Act I — The Cigarette Case

by Oscar Wilde · 2026-08-05

The morning-room of Algernon Moncrieff’s flat in Half-Moon Street was furnished with the sort of luxury that takes a great deal of trouble to look careless. From the next room came the sound of a piano, played with far more expression than accuracy. Lane went on setting out the afternoon tea as though the music were no affair of his; and when at last it stopped, Algernon came in.

Algernon Moncrieff: Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?

Lane: I didn’t think it polite to listen, sir.

Algernon Moncrieff: I’m sorry for that, for your sake. I don’t play accurately—any one can play accurately—but I play with wonderful expression. As far as the piano is concerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep science for Life.

Lane held the salver out to him without a flicker of expression. Algernon inspected the sandwiches, took two, and settled back on the sofa.

Algernon Moncrieff: Oh! … by the way, Lane, I see from your book that on Thursday night, when Lord Shoreman and Mr. Worthing were dining with me, eight bottles of champagne are entered as having been consumed.

Lane: Yes, sir; eight bottles and a pint.

Algernon Moncrieff: Why is it that at a bachelor’s establishment the servants invariably drink the champagne? I ask merely for information.

Lane: I attribute it to the superior quality of the wine, sir. I have often observed that in married households the champagne is rarely of a first-rate brand.

Algernon Moncrieff: Good heavens! Is marriage so demoralising as that?

Lane: I believe it is a very pleasant state, sir. I have had very little experience of it myself up to the present. I have only been married once. That was in consequence of a misunderstanding between myself and a young person.

Algernon answered without troubling to look up.

Algernon Moncrieff: I don’t know that I am much interested in your family life, Lane.

Lane: No, sir; it is not a very interesting subject. I never think of it myself.

Algernon Moncrieff: Very natural, I am sure. That will do, Lane, thank you.

Lane: Thank you, sir.

Lane withdrew, carrying the subject of his marriage out with him.

Algernon Moncrieff: Lane’s views on marriage seem somewhat lax. Really, if the lower orders don’t set us a good example, what on earth is the use of them? They seem, as a class, to have absolutely no sense of moral responsibility.

Lane appeared in the doorway with the particular gravity he kept for visitors.

Lane: Mr. Ernest Worthing.

Jack came in, and Lane, his duty done, went out again.

Algernon Moncrieff: How are you, my dear Ernest? What brings you up to town?

Jack Worthing: Oh, pleasure, pleasure! What else should bring one anywhere? Eating as usual, I see, Algy!

Algernon replied with some stiffness.

Algernon Moncrieff: I believe it is customary in good society to take some slight refreshment at five o’clock. Where have you been since last Thursday?

Jack let himself down on to the sofa.

Jack Worthing: In the country.

Algernon Moncrieff: What on earth do you do there?

Jack pulled off his gloves as he spoke.

Jack Worthing: When one is in town one amuses oneself. When one is in the country one amuses other people. It is excessively boring.

Algernon Moncrieff: And who are the people you amuse?

Jack answered airily, as though the word covered everything.

Jack Worthing: Oh, neighbours, neighbours.

Algernon Moncrieff: Got nice neighbours in your part of Shropshire?

Jack Worthing: Perfectly horrid! Never speak to one of them.

Algernon Moncrieff: How immensely you must amuse them!

He crossed to the table and took a sandwich.

Algernon Moncrieff: By the way, Shropshire is your county, is it not?

Jack Worthing: Eh? Shropshire? Yes, of course. Hallo! Why all these cups? Why cucumber sandwiches? Why such reckless extravagance in one so young? Who is coming to tea?

Algernon Moncrieff: Oh! merely Aunt Augusta and Gwendolen.

Jack Worthing: How perfectly delightful!

Algernon Moncrieff: Yes, that is all very well; but I am afraid Aunt Augusta won’t quite approve of your being here.

Jack Worthing: May I ask why?

Algernon Moncrieff: My dear fellow, the way you flirt with Gwendolen is perfectly disgraceful. It is almost as bad as the way Gwendolen flirts with you.

Jack Worthing: How utterly unromantic you are!

Algernon Moncrieff: I really don’t see anything romantic in proposing. It is very romantic to be in love. But there is nothing romantic about a definite proposal. Why, one may be accepted. One usually is, I believe. Then the excitement is all over. The very essence of romance is uncertainty. If ever I get married, I’ll certainly try to forget the fact.

Jack Worthing: I have no doubt about that, dear Algy. The Divorce Court was specially invented for people whose memories are so curiously constituted.

Algernon Moncrieff: Oh! there is no use speculating on that subject. Divorces are made in Heaven—

Jack put out a hand towards the sandwiches. Algernon interfered at once.

Algernon Moncrieff: Please don’t touch the cucumber sandwiches. They are ordered specially for Aunt Augusta.

He took one himself and ate it.

Jack Worthing: Well, you have been eating them all the time.

Algernon Moncrieff: That is quite a different matter. She is my aunt.

He took up the plate from the shelf below.

Algernon Moncrieff: Have some bread and butter. The bread and butter is for Gwendolen. Gwendolen is devoted to bread and butter.

Jack came over to the table and helped himself.

Jack Worthing: And very good bread and butter it is too.

Algernon Moncrieff: Well, my dear fellow, you need not eat as if you were going to eat it all. You behave as if you were married to her already. You are not married to her already, and I don’t think you ever will be.

Jack Worthing: Why on earth do you say that?

Algernon: Well, in the first place girls never marry the men they flirt with. Girls don’t think it right.

Jack Worthing: Oh, that is nonsense!

Algernon Moncrieff: It isn’t. It is a great truth. It accounts for the extraordinary number of bachelors that one sees all over the place. In the second place, I don’t give my consent.

Jack Worthing: Your consent!

Algernon Moncrieff: My dear fellow, Gwendolen is my first cousin. And before I allow you to marry her, you will have to clear up the whole question of Cecily.

He rang the bell.

Jack Worthing: Cecily! What on earth do you mean? What do you mean, Algy, by Cecily! I don’t know any one of the name of Cecily.

Lane answered the bell.

Algernon Moncrieff: Bring me that cigarette case Mr. Worthing left in the smoking-room the last time he dined here.

Lane: Yes, sir.

Lane bowed and went.

Jack Worthing: Do you mean to say you have had my cigarette case all this time? I wish to goodness you had let me know. I have been writing frantic letters to Scotland Yard about it. I was very nearly offering a large reward.

Algernon Moncrieff: Well, I wish you would offer one. I happen to be more than usually hard up.

Jack Worthing: There is no good offering a large reward now that the thing is found.

Lane came back with the cigarette case on a salver. Algernon took it before Jack could reach it, and Lane withdrew.

Algernon Moncrieff: I think that is rather mean of you, Ernest, I must say.

He opened the case and examined it.

Algernon Moncrieff: However, it makes no matter, for, now that I look at the inscription inside, I find that the thing isn’t yours after all.

Jack Worthing: Of course it’s mine.

Jack moved towards him.

Jack Worthing: You have seen me with it a hundred times, and you have no right whatsoever to read what is written inside. It is a very ungentlemanly thing to read a private cigarette case.

Algernon Moncrieff: Oh! it is absurd to have a hard and fast rule about what one should read and what one shouldn’t. More than half of modern culture depends on what one shouldn’t read.

Jack Worthing: I am quite aware of the fact, and I don’t propose to discuss modern culture. It isn’t the sort of thing one should talk of in private. I simply want my cigarette case back.

Algernon Moncrieff: Yes; but this isn’t your cigarette case. This cigarette case is a present from some one of the name of Cecily, and you said you didn’t know any one of that name.

Jack Worthing: Yes. Charming old lady she is, too. Lives at Tunbridge Wells. Just give it back to me, Algy.

Algernon retreated behind the sofa, holding the case out of reach.

Algernon Moncrieff: But why does she call herself little Cecily if she is your aunt and lives at Tunbridge Wells?

He read the inscription aloud.

Algernon Moncrieff: ‘From little Cecily with her fondest love.’