with your invalid friend who hasthe absurd name.
ALGERNON. Nothing will induce me to part with Bunbury, and if youever get married, which seems to me extremely problematic, you willbe very glad to know Bunbury. A man who marries without knowingBunbury has a very tedious time of it.
JACK. That is nonsense. If I marry a charming girl likeGwendolen, and she is the only girl I ever saw in my life that Iwould marry, I certainly won't want to know Bunbury.
ALGERNON. Then your wife will. You don't seem to realise, that inmarried life three is company and two is none.
JACK. (Sententiously. ) That, my dear young friend, is the theorythat the corrupt French Drama has been propounding for the lastfifty years.
ALGERNON. Yes; and that the happy English home has proved in halfthe time.
JACK. For heaven's sake, don't try to be cynical. It's perfectlyeasy to be cynical.
ALGERNON. My dear fellow, it isn't easy to be anything nowadays.There's such a lot of beastly competition about. (The sound of anelectric bell is heard. ) Ah! that must be Aunt Augusta. Onlyrelatives, or creditors, ever ring in that Wagnerian manner. Now,if I get her out of the way for ten minutes, so that you can havean opportunity for proposing to Gwendolen, may I dine with you to-night at Willis's?
JACK. I suppose so, if you want to.
about there beingno cucumbers, not.
ALGERNON. Yes, but you must be serious about it. I hate peoplewho 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 andGWENDOLEN. )
I am sure. That will do!
LADY BRACKNELL. Good afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope you arebehaving very well.
ALGERNON. I'm feeling very well, Aunt Augusta.
LADY BRACKNELL. That's not quite the same thing. In fact the twothings rarely go together. (Sees JACK and bows to him with icycoldness. )
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 fordevelopments, 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 Iwas obliged to call on dear Lady Harbury. I hadn't been theresince 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 oftea, 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 themspecially.
LANE. (Gravely. ) There were no cucumbers in the market thismorning, 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 beingno cucumbers, not even for ready money.
LADY BRACKNELL. It really makes no matter, Algernon. I had somecrumpets with Lady Harbury, who seems to me to be living entirelyfor pleasure now.
ALGERNON. I hear her hair has turned quite gold from grief.
LADY BRACKNELL. It certainly has changed its colour. From whatcause I, of course, cannot say. (ALGERNON crosses and hands tea. )Thank you. I've quite a treat for you to-night, Algernon. I amgoing to send you down with Mary Farquhar. She is such a nicewoman, and so attentive to her husband. It's delightful to watchthem.
ALGERNON. I am afraid, Aunt Augusta, I shall have to give up thepleasure of dining with you to-night after all.
LADY BRACKNELL. (Frowning. ) I hope not, Algernon. It would putmy 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 terribledisappointment to me, but the fact is I have just had a telegram tosay that my poor friend Bunbury is very ill again. (Exchangesglances with JACK. ) They seem to think I should be with him.
LADY BRACKNELL. It is very strange. This Mr. Bunbury seems tosuffer from curiously bad health.
ALGERNON. Yes; poor Bunbury is a dreadful invalid.
LADY BRACKNELL. Well, I must say, Algernon, that I think it ishigh time that Mr. Bunbury made up his mind whether he was going tolive 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 beencouraged in others. Health is the primary duty of life. I amalways telling that to your poor uncle, but he never seems to takemuch notice . . . as far as any improvement in his ailment goes. Ishould be much obliged if you would ask Mr. Bunbury, from me, to bekind enough not to have a relapse on Saturday, for I rely on you toarrange my music for me. It is my last reception, and one wantssomething that will encourage conversation, particularly at the endof the season when every one has practically said whatever they hadto say, which, in most cases, was probably not much.