Act II — Cecily's Diary

by Oscar Wilde · 2026-08-05

Cecily came out of the house.

Cecily: Uncle Jack! Oh, I am pleased to see you back. But what horrid clothes you have got on! Do go and change them.

Miss Prism: Cecily!

Chasuble: My child! my child!

Cecily went to him, and Jack kissed her brow in a melancholy manner.

Cecily: What is the matter, Uncle Jack? Do look happy! You look as if you had toothache, and I have got such a surprise for you. Who do you think is in the dining-room? Your brother!

Jack: What nonsense! I haven’t got a brother.

Cecily: Oh, don’t say that. However badly he may have behaved to you in the past he is still your brother. You couldn’t be so heartless as to disown him. I’ll tell him to come out. And you will shake hands with him, won’t you, Uncle Jack?

She ran back into the house.

Chasuble: These are very joyful tidings.

Miss Prism: After we had all been resigned to his loss, his sudden return seems to me peculiarly distressing.

Jack: My brother is in the dining-room? I don’t know what it all means. I think it is perfectly absurd.

Algernon and Cecily came up the garden hand in hand, and stopped in front of Jack.

Jack: Good heavens!

He waved Algernon away.

Algernon: Brother John, I have come down from town to tell you that I am very sorry for all the trouble I have given you, and that I intend to lead a better life in the future.

Jack glared at him and did not take the hand.

Cecily: Uncle Jack, you are not going to refuse your own brother’s hand?

Jack: Nothing will induce me to take his hand. I think his coming down here disgraceful. He knows perfectly well why.

Cecily: Uncle Jack, do be nice. There is some good in every one. Ernest has just been telling me about his poor invalid friend Mr. Bunbury whom he goes to visit so often. And surely there must be much good in one who is kind to an invalid, and leaves the pleasures of London to sit by a bed of pain.

Jack: Oh! he has been talking about Bunbury, has he?

Cecily: Yes, he has told me all about poor Mr. Bunbury, and his terrible state of health.

Jack: Bunbury! Well, I won’t have him talk to you about Bunbury or about anything else. It is enough to drive one perfectly frantic.

Algernon: Of course I admit that the faults were all on my side. But I must say that I think that Brother John’s coldness to me is peculiarly painful. I expected a more enthusiastic welcome, especially considering it is the first time I have come here.

Cecily: Never, never, never!

Jack: Well, this is the last time I shall ever do it.

He shook Algernon’s hand, glaring at him all the while.

Chasuble: It’s pleasant, is it not, to see so perfect a reconciliation? I think we might leave the two brothers together.

Miss Prism: Cecily, you will come with us.

Cecily: Certainly, Miss Prism. My little task of reconciliation is over.

Chasuble: You have done a beautiful action to-day, dear child.

Miss Prism: We must not be premature in our judgments.

Cecily: I feel very happy.

The others went off, and the two of them were left alone.

Jack: You young scoundrel, Algy, you must get out of this place as soon as possible. I don’t allow any Bunburying here.

Merriman came out.

Merriman: I have put Mr. Ernest’s things in the room next to yours, sir. I suppose that is all right?

Jack: His luggage?

Merriman: Yes, sir. Three portmanteaus, a dressing-case, two hat-boxes, and a large luncheon-basket.

Algernon: I am afraid I can’t stay more than a week this time.

Jack: Merriman, order the dog-cart at once. Mr. Ernest has been suddenly called back to town.

Merriman: Yes, sir.

Merriman went back into the house.

Algernon: What a fearful liar you are, Jack. I have not been called back to town at all.

Jack: Yes, you have.

Algernon: I haven’t heard any one call me.

Jack: Your duty as a gentleman calls you back.

Algernon: My duty as a gentleman has never interfered with my pleasures in the smallest degree.

Jack: I can quite understand that.

Algernon: Well, Cecily is a darling.

Jack: You are not to talk of Miss Cardew like that. I don’t like it.

Algernon: Well, I don’t like your clothes. You look perfectly ridiculous in them. Why on earth don’t you go up and change? It is perfectly childish to be in deep mourning for a man who is actually staying for a whole week with you in your house as a guest. I call it grotesque.

Jack: You are certainly not staying with me for a whole week as a guest or anything else. You have got to leave … by the four-five train.

Algernon: I certainly won’t leave you so long as you are in mourning. It would be most unfriendly. If I were in mourning you would stay with me, I suppose. I should think it very unkind if you didn’t.

Jack: Well, will you go if I change my clothes?

Algernon: Yes, if you are not too long. I never saw anybody take so long to dress, and with such little result.

Jack: Well, at any rate, that is better than being always over-dressed as you are.

Algernon: If I am occasionally a little over-dressed, I make up for it by being always immensely over-educated.

Jack: Your vanity is ridiculous, your conduct an outrage, and your presence in my garden utterly absurd. However, you have got to catch the four-five, and I hope you will have a pleasant journey back to town. This Bunburying, as you call it, has not been a great success for you.

Jack went into the house.

Algernon: I think it has been a great success. I’m in love with Cecily, and that is everything.

Cecily appeared at the bottom of the garden, took up the watering can and began on the flowers again.

Algernon: But I must see her before I go, and make arrangements for another Bunbury. Ah, there she is.

Cecily: Oh, I merely came back to water the roses. I thought you were with Uncle Jack.

Algernon: He’s going to send me away.

Cecily: Then have we got to part?

Algernon: I am afraid so. It’s a very painful parting.

Cecily: It is always painful to part from people whom one has known for a very brief space of time. The absence of old friends one can endure with equanimity. But even a momentary separation from anyone to whom one has just been introduced is almost unbearable.

Algernon: Thank you.

Merriman came out again.

Merriman: The dog-cart is at the door, sir.

Algernon looked appealingly at Cecily.

Cecily: It can wait, Merriman for … five minutes.

Merriman: Yes, Miss.

Merriman withdrew.

Algernon: I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you if I state quite frankly and openly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection.

Cecily: I think your frankness does you great credit, Ernest. If you will allow me, I will copy your remarks into my diary.

She went over to the table and began writing in her diary.

Algernon: Do you really keep a diary? I’d give anything to look at it. May I?

Cecily: Oh no.

She put her hand over it.

Cecily: You see, it is simply a very young girl’s record of her own thoughts and impressions, and consequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume form I hope you will order a copy. But pray, Ernest, don’t stop. I delight in taking down from dictation. I have reached ‘absolute perfection’. You can go on. I am quite ready for more.

Algernon was somewhat taken aback.

Algernon: Ahem! Ahem!

Cecily: Oh, don’t cough, Ernest. When one is dictating one should speak fluently and not cough. Besides, I don’t know how to spell a cough.

She wrote as he spoke.

Algernon spoke very rapidly.

Algernon: Cecily, ever since I first looked upon your wonderful and incomparable beauty, I have dared to love you wildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly.

Cecily: I don’t think that you should tell me that you love me wildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly. Hopelessly doesn’t seem to make much sense, does it?

Algernon: Cecily!