认真的重要性 英文版 The Importance of Being Earnest
奥斯卡.王尔德 Oscar Wilde
SECOND ACT Page 2
MISS PRISM. We must not be premature in our judgments.
CECILY. I feel very happy. (They all go off except JACK andALGERNON. )
JACK. You young scoundrel, Algy, you must get out of this place assoon as possible. I don't allow any Bunburying here.
(Enter MERRIMAN. )
MERRIMAN. I have put Mr. Ernest's things in the room next toyours, sir. I suppose that is all right?
JACK. What?
MERRIMAN. Mr. Ernest's luggage, sir. I have unpacked it and putit in the room next to your own.
JACK. His luggage?
MERRIMAN. Yes, sir. Three portmanteaus, a dressing-case, two hat-boxes, and a large luncheon-basket.
ALGERNON. I am afraid I can't stay more than a week this time.
JACK. Merriman, order the dog-cart at once. Mr. Ernest has beensuddenly called back to town.
forthe last three months.
MERRIMAN. Yes, sir. (Goes back into the house. )
ALGERNON. What a fearful liar you are, Jack. I have not beencalled back to town at all.
JACK. Yes, you have.
cloth. A long pause?
ALGERNON. I haven't heard any one call me.
JACK. Your duty as a gentleman calls you back.
ALGERNON. My duty as a gentleman has never interfered with mypleasures in the smallest degree.
JACK. I can quite understand that.
ALGERNON. Well, Cecily is a darling.
JACK. You are not to talk of Miss Cardew like that. I don't likeit.
ALGERNON. Well, I don't like your clothes. You look perfectlyridiculous in them. Why on earth don't you go up and change? Itis perfectly childish to be in deep mourning for a man who isactually staying for a whole week with you in your house as aguest. I call it grotesque.
JACK. You are certainly not staying with me for a whole week as aguest or anything else. You have got to leave . . . by the four-five train.
ALGERNON. I certainly won't leave you so long as you are inmourning. It would be most unfriendly. If I were in mourning youwould stay with me, I suppose. I should think it very unkind ifyou didn't.
JACK. Well, will you go if I change my clothes?
ALGERNON. Yes, if you are not too long. I never saw anybody takeso long to dress, and with such little result.
JACK. Well, at any rate, that is better than being always over-dressed as you are.
ALGERNON. If I am occasionally a little over-dressed, I make upfor it by being always immensely over-educated.
JACK. Your vanity is ridiculous, your conduct an outrage, and yourpresence in my garden utterly absurd. However, you have got tocatch the four-five, and I hope you will have a pleasant journeyback to town. This Bunburying, as you call it, has not been agreat success for you.
(Goes into the house. )
ALGERNON. I think it has been a great success. I'm in love withCecily, and that is everything.
(Enter CECILY at the back of the garden. She picks up the can andbegins to water the flowers. ) But I must see her before I go, andmake arrangements for another Bunbury. Ah, there she is.
CECILY. Oh, I merely came back to water the roses. I thought youwere with Uncle Jack.
ALGERNON. He's gone to order the dog-cart for me.
CECILY. Oh, is he going to take you for a nice drive?
ALGERNON. He's going to send me away.
CECILY. Then have we got to part?
ALGERNON. I am afraid so. It's a very painful parting.
CECILY. It is always painful to part from people whom one hasknown for a very brief space of time. The absence of old friendsone can endure with equanimity. But even a momentary separationfrom anyone to whom one has just been introduced is almostunbearable.
ALGERNON. Thank you.
(Enter MERRIMAN. )
MERRIMAN. The dog-cart is at the door, sir. (ALGERNON looksappealingly at CECILY. )
GWENDOLEN. (Still standing.
CECILY. It can wait, Merriman for . . . five minutes.
MERRIMAN. Yes, Miss. (Exit MERRIMAN. )
ALGERNON. I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you if I state quitefrankly and openly that you seem to me to be in every way thevisible personification of absolute perfection.
CECILY. I think your frankness does you great credit, Ernest. Ifyou will allow me, I will copy your remarks into my diary. (Goesover to table and begins writing in diary. )
ALGERNON. Do you really keep a diary? I'd give anything to lookat it. May I?
CECILY. Oh no. (Puts her hand over it. ) You see, it is simply avery young girl's record of her own thoughts and impressions, andconsequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume formI hope you will order a copy. But pray, Ernest, don't stop. Idelight in taking down from dictation. I have reached 'absoluteperfection'. You can go on. I am quite ready for more.
ALGERNON. (Somewhat taken aback. ) Ahem! Ahem!
CECILY. Oh, don't cough, Ernest. When one is dictating one shouldspeak fluently and not cough. Besides, I don't know how to spell acough. (Writes as ALGERNON speaks. )
ALGERNON. (Speaking very rapidly. ) Cecily, ever since I firstlooked upon your wonderful and incomparable beauty, I have dared tolove you wildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly.
CECILY. I don't think that you should tell me that you love mewildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly. Hopelessly doesn'tseem to make much sense, does it?
ALGERNON. Cecily!
(Enter MERRIMAN. )
MERRIMAN. The dog-cart is waiting, sir.
ALGERNON. Tell it to come round next week, at the same hour.
MERRIMAN. (Looks at CECILY, who makes no sign. ) Yes, sir.
(MERRIMAN retires. )
CECILY. Uncle Jack would be very much annoyed if he knew you werestaying on till next week, at the same hour.
ALGERNON. Oh, I don't care about Jack. I don't care for anybodyin the whole world but you. I love you, Cecily. You will marryme, won't you?
curls naturally, doesit.
CECILY. You silly boy! Of course. Why, we have been engaged forthe last three months.
ALGERNON. For the last three months?
CECILY. Yes, it will be exactly three months on Thursday.
ALGERNON. But how did we become engaged?
CECILY. Well, ever since dear Uncle Jack first confessed to usthat he had a younger brother who was very wicked and bad, you ofcourse have formed the chief topic of conversation between myselfand Miss Prism. And of course a man who is much talked about isalways very attractive. One feels there must be something in him,after all. I daresay it was foolish of me, but I fell in love withyou, Ernest.
ALGERNON. Darling! And when was the engagement actually settled?
CECILY. On the 14th of February last. Worn out by your entireignorance of my existence, I determined to end the matter one wayor the other, and after a long struggle with myself I accepted youunder this dear old tree here. The next day I bought this littlering in your name, and this is the little bangle with the truelover's knot I promised you always to wear.
ALGERNON. Did I give you this? It's very pretty, isn't it?
CECILY. Yes, you've wonderfully good taste, Ernest. It's theexcuse I've always given for your leading such a bad life. Andthis is the box in which I keep all your dear letters. (Kneels attable, opens box, and produces letters tied up with blue ribbon. )
ALGERNON. My letters! But, my own sweet Cecily, I have neverwritten you any letters.
CECILY. You need hardly remind me of that, Ernest. I rememberonly too well that I was forced to write your letters for you. Iwrote always three times a week, and sometimes oftener.
CECILY. Oh, I couldn't possibly. They would make you far tooconceited. (Replaces box. ) The three you wrote me after I hadbroken of the engagement are so beautiful, and so badly spelled,that even now I can hardly read them without crying a little.
ALGERNON. But was our engagement ever broken off?
CECILY. Of course it was. On the 22nd of last March. You can seethe entry if you like. (Shows diary. ) 'To-day I broke off myengagement with Ernest. I feel it is better to do so. The weatherstill continues charming. '
ALGERNON. But why on earth did you break it of? What had I done?I had done nothing at all. Cecily, I am very much hurt indeed tohear you broke it off. Particularly when the weather was socharming.
CECILY. It would hardly have been a really serious engagement ifit hadn't been broken off at least once. But I forgave you beforethe week was out.
ALGERNON. (Crossing to her, and kneeling. ) What a perfect angelyou are, Cecily.
ALGERNON. I am afraid .
CECILY. You dear romantic boy. (He kisses her, she puts herfingers through his hair. ) I hope your hair curls naturally, doesit?
ALGERNON. Yes, darling, with a little help from others.
CECILY. I am so glad.
ALGERNON. You'll never break of our engagement again, Cecily?
CECILY. I don't think I could break it off now that I haveactually met you. Besides, of course, there is the question ofyour name.
ALGERNON. Yes, of course. (Nervously. )
CECILY. You must not laugh at me, darling, but it had always beena girlish dream of mine to love some one whose name was Ernest.(ALGERNON rises, CECILY also. ) There is something in that namethat seems to inspire absolute confidence. I pity any poor marriedwoman whose husband is not called Ernest.
ALGERNON. But, my dear child, do you mean to say you could notlove me if I had some other name?
CECILY. But what name?
ALGERNON. Oh, any name you like - Algernon - for instance . . .
CECILY. But I don't like the name of Algernon.
ALGERNON. Well, my own dear, sweet, loving little darling, Ireally can't see why you should object to the name of Algernon. Itis not at all a bad name. In fact, it is rather an aristocraticname. Half of the chaps who get into the Bankruptcy Court arecalled Algernon. But seriously, Cecily . . . (Moving to her) . . .if my name was Algy, couldn't you love me?
CECILY. (Rising. ) I might respect you, Ernest, I might admireyour character, but I fear that I should not be able to give you myundivided attention.
ALGERNON. Ahem! Cecily! (Picking up hat. ) Your Rector here is,I suppose, thoroughly experienced in the practice of all the ritesand ceremonials of the Church?
CECILY. Oh, yes. Dr. Chasuble is a most learned man. He hasnever written a single book, so you can imagine how much he knows.
ALGERNON. I must see him at once on a most important christening -I mean on most important business.
CECILY. Oh!
ALGERNON. I shan't be away more than half an hour.
CECILY. Considering that we have been engaged since February the14th, and that I only met you to-day for the first time, I think itis rather hard that you should leave me for so long a period ashalf an hour. Couldn't you make it twenty minutes?
ALGERNON. I'll be back in no time.
(Kisses her and rushes down the garden. )
CECILY. What an impetuous boy he is! I like his hair so much. Imust enter his proposal in my diary.
(Enter MERRIMAN. )
MERRIMAN. A Miss Fairfax has just called to see Mr. Worthing. Onvery important business, Miss Fairfax states.
CECILY. Isn't Mr. Worthing in his library?
MERRIMAN. Mr. Worthing went over in the direction of the Rectorysome time ago.
vicinity, MissCardew.
CECILY. Pray ask the lady to come out here; Mr. Worthing is sureto be back soon. And you can bring tea.
MERRIMAN. Yes, Miss. (Goes out. )
CECILY. Miss Fairfax! I suppose one of the many good elderlywomen who are associated with Uncle Jack in some of hisphilanthropic work in London. I don't quite like women who areinterested in philanthropic work. I think it is so forward ofthem.
(Enter MERRIMAN. )
MERRIMAN. Miss Fairfax.
(Enter GWENDOLEN. )
of Miss Cardew like that.
(Exit MERRIMAN. )
CECILY. (Advancing to meet her. ) Pray let me introduce myself toyou. My name is Cecily Cardew.
GWENDOLEN. Cecily Cardew? (Moving to her and shaking hands. )What a very sweet name! Something tells me that we are going to begreat friends. I like you already more than I can say. My firstimpressions of people are never wrong.
CECILY. How nice of you to like me so much after we have knowneach other such a comparatively short time. Pray sit down.
GWENDOLEN. (Still standing up. ) I may call you Cecily, may I not?
CECILY. With pleasure!
GWENDOLEN. And you will always call me Gwendolen, won't you?
CECILY. If you wish.
GWENDOLEN. Then that is all quite settled, is it not?
CECILY. I hope so. (A pause. They both sit down together. )
GWENDOLEN. Perhaps this might be a favourable opportunity for mymentioning who I am. My father is Lord Bracknell. You have neverheard of papa, I suppose?
CECILY. I don't think so.
GWENDOLEN. Outside the family circle, papa, I am glad to say, isentirely unknown. I think that is quite as it should be. The homeseems to me to be the proper sphere for the man. And certainlyonce a man begins to neglect his domestic duties he becomespainfully effeminate, does he not? And I don't like that. Itmakes men so very attractive. Cecily, mamma, whose views oneducation are remarkably strict, has brought me up to be extremelyshort-sighted; it is part of her system; so do you mind my lookingat you through my glasses?
CECILY. Oh! not at all, Gwendolen. I am very fond of being lookedat.
GWENDOLEN. (After examining CECILY carefully through a lorgnette. )You are here on a short visit, I suppose.
CECILY. Oh no! I live here.
GWENDOLEN. (Severely. ) Really? Your mother, no doubt, or somefemale relative of advanced years, resides here also?
CECILY. Oh no! I have no mother, nor, in fact, any relations.
GWENDOLEN. Indeed?
CECILY. My dear guardian, with the assistance of Miss Prism, hasthe arduous task of looking after me.
GWENDOLEN. Your guardian?
CECILY. Yes, I am Mr. Worthing's ward.
GWENDOLEN. Oh! It is strange he never mentioned to me that he hada ward. How secretive of him! He grows more interesting hourly.I am not sure, however, that the news inspires me with feelings ofunmixed delight. (Rising and going to her. ) I am very fond ofyou, Cecily; I have liked you ever since I met you! But I am boundto state that now that I know that you are Mr. Worthing's ward, Icannot help expressing a wish you were - well, just a little olderthan you seem to be - and not quite so very alluring in appearance.In fact, if I may speak candidly -
CECILY. Pray do! I think that whenever one has anythingunpleasant to say, one should always be quite candid.
GWENDOLEN. Well, to speak with perfect candour, Cecily, I wishthat you were fully forty-two, and more than usually plain for yourage. Ernest has a strong upright nature. He is the very soul oftruth and honour. Disloyalty would be as impossible to him asdeception. But even men of the noblest possible moral characterare extremely susceptible to the influence of the physical charmsof others. Modern, no less than Ancient History, supplies us withmany most painful examples of what I refer to. If it were not so,indeed, History would be quite unreadable.
CECILY. I beg your pardon, Gwendolen, did you say Ernest?
GWENDOLEN. Yes.
CECILY. Oh, but it is not Mr. Ernest Worthing who is my guardian.It is his brother - his elder brother.
GWENDOLEN. (Sitting down again. ) Ernest never mentioned to methat he had a brother.
CECILY. I am sorry to say they have not been on good terms for along time.
GWENDOLEN. Ah! that accounts for it. And now that I think of it Ihave never heard any man mention his brother. The subject seemsdistasteful to most men. Cecily, you have lifted a load from mymind. I was growing almost anxious. It would have been terribleif any cloud had come across a friendship like ours, would it not?Of course you are quite, quite sure that it is not Mr. ErnestWorthing who is your guardian?
CECILY. Quite sure. (A pause. ) In fact, I am going to be his.
GWENDOLEN. (Inquiringly. ) I beg your pardon?
CECILY. (Rather shy and confidingly. ) Dearest Gwendolen, there isno reason why I should make a secret of it to you. Our littlecounty newspaper is sure to chronicle the fact next week. Mr.Ernest Worthing and I are engaged to be married.
GWENDOLEN. (Quite politely, rising. ) My darling Cecily, I thinkthere must be some slight error. Mr. Ernest Worthing is engaged tome. The announcement will appear in the MORNING POST on Saturdayat the latest.
CECILY. (Very politely, rising. ) I am afraid you must be undersome misconception. Ernest proposed to me exactly ten minutes ago.(Shows diary. )
GWENDOLEN. (Examines diary through her lorgnettte carefully. ) Itis certainly very curious, for he asked me to be his wife yesterdayafternoon at 5. 30. If you would care to verify the incident, praydo so. (Produces diary of her own. ) I never travel without mydiary. One should always have something sensational to read in thetrain. I am so sorry, dear Cecily, if it is any disappointment toyou, but I am afraid I have the prior claim.
CECILY. It would distress me more than I can tell you, dearGwendolen, if it caused you any mental or physical anguish, but Ifeel bound to point out that since Ernest proposed to you heclearly has changed his mind.
GWENDOLEN. (Meditatively. ) If the poor fellow has been entrappedinto any foolish promise I shall consider it my duty to rescue himat once, and with a firm hand.
CECILY. (Thoughtfully and sadly. ) Whatever unfortunateentanglement my dear boy may have got into, I will never reproachhim with it after we are married.
GWENDOLEN. Do you allude to me, Miss Cardew, as an entanglement?You are presumptuous. On an occasion of this kind it becomes morethan a moral duty to speak one's mind. It becomes a pleasure.
CECILY. Do you suggest, Miss Fairfax, that I entrapped Ernest intoan engagement? How dare you? This is no time for wearing theshallow mask of manners. When I see a spade I call it a spade.
GWENDOLEN. (Satirically. ) I am glad to say that I have never seena spade. It is obvious that our social spheres have been widelydifferent.
(Enter MERRIMAN, followed by the footman. He carries a salver,table cloth, and plate stand. CECILY is about to retort. Thepresence of the servants exercises a restraining influence, underwhich both girls chafe. )
MERRIMAN. Shall I lay tea here as usual, Miss?
CECILY. (Sternly, in a calm voice. ) Yes, as usual. (MERRIMANbegins to clear table and lay cloth. A long pause. CECILY andGWENDOLEN glare at each other. )
GWENDOLEN. Are there many interesting walks in the vicinity, MissCardew?
CECILY. Oh! yes! a great many. From the top of one of the hillsquite close one can see five counties.
GWENDOLEN. Five counties! I don't think I should like that; Ihate crowds.
CECILY. (Sweetly. ) I suppose that is why you live in town?(GWENDOLEN bites her lip, and beats her foot nervously with herparasol. )
GWENDOLEN. (Looking round. ) Quite a well-kept garden this is,Miss Cardew.
CECILY. So glad you like it, Miss Fairfax.
GWENDOLEN. I had no idea there were any flowers in the country.
CECILY. Oh, flowers are as common here, Miss Fairfax, as peopleare in London.
GWENDOLEN. Personally I cannot understand how anybody manages toexist in the country, if anybody who is anybody does. The countryalways bores me to death.
CECILY. Ah! This is what the newspapers call agriculturaldepression, is it not? I believe the aristocracy are sufferingvery much from it just at present. It is almost an epidemicamongst them, I have been told. May I offer you some tea, MissFairfax?