Lady Windermere's Fan
CECIL GRAHAM. [_Puts his hands on his shoulders_.] Now, Tuppy, you’ve
lost your figure and you’ve lost your character. Don’t lose your temper;
you have only got one.
LORD AUGUSTUS. My dear boy, if I wasn’t the most good-natured man in
London—
CECIL GRAHAM. We’d treat you with more respect, wouldn’t we, Tuppy?
[_Strolls away_.]
DUMBY. The youth of the present day are quite monstrous. They have
absolutely no respect for dyed hair. [LORD AUGUSTUS _looks round
angrily_.]
CECIL GRAHAM. Mrs. Erlynne has a very great respect for dear Tuppy.
DUMBY. Then Mrs. Erlynne sets an admirable example to the rest of her
sex. It is perfectly brutal the way most women nowadays behave to men
who are not their husbands.
LORD WINDERMERE. Dumby, you are ridiculous, and Cecil, you let your
tongue run away with you. You must leave Mrs. Erlynne alone. You don’t
really know anything about her, and you’re always talking scandal against
her.
CECIL GRAHAM. [_Coming towards him L.C._] My dear Arthur, I never talk
scandal. _I_ only talk gossip.
LORD WINDERMERE. What is the difference between scandal and gossip?
CECIL GRAHAM. Oh! gossip is charming! History is merely gossip. But
scandal is gossip made tedious by morality. Now, I never moralise. A
man who moralises is usually a hypocrite, and a woman who moralises is
invariably plain. There is nothing in the whole world so unbecoming to a
woman as a Nonconformist conscience. And most women know it, I’m glad to
say.
LORD AUGUSTUS. Just my sentiments, dear boy, just my sentiments.
CECIL GRAHAM. Sorry to hear it, Tuppy; whenever people agree with me, I
always feel I must be wrong.
LORD AUGUSTUS. My dear boy, when I was your age—
CECIL GRAHAM. But you never were, Tuppy, and you never will be. [_Goes
up C._] I say, Darlington, let us have some cards. You’ll play, Arthur,
won’t you?
LORD WINDERMERE. No, thanks, Cecil.
DUMBY. [_With a sigh_.] Good heavens! how marriage ruins a man! It’s
as demoralising as cigarettes, and far more expensive.
CECIL GRAHAM. You’ll play, of course, Tuppy?
LORD AUGUSTUS. [_Pouring himself out a brandy and soda at table_.]
Can’t, dear boy. Promised Mrs. Erlynne never to play or drink again.
CECIL GRAHAM. Now, my dear Tuppy, don’t be led astray into the paths of
virtue. Reformed, you would be perfectly tedious. That is the worst of
women. They always want one to be good. And if we are good, when they
meet us, they don’t love us at all. They like to find us quite
irretrievably bad, and to leave us quite unattractively good.
LORD DARLINGTON. [_Rising from R. table_, _where he has been writing
letters_.] They always do find us bad!
DUMBY. I don’t think we are bad. I think we are all good, except Tuppy.
LORD DARLINGTON. No, we are all in the gutter, but some of us are
looking at the stars. [_Sits down at C. table_.]
DUMBY. We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the
stars? Upon my word, you are very romantic to-night, Darlington.
CECIL GRAHAM. Too romantic! You must be in love. Who is the girl?
LORD DARLINGTON. The woman I love is not free, or thinks she isn’t.
[_Glances instinctively at_ LORD WINDERMERE _while he speaks_.]
CECIL GRAHAM. A married woman, then! Well, there’s nothing in the world
like the devotion of a married woman. It’s a thing no married man knows
anything about.
LORD DARLINGTON. Oh! she doesn’t love me. She is a good woman. She is
the only good woman I have ever met in my life.
CECIL GRAHAM. The only good woman you have ever met in your life?
LORD DARLINGTON. Yes!
CECIL GRAHAM. [_Lighting a cigarette_.] Well, you are a lucky fellow!
Why, I have met hundreds of good women. I never seem to meet any but
good women. The world is perfectly packed with good women. To know them
is a middle-class education.
LORD DARLINGTON. This woman has purity and innocence. She has
everything we men have lost.
CECIL GRAHAM. My dear fellow, what on earth should we men do going about
with purity and innocence? A carefully thought-out buttonhole is much
more effective.
DUMBY. She doesn’t really love you then?
LORD DARLINGTON. No, she does not!
DUMBY. I congratulate you, my dear fellow. In this world there are only
two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is
getting it. The last is much the worst; the last is a real tragedy! But
I am interested to hear she does not love you. How long could you love a
woman who didn’t love you, Cecil?
CECIL GRAHAM. A woman who didn’t love me? Oh, all my life!
DUMBY. So could I. But it’s so difficult to meet one.
LORD DARLINGTON. How can you be so conceited, DUMBY?
DUMBY. I didn’t say it as a matter of conceit. I said it as a matter of
regret. I have been wildly, madly adored. I am sorry I have. It has
been an immense nuisance. I should like to be allowed a little time to
myself now and then.
LORD AUGUSTUS. [_Looking round_.] Time to educate yourself, I suppose.
DUMBY. No, time to forget all I have learned. That is much more
important, dear Tuppy. [LORD AUGUSTUS _moves uneasily in his chair_.]
LORD DARLINGTON. What cynics you fellows are!
CECIL GRAHAM. What is a cynic? [_Sitting on the back of the sofa_.]
LORD DARLINGTON. A man who knows the price of everything and the value
of nothing.
CECIL GRAHAM. And a sentimentalist, my dear Darlington, is a man who
sees an absurd value in everything, and doesn’t know the market price of
any single thing.
LORD DARLINGTON. You always amuse me, Cecil. You talk as if you were a
man of experience.
CECIL GRAHAM. I am. [_Moves up to front off fireplace_.]
LORD DARLINGTON. You are far too young!
CECIL GRAHAM. That is a great error. Experience is a question of
instinct about life. I have got it. Tuppy hasn’t. Experience is the
name Tuppy gives to his mistakes. That is all. [LORD AUGUSTUS _looks
round indignantly_.]
DUMBY. Experience is the name every one gives to their mistakes.
CECIL GRAHAM. [_Standing with his back to the fireplace_.] One
shouldn’t commit any. [_Sees_ LADY WINDERMERE’S _fan on sofa_.]
DUMBY. Life would be very dull without them.
CECIL GRAHAM. Of course you are quite faithful to this woman you are in
love with, Darlington, to this good woman?
LORD DARLINGTON. Cecil, if one really loves a woman, all other women in
the world become absolutely meaningless to one. Love changes one—_I_ am
changed.
CECIL GRAHAM. Dear me! How very interesting! Tuppy, I want to talk to
you. [LORD AUGUSTUS _takes no notice_.]
DUMBY. It’s no use talking to Tuppy. You might just as well talk to a
brick wall.
CECIL GRAHAM. But I like talking to a brick wall—it’s the only thing in
the world that never contradicts me! Tuppy!
LORD AUGUSTUS. Well, what is it? What is it? [_Rising and going over
to_ CECIL GRAHAM.]
CECIL GRAHAM. Come over here. I want you particularly. [_Aside_.]
Darlington has been moralising and talking about the purity of love, and
that sort of thing, and he has got some woman in his rooms all the time.
LORD AUGUSTUS. No, really! really!
CECIL GRAHAM. [_In a low voice_.] Yes, here is her fan. [_Points to
the fan_.]
LORD AUGUSTUS. [_Chuckling_.] By Jove! By Jove!
LORD WINDERMERE. [_Up by door_.] I am really off now, Lord Darlington.
I am sorry you are leaving England so soon. Pray call on us when you
come back! My wife and I will be charmed to see you!
LORD DARLINGTON. [_Upstage with_ LORD WINDERMERE.] I am afraid I shall
be away for many years. Good-night!
CECIL GRAHAM. Arthur!
LORD WINDERMERE. What?
CECIL GRAHAM. I want to speak to you for a moment. No, do come!
LORD WINDERMERE. [_Putting on his coat_.] I can’t—I’m off!
CECIL GRAHAM. It is something very particular. It will interest you
enormously.
LORD WINDERMERE. [_Smiling_.] It is some of your nonsense, Cecil.
CECIL GRAHAM. It isn’t! It isn’t really.
LORD AUGUSTUS. [_Going to him_.] My dear fellow, you mustn’t go yet. I
have a lot to talk to you about. And Cecil has something to show you.
LORD WINDERMERE. [_Walking over_.] Well, what is it?
CECIL GRAHAM. Darlington has got a woman here in his rooms. Here is her
fan. Amusing, isn’t it? [_A pause_.]
LORD WINDERMERE. Good God! [_Seizes the fan_—DUMBY _rises_.]
CECIL GRAHAM. What is the matter?
LORD WINDERMERE. Lord Darlington!
LORD DARLINGTON. [_Turning round_.] Yes!
LORD WINDERMERE. What is my wife’s fan doing here in your rooms? Hands
off, Cecil. Don’t touch me.
LORD DARLINGTON. Your wife’s fan?
LORD WINDERMERE. Yes, here it is!
LORD DARLINGTON. [_Walking towards him_.] I don’t know!
LORD WINDERMERE. You must know. I demand an explanation. Don’t hold
me, you fool. [_To_ CECIL GRAHAM.]
LORD DARLINGTON. [_Aside_.] She is here after all!
LORD WINDERMERE. Speak, sir! Why is my wife’s fan here? Answer me! By
God! I’ll search your rooms, and if my wife’s here, I’ll— [_Moves_.]
LORD DARLINGTON. You shall not search my rooms. You have no right to do
so. I forbid you!
LORD WINDERMERE. You scoundrel! I’ll not leave your room till I have
searched every corner of it! What moves behind that curtain? [_Rushes
towards the curtain C._]
MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Enters behind R._] Lord Windermere!
LORD WINDERMERE. Mrs. Erlynne!
[_Every one starts and turns round_. LADY WINDERMERE _slips out from
behind the curtain and glides from the room L._]
MRS. ERLYNNE. I am afraid I took your wife’s fan in mistake for my own,
when I was leaving your house to-night. I am so sorry. [_Takes fan from
him_. LORD WINDERMERE _looks at her in contempt_. LORD DARLINGTON _in
mingled astonishment and anger_. LORD AUGUSTUS _turns away_. _The other
men smile at each other_.]
ACT DROP.
FOURTH ACT
SCENE—Same as in Act I.
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Lying on sofa_.] How can I tell him? I can’t tell
him. It would kill me. I wonder what happened after I escaped from that
horrible room. Perhaps she told them the true reason of her being there,
and the real meaning of that—fatal fan of mine. Oh, if he knows—how can
I look him in the face again? He would never forgive me. [_Touches
bell_.] How securely one thinks one lives—out of reach of temptation,
sin, folly. And then suddenly—Oh! Life is terrible. It rules us, we do
not rule it.
[_Enter_ ROSALIE _R._]
ROSALIE. Did your ladyship ring for me?
LADY WINDERMERE. Yes. Have you found out at what time Lord Windermere
came in last night?
ROSALIE. His lordship did not come in till five o’clock.
LADY WINDERMERE. Five o’clock? He knocked at my door this morning,
didn’t he?
ROSALIE. Yes, my lady—at half-past nine. I told him your ladyship was
not awake yet.
LADY WINDERMERE. Did he say anything?
ROSALIE. Something about your ladyship’s fan. I didn’t quite catch what
his lordship said. Has the fan been lost, my lady? I can’t find it, and
Parker says it was not left in any of the rooms. He has looked in all of
them and on the terrace as well.
LADY WINDERMERE. It doesn’t matter. Tell Parker not to trouble. That
will do.
[_Exit_ ROSALIE.]
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Rising_.] She is sure to tell him. I can fancy a
person doing a wonderful act of self-sacrifice, doing it spontaneously,
recklessly, nobly—and afterwards finding out that it costs too much. Why
should she hesitate between her ruin and mine? . . . How strange! I
would have publicly disgraced her in my own house. She accepts public
disgrace in the house of another to save me. . . . There is a bitter