Act II — Gwendolen Comes to the Manor House

by Oscar Wilde · 2026-08-05

Merriman came out.

Merriman: The dog-cart is waiting, sir.

Algernon: Tell it to come round next week, at the same hour.

He looked at Cecily, who made no sign.

Merriman: Yes, sir.

Merriman retired.

Cecily: Uncle Jack would be very much annoyed if he knew you were staying on till next week, at the same hour.

Algernon: Oh, I don’t care about Jack. I don’t care for anybody in the whole world but you. I love you, Cecily. You will marry me, won’t you?

Cecily: Yes, it will be exactly three months on Thursday.

Algernon: But how did we become engaged?

Cecily: Well, ever since dear Uncle Jack first confessed to us that he had a younger brother who was very wicked and bad, you of course have formed the chief topic of conversation between myself and Miss Prism. And of course a man who is much talked about is always very attractive. One feels there must be something in him, after all. I daresay it was foolish of me, but I fell in love with you, Ernest.

Algernon: Darling! And when was the engagement actually settled?

Cecily: On the 14th of February last. Worn out by your entire ignorance of my existence, I determined to end the matter one way or the other, and after a long struggle with myself I accepted you under this dear old tree here. The next day I bought this little ring in your name, and this is the little bangle with the true lover’s knot I promised you always to wear.

Algernon: Did I give you this? It’s very pretty, isn’t it?

Cecily: Yes, you’ve wonderfully good taste, Ernest. It’s the excuse I’ve always given for your leading such a bad life. And this is the box in which I keep all your dear letters.

She knelt at the table, opened a box, and produced a bundle of letters tied up with blue ribbon.

Algernon: My letters! But, my own sweet Cecily, I have never written you any letters.

Cecily: You need hardly remind me of that, Ernest. I remember only too well that I was forced to write your letters for you. I wrote always three times a week, and sometimes oftener.

Algernon: Oh, do let me read them, Cecily?

Cecily: Oh, I couldn’t possibly. They would make you far too conceited.

She put the box back.

Cecily: The three you wrote me after I had broken off the engagement are so beautiful, and so badly spelled, that even now I can hardly read them without crying a little.

Algernon: But was our engagement ever broken off?

Cecily: Of course it was. On the 22nd of last March. You can see the entry if you like.

She showed him the diary.

Cecily: ‘To-day I broke off my engagement with Ernest. I feel it is better to do so. The weather still continues charming.’

Algernon: But why on earth did you break it off? What had I done? I had done nothing at all. Cecily, I am very much hurt indeed to hear you broke it off. Particularly when the weather was so charming.

Cecily: It would hardly have been a really serious engagement if it hadn’t been broken off at least once. But I forgave you before the week was out.

He crossed to her and went down on one knee.

Algernon: What a perfect angel you are, Cecily.

Cecily: You dear romantic boy.

He kissed her, and she ran her fingers through his hair.

Cecily: I hope your hair curls naturally, does it?

Algernon: Yes, darling, with a little help from others.

Cecily: I am so glad.

Algernon: You’ll never break off our engagement again, Cecily?

Cecily: I don’t think I could break it off now that I have actually met you. Besides, of course, there is the question of your name.

Algernon: Yes, of course.

He said it nervously.

Cecily: You must not laugh at me, darling, but it had always been a girlish dream of mine to love some one whose name was Ernest.

Algernon rose, and Cecily with him.

Cecily: There is something in that name that seems to inspire absolute confidence. I pity any poor married woman whose husband is not called Ernest.

Algernon: Oh, any name you like—Algernon—for instance …

Cecily: But I don’t like the name of Algernon.

Algernon: Well, my own dear, sweet, loving little darling, I really can’t see why you should object to the name of Algernon. It is not at all a bad name. In fact, it is rather an aristocratic name. Half of the chaps who get into the Bankruptcy Court are called Algernon. But seriously, Cecily …

He moved to her.

Algernon: … if my name was Algy, couldn’t you love me?

Cecily rose.

Cecily: I might respect you, Ernest, I might admire your character, but I fear that I should not be able to give you my undivided attention.

Algernon: Ahem! Cecily!

He picked up his hat.

Algernon: Your Rector here is, I suppose, thoroughly experienced in the practice of all the rites and ceremonials of the Church?

Cecily: Oh, yes. Dr. Chasuble is a most learned man. He has never written a single book, so you can imagine how much he knows.

Algernon: I must see him at once on a most important christening—I mean on most important business.

Cecily: Oh!

Algernon: I shan’t be away more than half an hour.

Cecily: Considering that we have been engaged since February the 14th, and that I only met you to-day for the first time, I think it is rather hard that you should leave me for so long a period as half an hour. Couldn’t you make it twenty minutes?

Algernon: I’ll be back in no time.

He kissed her and rushed off down the garden.

Cecily: What an impetuous boy he is! I like his hair so much. I must enter his proposal in my diary.

Merriman appeared.

Merriman: A Miss Fairfax has just called to see Mr. Worthing. On very important business, Miss Fairfax states.

Cecily: Isn’t Mr. Worthing in his library?

Merriman: Mr. Worthing went over in the direction of the Rectory some time ago.

Cecily: Pray ask the lady to come out here; Mr. Worthing is sure to be back soon. And you can bring tea.

Merriman: Yes, Miss.

He went out.

Cecily: Miss Fairfax! I suppose one of the many good elderly women who are associated with Uncle Jack in some of his philanthropic work in London. I don’t quite like women who are interested in philanthropic work. I think it is so forward of them.

Merriman came back.

Merriman: Miss Fairfax.

Gwendolen came into the garden.

Merriman withdrew.

Cecily advanced to meet her.

Cecily: Pray let me introduce myself to you. My name is Cecily Cardew.

Gwendolen: Cecily Cardew?

She moved to her and shook hands.

Gwendolen: What a very sweet name! Something tells me that we are going to be great friends. I like you already more than I can say. My first impressions of people are never wrong.

Cecily: How nice of you to like me so much after we have known each other such a comparatively short time. Pray sit down.

She was still standing.

Gwendolen: And you will always call me Gwendolen, won’t you?

Cecily: If you wish.

Gwendolen: Then that is all quite settled, is it not?

Cecily: I hope so.

There was a pause. They sat down together.

Gwendolen: Perhaps this might be a favourable opportunity for my mentioning who I am. My father is Lord Bracknell. You have never heard of papa, I suppose?

Cecily: I don’t think so.

Gwendolen: Outside the family circle, papa, I am glad to say, is entirely unknown. I think that is quite as it should be. The home seems to me to be the proper sphere for the man. And certainly once a man begins to neglect his domestic duties he becomes painfully effeminate, does he not? And I don’t like that. It makes men so very attractive. Cecily, mamma, whose views on education are remarkably strict, has brought me up to be extremely short-sighted; it is part of her system; so do you mind my looking at you through my glasses?

Cecily: Oh! not at all, Gwendolen. I am very fond of being looked at.