The Importance of Being Earnest: A Trivial Comedy for Serious People Page #3

								

absurd! For Heaven’s sake give me back my cigarette case. [Follows
Algernon round the room.]

ALGERNON.
Yes. But why does your aunt call you her uncle? ‘From little Cecily,
with her fondest love to her dear Uncle Jack.’ 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 is Ernest.

JACK.
It isn’t Ernest; it’s Jack.

ALGERNON.
You have always told me it was Ernest. I have introduced you to every
one as Ernest. You answer to the name of Ernest. You look as if your
name was Ernest. You are the most earnest-looking person I ever saw in
my life. It is perfectly absurd your saying that your name isn’t
Ernest. It’s on your cards. Here is one of them. [Taking it from case.]
‘Mr. Ernest Worthing, B. 4, The Albany.’ I’ll keep this as a proof that
your name is Ernest if ever you attempt to deny it to me, or to
Gwendolen, or to any one else. [Puts the card in his pocket.]

JACK.
Well, my name is Ernest in town and Jack in the country, and the
cigarette case was given to me in the country.

ALGERNON.
Yes, but that does not account for the fact that your small Aunt
Cecily, who lives at Tunbridge Wells, calls you her dear uncle. Come,
old boy, you had much better have the thing out at once.

JACK.
My dear Algy, you talk exactly as if you were a dentist. It is very
vulgar to talk like a dentist when one isn’t a dentist. It produces a
false impression.

ALGERNON.
Well, that is exactly what dentists always do. Now, go on! Tell me the
whole thing. I may mention that I have always suspected you of being a
confirmed and secret Bunburyist; and I am quite 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 incomparable expression as soon
as you are kind enough to inform me why you are Ernest in town and Jack
in the country.

JACK.
Well, produce my cigarette case first.

ALGERNON.
Here it is. [Hands cigarette case.] Now produce your explanation, and
pray make it improbable. [Sits on sofa.]

JACK.
My dear fellow, there is nothing improbable about my explanation at
all. In fact it’s perfectly ordinary. Old Mr. Thomas Cardew, who
adopted me when I was a little boy, made me in his will guardian to his
grand-daughter, Miss Cecily Cardew. Cecily, who addresses me as her
uncle from motives of respect that you could not possibly appreciate,
lives at my place in the country under the charge of her admirable
governess, Miss Prism.

ALGERNON.
Where is that place in the country, by the way?

JACK.
That is nothing to you, dear boy. You are not going to be invited . . .
I may tell you candidly that the place is not in Shropshire.

ALGERNON.
I suspected that, my dear fellow! I have Bunburyed all over Shropshire
on two separate occasions. Now, go on. Why are you Ernest in town and
Jack in the country?

JACK.
My dear Algy, I don’t know whether you will be able to understand my
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