Act II — Sugar and Cake

by Oscar Wilde · 2026-08-05

Gwendolen examined Cecily carefully through a lorgnette before she spoke.

Gwendolen: You are here on a short visit, I suppose.

Cecily: Oh no! I live here.

Gwendolen’s voice went cold.

Gwendolen: Really? Your mother, no doubt, or some female relative of advanced years, resides here also?

Cecily: Oh no! I have no mother, nor, in fact, any relations.

Gwendolen: Indeed?

Cecily: My dear guardian, with the assistance of Miss Prism, has the arduous task of looking after me.

Gwendolen: Your guardian?

Cecily: Yes, I am Mr. Worthing’s ward.

Gwendolen: Oh! It is strange he never mentioned to me that he had a ward. How secretive of him! He grows more interesting hourly. I am not sure, however, that the news inspires me with feelings of unmixed delight.

She rose and went to her.

Gwendolen: I am very fond of you, Cecily; I have liked you ever since I met you! But I am bound to state that now that I know that you are Mr. Worthing’s ward, I cannot help expressing a wish you were—well, just a little older than you seem to be—and not quite so very alluring in appearance. In fact, if I may speak candidly—

Cecily: Pray do! I think that whenever one has anything unpleasant to say, one should always be quite candid.

Gwendolen: Well, to speak with perfect candour, Cecily, I wish that you were fully forty-two, and more than usually plain for your age. Ernest has a strong upright nature. He is the very soul of truth and honour. Disloyalty would be as impossible to him as deception. But even men of the noblest possible moral character are extremely susceptible to the influence of the physical charms of others. Modern, no less than Ancient History, supplies us with many most painful examples of what I refer to. If it were not so, indeed, History would be quite unreadable.

Cecily: Oh, but it is not Mr. Ernest Worthing who is my guardian. It is his brother—his elder brother.

She sat down again.

Gwendolen: Ernest never mentioned to me that he had a brother.

Cecily: I am sorry to say they have not been on good terms for a long time.

Gwendolen: Ah! that accounts for it. And now that I think of it I have never heard any man mention his brother. The subject seems distasteful to most men. Cecily, you have lifted a load from my mind. I was growing almost anxious. It would have been terrible if any cloud had come across a friendship like ours, would it not? Of course you are quite, quite sure that it is not Mr. Ernest Worthing who is your guardian?

Cecily: Quite sure.

There was a pause.

Cecily: In fact, I am going to be his.

Gwendolen looked up sharply.

Gwendolen: I beg your pardon?

Cecily said it shyly, in confidence.

Cecily: Dearest Gwendolen, there is no reason why I should make a secret of it to you. Our little county newspaper is sure to chronicle the fact next week. Mr. Ernest Worthing and I are engaged to be married.

Gwendolen rose, quite politely.

Gwendolen: My darling Cecily, I think there must be some slight error. Mr. Ernest Worthing is engaged to me. The announcement will appear in the Morning Post on Saturday at the latest.

Cecily rose, very politely.

Cecily: I am afraid you must be under some misconception. Ernest proposed to me exactly ten minutes ago.

She showed her the diary.

Gwendolen examined the diary carefully through her lorgnette.

Gwendolen: It is certainly very curious, for he asked me to be his wife yesterday afternoon at 5.30. If you would care to verify the incident, pray do so.

She produced a diary of her own.

Gwendolen: I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train. I am so sorry, dear Cecily, if it is any disappointment to you, but I am afraid I have the prior claim.

Cecily: It would distress me more than I can tell you, dear Gwendolen, if it caused you any mental or physical anguish, but I feel bound to point out that since Ernest proposed to you he clearly has changed his mind.

Gwendolen considered.

Gwendolen: If the poor fellow has been entrapped into any foolish promise I shall consider it my duty to rescue him at once, and with a firm hand.

Cecily answered thoughtfully, and rather sadly.

Cecily: Whatever unfortunate entanglement my dear boy may have got into, I will never reproach him with it after we are married.

Gwendolen: Do you allude to me, Miss Cardew, as an entanglement? You are presumptuous. On an occasion of this kind it becomes more than a moral duty to speak one’s mind. It becomes a pleasure.

Cecily: Do you suggest, Miss Fairfax, that I entrapped Ernest into an engagement? How dare you? This is no time for wearing the shallow mask of manners. When I see a spade I call it a spade.

Gwendolen said it with satire.

Gwendolen: I am glad to say that I have never seen a spade. It is obvious that our social spheres have been widely different.

Merriman came out, followed by the footman with a salver, a table cloth and a plate stand. Cecily was on the point of retorting; but the presence of the servants restrained them both, and both of them chafed under it.

Merriman: Shall I lay tea here as usual, Miss?

Cecily answered sternly, in a very calm voice.

Cecily: Yes, as usual.

Merriman cleared the table and laid the cloth. There was a long pause, during which the two young ladies glared at one another.

Gwendolen: Are there many interesting walks in the vicinity, Miss Cardew?

Cecily: Oh! yes! a great many. From the top of one of the hills quite close one can see five counties.

Gwendolen: Five counties! I don’t think I should like that; I hate crowds.

Cecily said it sweetly.

Cecily: I suppose that is why you live in town?

Gwendolen bit her lip and beat her foot nervously with her parasol.

Gwendolen looked round her.

Gwendolen: I had no idea there were any flowers in the country.

Cecily: Oh, flowers are as common here, Miss Fairfax, as people are in London.

Gwendolen: Personally I cannot understand how anybody manages to exist in the country, if anybody who is anybody does. The country always bores me to death.

Cecily: Ah! This is what the newspapers call agricultural depression, is it not? I believe the aristocracy are suffering very much from it just at present. It is almost an epidemic amongst them, I have been told. May I offer you some tea, Miss Fairfax?

Gwendolen said it with elaborate politeness.

Gwendolen: Thank you.

She added, under her breath:

Gwendolen: Detestable girl! But I require tea!

Cecily said it sweetly; Gwendolen answered superciliously.

Cecily gave her one angry look, took up the tongs, and put four lumps of sugar into the cup.

Cecily asked it severely.

Cecily: Cake or bread and butter?

Gwendolen answered in a bored manner.

Gwendolen: Bread and butter, please. Cake is rarely seen at the best houses nowadays.

She cut a very large slice of cake and put it on the tray.

Cecily: Hand that to Miss Fairfax.

Merriman did so, and went out with the footman. Gwendolen drank her tea, made a face, and set the cup down at once. She reached for the bread and butter, looked at it, and found it was cake. She rose in indignation.

Gwendolen: You have filled my tea with lumps of sugar, and though I asked most distinctly for bread and butter, you have given me cake. I am known for the gentleness of my disposition, and the extraordinary sweetness of my nature, but I warn you, Miss Cardew, you may go too far.

Cecily rose.

Cecily: To save my poor, innocent, trusting boy from the machinations of any other girl there are no lengths to which I would not go.

Gwendolen: From the moment I saw you I distrusted you. I felt that you were false and deceitful. I am never deceived in such matters. My first impressions of people are invariably right.

Cecily: It seems to me, Miss Fairfax, that I am trespassing on your valuable time. No doubt you have many other calls of a similar character to make in the neighbourhood.

Jack came into the garden.

Gwendolen caught sight of him.

Gwendolen: Ernest! My own Ernest!

Jack: Gwendolen! Darling!

He moved to kiss her.

Gwendolen drew back.

Gwendolen: A moment! May I ask if you are engaged to be married to this young lady?

She pointed to Cecily.

Jack laughed.

Jack: To dear little Cecily! Of course not! What could have put such an idea into your pretty little head?

Gwendolen: Thank you. You may!

She offered her cheek.

Cecily answered very sweetly.

Cecily: I knew there must be some misunderstanding, Miss Fairfax. The gentleman whose arm is at present round your waist is my guardian, Mr. John Worthing.

Gwendolen: I beg your pardon?

Gwendolen drew back.

Enter Algernon.

Cecily: Here is Ernest.