Lady Windermere's Fan
LORD DARLINGTON. Well then, setting aside mercenary people, who, of
course, are dreadful, do you think seriously that women who have
committed what the world calls a fault should never be forgiven?
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Standing at table_.] I think they should never be
forgiven.
LORD DARLINGTON. And men? Do you think that there should be the same
laws for men as there are for women?
LADY WINDERMERE. Certainly!
LORD DARLINGTON. I think life too complex a thing to be settled by these
hard and fast rules.
LADY WINDERMERE. If we had ‘these hard and fast rules,’ we should find
life much more simple.
LORD DARLINGTON. You allow of no exceptions?
LADY WINDERMERE. None!
LORD DARLINGTON. Ah, what a fascinating Puritan you are, Lady
Windermere!
LADY WINDERMERE. The adjective was unnecessary, Lord Darlington.
LORD DARLINGTON. I couldn’t help it. I can resist everything except
temptation.
LADY WINDERMERE. You have the modern affectation of weakness.
LORD DARLINGTON. [_Looking at her_.] It’s only an affectation, Lady
Windermere.
[_Enter_ PARKER _C._]
PARKER. The Duchess of Berwick and Lady Agatha Carlisle.
[_Enter the_ DUCHESS OF BERWICK and LADY AGATHA CARLISLE _C._]
[_Exit_ PARKER _C._]
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. [_Coming down C._, _and shaking hands_.] Dear
Margaret, I am so pleased to see you. You remember Agatha, don’t you?
[_Crossing L.C._] How do you do, Lord Darlington? I won’t let you know
my daughter, you are far too wicked.
LORD DARLINGTON. Don’t say that, Duchess. As a wicked man I am a
complete failure. Why, there are lots of people who say I have never
really done anything wrong in the whole course of my life. Of course
they only say it behind my back.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Isn’t he dreadful? Agatha, this is Lord Darlington.
Mind you don’t believe a word he says. [LORD DARLINGTON _crosses R.C._]
No, no tea, thank you, dear. [_Crosses and sits on sofa_.] We have just
had tea at Lady Markby’s. Such bad tea, too. It was quite undrinkable.
I wasn’t at all surprised. Her own son-in-law supplies it. Agatha is
looking forward so much to your ball to-night, dear Margaret.
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Seated L.C._] Oh, you mustn’t think it is going to
be a ball, Duchess. It is only a dance in honour of my birthday. A
small and early.
LORD DARLINGTON. [_Standing L.C._] Very small, very early, and very
select, Duchess.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. [_On sofa L._] Of course it’s going to be select.
But we know _that_, dear Margaret, about _your_ house. It is really one
of the few houses in London where I can take Agatha, and where I feel
perfectly secure about dear Berwick. I don’t know what society is coming
to. The most dreadful people seem to go everywhere. They certainly come
to my parties—the men get quite furious if one doesn’t ask them. Really,
some one should make a stand against it.
LADY WINDERMERE. _I_ will, Duchess. I will have no one in my house
about whom there is any scandal.
LORD DARLINGTON. [_R.C._] Oh, don’t say that, Lady Windermere. I
should never be admitted! [_Sitting_.]
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Oh, men don’t matter. With women it is different.
We’re good. Some of us are, at least. But we are positively getting
elbowed into the corner. Our husbands would really forget our existence
if we didn’t nag at them from time to time, just to remind them that we
have a perfect legal right to do so.
LORD DARLINGTON. It’s a curious thing, Duchess, about the game of
marriage—a game, by the way, that is going out of fashion—the wives hold
all the honours, and invariably lose the odd trick.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. The odd trick? Is that the husband, Lord
Darlington?
LORD DARLINGTON. It would be rather a good name for the modern husband.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Dear Lord Darlington, how thoroughly depraved you
are!
LADY WINDERMERE. Lord Darlington is trivial.
LORD DARLINGTON. Ah, don’t say that, Lady Windermere.
LADY WINDERMERE. Why do you _talk_ so trivially about life, then?
LORD DARLINGTON. Because I think that life is far too important a thing
ever to talk seriously about it. [_Moves up C._]
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. What does he mean? Do, as a concession to my poor
wits, Lord Darlington, just explain to me what you really mean.
LORD DARLINGTON. [_Coming down back of table_.] I think I had better
not, Duchess. Nowadays to be intelligible is to be found out. Good-bye!
[_Shakes hands with_ DUCHESS.] And now—[_goes up stage_] Lady
Windermere, good-bye. I may come to-night, mayn’t I? Do let me come.
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Standing up stage with_ LORD DARLINGTON.] Yes,
certainly. But you are not to say foolish, insincere things to people.
LORD DARLINGTON. [_Smiling_.] Ah! you are beginning to reform me. It
is a dangerous thing to reform any one, Lady Windermere. [_Bows_, _and
exit C._]
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. [_Who has risen_, _goes C._] What a charming,
wicked creature! I like him so much. I’m quite delighted he’s gone!
How sweet you’re looking! Where _do_ you get your gowns? And now I must
tell you how sorry I am for you, dear Margaret. [_Crosses to sofa and
sits with_ LADY WINDERMERE.] Agatha, darling!
LADY AGATHA. Yes, mamma. [_Rises_.]
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Will you go and look over the photograph album that
I see there?
LADY AGATHA. Yes, mamma. [_Goes to table up L._]
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Dear girl! She is so fond of photographs of
Switzerland. Such a pure taste, I think. But I really am so sorry for
you, Margaret.
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Smiling_.] Why, Duchess?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Oh, on account of that horrid woman. She dresses so
well, too, which makes it much worse, sets such a dreadful example.
Augustus—you know my disreputable brother—such a trial to us all—well,
Augustus is completely infatuated about her. It is quite scandalous, for
she is absolutely inadmissible into society. Many a woman has a past,
but I am told that she has at least a dozen, and that they all fit.
LADY WINDERMERE. Whom are you talking about, Duchess?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. About Mrs. Erlynne.
LADY WINDERMERE. Mrs. Erlynne? I never heard of her, Duchess. And what
_has_ she to do with me?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. My poor child! Agatha, darling!
LADY AGATHA. Yes, mamma.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Will you go out on the terrace and look at the
sunset?
LADY AGATHA. Yes, mamma.
[_Exit through window_, _L._]
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Sweet girl! So devoted to sunsets! Shows such
refinement of feeling, does it not? After all, there is nothing like
Nature, is there?
LADY WINDERMERE. But what is it, Duchess? Why do you talk to me about
this person?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Don’t you really know? I assure you we’re all so
distressed about it. Only last night at dear Lady Jansen’s every one was
saying how extraordinary it was that, of all men in London, Windermere
should behave in such a way.
LADY WINDERMERE. My husband—what has _he_ got to do with any woman of
that kind?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Ah, what indeed, dear? That is the point. He goes
to see her continually, and stops for hours at a time, and while he is
there she is not at home to any one. Not that many ladies call on her,
dear, but she has a great many disreputable men friends—my own brother
particularly, as I told you—and that is what makes it so dreadful about
Windermere. We looked upon _him_ as being such a model husband, but I am
afraid there is no doubt about it. My dear nieces—you know the Saville
girls, don’t you?—such nice domestic creatures—plain, dreadfully plain,
but so good—well, they’re always at the window doing fancy work, and
making ugly things for the poor, which I think so useful of them in these
dreadful socialistic days, and this terrible woman has taken a house in
Curzon Street, right opposite them—such a respectable street, too! I
don’t know what we’re coming to! And they tell me that Windermere goes
there four and five times a week—they _see_ him. They can’t help it—and
although they never talk scandal, they—well, of course—they remark on it
to every one. And the worst of it all is that I have been told that this
woman has got a great deal of money out of somebody, for it seems that
she came to London six months ago without anything at all to speak of,
and now she has this charming house in Mayfair, drives her ponies in the
Park every afternoon and all—well, all—since she has known poor dear
Windermere.
LADY WINDERMERE. Oh, I can’t believe it!
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. But it’s quite true, my dear. The whole of London
knows it. That is why I felt it was better to come and talk to you, and
advise you to take Windermere away at once to Homburg or to Aix, where
he’ll have something to amuse him, and where you can watch him all day
long. I assure you, my dear, that on several occasions after I was first
married, I had to pretend to be very ill, and was obliged to drink the
most unpleasant mineral waters, merely to get Berwick out of town. He
was so extremely susceptible. Though I am bound to say he never gave
away any large sums of money to anybody. He is far too high-principled
for that!
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Interrupting_.] Duchess, Duchess, it’s impossible!
[_Rising and crossing stage to C._] We are only married two years. Our
child is but six months old. [_Sits in chair R. of L. table_.]
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Ah, the dear pretty baby! How is the little
darling? Is it a boy or a girl? I hope a girl—Ah, no, I remember it’s a
boy! I’m so sorry. Boys are so wicked. My boy is excessively immoral.
You wouldn’t believe at what hours he comes home. And he’s only left
Oxford a few months—I really don’t know what they teach them there.
LADY WINDERMERE. Are _all_ men bad?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Oh, all of them, my dear, all of them, without any
exception. And they never grow any better. Men become old, but they
never become good.
LADY WINDERMERE. Windermere and I married for love.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Yes, we begin like that. It was only Berwick’s
brutal and incessant threats of suicide that made me accept him at all,
and before the year was out, he was running after all kinds of
petticoats, every colour, every shape, every material. In fact, before
the honeymoon was over, I caught him winking at my maid, a most pretty,
respectable girl. I dismissed her at once without a character.—No, I
remember I passed her on to my sister; poor dear Sir George is so
short-sighted, I thought it wouldn’t matter. But it did, though—it was
most unfortunate. [_Rises_.] And now, my dear child, I must go, as we
are dining out. And mind you don’t take this little aberration of
Windermere’s too much to heart. Just take him abroad, and he’ll come
back to you all right.
LADY WINDERMERE. Come back to me? [_C._]
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. [_L.C._] Yes, dear, these wicked women get our
husbands away from us, but they always come back, slightly damaged, of
course. And don’t make scenes, men hate them!
LADY WINDERMERE. It is very kind of you, Duchess, to come and tell me
all this. But I can’t believe that my husband is untrue to me.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Pretty child! I was like that once. Now I know
that all men are monsters. [LADY WINDERMERE _rings bell_.] The only
thing to do is to feed the wretches well. A good cook does wonders, and
that I know you have. My dear Margaret, you are not going to cry?
LADY WINDERMERE. You needn’t be afraid, Duchess, I never cry.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. That’s quite right, dear. Crying is the refuge of
plain women but the ruin of pretty ones. Agatha, darling!