The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde: 250+ Titles in One Edition. Оскар Уайльд

the future a more trivial buttonhole, Phipps, on Thursday evenings.

      PHIPPS. I will speak to the florist, my lord. She has had a loss in her family lately, which perhaps accounts for the lack of triviality your lordship complains of in the buttonhole.

      LORD GORING. Extraordinary thing about the lower classes in England — they are always losing their relations.

      PHIPPS. Yes, my lord! They are extremely fortunate in that respect.

      LORD GORING. [Turns round and looks at him. PHIPPS remains impassive.] Hum! Any letters, Phipps?

      PHIPPS. Three, my lord. [Hands letters on a salver.]

      LORD GORING. [Takes letters.] Want my cab round in twenty minutes.

      PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [Goes towards door.]

      LORD GORING. [Holds up letter in pink envelope.] Ahem! Phipps, when did this letter arrive?

      PHIPPS. It was brought by hand just after your lordship went to the club.

      LORD GORING. That will do. [Exit PHIPPS.] Lady Chiltern’s handwriting on Lady Chiltern’s pink notepaper. That is rather curious. I thought Robert was to write. Wonder what Lady Chiltern has got to say to me? [Sits at bureau and opens letter, and reads it.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’ [Puts down the letter with a puzzled look. Then takes it up, and reads it again slowly.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you.’ So she has found out everything! Poor woman! Poor woman! [ Pulls out watch and looks at it.] But what an hour to call! Ten o’clock! I shall have to give up going to the Berkshires. However, it is always nice to be expected, and not to arrive. I am not expected at the Bachelors’, so I shall certainly go there. Well, I will make her stand by her husband. That is the only thing for her to do. That is the only thing for any woman to do. It is the growth of the moral sense in women that makes marriage such a hopeless, onesided institution. Ten o’clock. She should be here soon. I must tell Phipps I am not in to any one else. [Goes towards bell]

      [Enter PHIPPS.]

      PHIPPS. Lord Caversham.

      LORD GORING. Oh, why will parents always appear at the wrong time? Some extraordinary mistake in nature, I suppose. [Enter LORD CAVERSHAM.] Delighted to see you, my dear father. [Goes to meet him.]

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Take my cloak off.

      LORD GORING. Is it worth while, father?

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Of course it is worth while, sir. Which is the most comfortable chair?

      LORD GORING. This one, father. It is the chair I use myself, when I have visitors.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Thank ye. No draught, I hope, in this room?

      LORD GORING. No, father.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. [Sitting down.] Glad to hear it. Can’t stand draughts. No draughts at home.

      LORD GORING. Good many breezes, father.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Eh? Eh? Don’t understand what you mean. Want to have a serious conversation with you, sir.

      LORD GORING. My dear father! At this hour?

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, it is only ten o’clock. What is your objection to the hour? I think the hour is an admirable hour!

      LORD GORING. Well, the fact is, father, this is not my day for talking seriously. I am very sorry, but it is not my day.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. What do you mean, sir?

      LORD GORING. During the Season, father, I only talk seriously on the first Tuesday in every month, from four to seven.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, make it Tuesday, sir, make it Tuesday.

      LORD GORING. But it is after seven, father, and my doctor says I must not have any serious conversation after seven. It makes me talk in my sleep.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Talk in your sleep, sir? What does that matter? You are not married.

      LORD GORING. No, father, I am not married.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Hum! That is what I have come to talk to you about, sir. You have got to get married, and at once. Why, when I was your age, sir, I had been an inconsolable widower for three months, and was already paying my addresses to your admirable mother. Damme, sir, it is your duty to get married. You can’t be always living for pleasure. Every man of position is married nowadays. Bachelors are not fashionable any more. They are a damaged lot. Too much is known about them. You must get a wife, sir. Look where your friend Robert Chiltern has got to by probity, hard work, and a sensible marriage with a good woman. Why don’t you imitate him, sir? Why don’t you take him for your model?

      LORD GORING. I think I shall, father.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would, sir. Then I should be happy. At present I make your mother’s life miserable on your account. You are heartless, sir, quite heartless.

      LORD GORING. I hope not, father.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. And it is high time for you to get married. You are thirty-four years of age, sir.

      LORD GORING. Yes, father, but I only admit to thirty-two — thirty-one and a half when I have a really good buttonhole. This buttonhole is not … trivial enough.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. I tell you you are thirty-four, sir. And there is a draught in your room, besides, which makes your conduct worse. Why did you tell me there was no draught, sir? I feel a draught, sir, I feel it distinctly.

      LORD GORING. So do I, father. It is a dreadful draught. I will come and see you tomorrow, father. We can talk over anything you like. Let me help you on with your cloak, father.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. No, sir; I have called this evening for a definite purpose, and I am going to see it through at all costs to my health or yours. Put down my cloak, sir.

      LORD GORING. Certainly, father. But let us go into another room. [Rings bell.] There is a dreadful draught here. [Enter PHIPPS.] Phipps, is there a good fire in the smoking-room?

      PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

      LORD GORING. Come in there, father. Your sneezes are quite heartrending.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, I suppose I have a right to sneeze when I choose?

      LORD GORING. [Apologetically.] Quite so, father. I was merely expressing sympathy.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. Oh, damn sympathy. There is a great deal too much of that sort of thing going on nowadays.

      LORD GORING. I quite agree with you, father. If there was less sympathy in the world there would be less trouble in the world.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. [Going towards the smoking-room.] That is a paradox, sir. I hate paradoxes.

      LORD GORING. So do I, father. Everybody one meets is a paradox nowadays. It is a great bore. It makes society so obvious.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. [Turning round, and looking at his son beneath his bushy eyebrows.] Do you always really understand what you say, sir?

      LORD GORING. [After some hesitation.] Yes, father, if I listen attentively.

      LORD CAVERSHAM. [Indignantly.] If you listen attentively! … Conceited young puppy!

      [Goes off grumbling into the smoking-room. PHIPPS enters.]

      LORD GORING. Phipps, there is a lady coming to see me this evening on particular business. Show her into the drawing-room when she arrives. You understand?

      PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

      LORD GORING. It is a matter of the gravest importance, Phipps.

      PHIPPS. I understand, my lord.

      LORD GORING. No one else is to be admitted, under any circumstances.

      PHIPPS. I understand, my lord. [Bell rings.]

      LORD GORING. Ah! that is probably the lady. I shall see her myself.

      [Just as he is going towards the door