Part 4

LADY WINDERMERE. If my husband didn’t read my letter, how is it that you are here? Who told you I had left the house you were shameless enough to enter? Who told you where I had gone to? My husband told you, and sent you to decoy me back. [_Crosses L._]

MRS. ERLYNNE. [_R.C._] Your husband has never seen the letter. I—saw it, I opened it. I—read it.

LADY WINDERMERE. [_Turning to her_.] You opened a letter of mine to my husband? You wouldn’t dare!

MRS. ERLYNNE. Dare! Oh! to save you from the abyss into which you are falling, there is nothing in the world I would not dare, nothing in the whole world. Here is the letter. Your husband has never read it. He never shall read it. [_Going to fireplace_.] It should never have been written. [_Tears it and throws it into the fire_.]

LADY WINDERMERE. [_With infinite contempt in her voice and look_.] How do I know that that was my letter after all? You seem to think the commonest device can take me in!

MRS. ERLYNNE. Oh! why do you disbelieve everything I tell you? What object do you think I have in coming here, except to save you from utter ruin, to save you from the consequence of a hideous mistake? That letter that is burnt now _was_ your letter. I swear it to you!

LADY WINDERMERE. [_Slowly_.] You took good care to burn it before I had examined it. I cannot trust you. You, whose whole life is a lie, could you speak the truth about anything? [_Sits down_.]

MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Hurriedly_.] Think as you like about me—say what you choose against me, but go back, go back to the husband you love.

LADY WINDERMERE. [_Sullenly_.] I do _not_ love him!

MRS. ERLYNNE. You do, and you know that he loves you.

LADY WINDERMERE. He does not understand what love is. He understands it as little as you do—but I see what you want. It would be a great advantage for you to get me back. Dear Heaven! what a life I would have then! Living at the mercy of a woman who has neither mercy nor pity in her, a woman whom it is an infamy to meet, a degradation to know, a vile woman, a woman who comes between husband and wife!

MRS. ERLYNNE. [_With a gesture of despair_.] Lady Windermere, Lady Windermere, don’t say such terrible things. You don’t know how terrible they are, how terrible and how unjust. Listen, you must listen! Only go back to your husband, and I promise you never to communicate with him again on any pretext—never to see him—never to have anything to do with his life or yours. The money that he gave me, he gave me not through love, but through hatred, not in worship, but in contempt. The hold I have over him—

LADY WINDERMERE. [_Rising_.] Ah! you admit you have a hold!

MRS. ERLYNNE. Yes, and I will tell you what it is. It is his love for you, Lady Windermere.

LADY WINDERMERE. You expect me to believe that?

MRS. ERLYNNE. You must believe it! It is true. It is his love for you that has made him submit to—oh! call it what you like, tyranny, threats, anything you choose. But it is his love for you. His desire to spare you—shame, yes, shame and disgrace.

LADY WINDERMERE. What do you mean? You are insolent! What have I to do with you?

MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Humbly_.] Nothing. I know it—but I tell you that your husband loves you—that you may never meet with such love again in your whole life—that such love you will never meet—and that if you throw it away, the day may come when you will starve for love and it will not be given to you, beg for love and it will be denied you—Oh! Arthur loves you!

LADY WINDERMERE. Arthur? And you tell me there is nothing between you?

MRS. ERLYNNE. Lady Windermere, before Heaven your husband is guiltless of all offence towards you! And I—I tell you that had it ever occurred to me that such a monstrous suspicion would have entered your mind, I would have died rather than have crossed your life or his—oh! died, gladly died! [_Moves away to sofa R._]

LADY WINDERMERE. You talk as if you had a heart. Women like you have no hearts. Heart is not in you. You are bought and sold. [_Sits L.C._]

MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Starts_, _with a gesture of pain_. _Then restrains herself_, _and comes over to where_ LADY WINDERMERE _is sitting_. _As she speaks_, _she stretches out her hands towards her_, _but does not dare to touch her_.] Believe what you choose about me. I am not worth a moment’s sorrow. But don’t spoil your beautiful young life on my account! You don’t know what may be in store for you, unless you leave this house at once. You don’t know what it is to fall into the pit, to be despised, mocked, abandoned, sneered at—to be an outcast! to find the door shut against one, to have to creep in by hideous byways, afraid every moment lest the mask should be stripped from one’s face, and all the while to hear the laughter, the horrible laughter of the world, a thing more tragic than all the tears the world has ever shed. You don’t know what it is. One pays for one’s sin, and then one pays again, and all one’s life one pays. You must never know that.—As for me, if suffering be an expiation, then at this moment I have expiated all my faults, whatever they have been; for to-night you have made a heart in one who had it not, made it and broken it.—But let that pass. I may have wrecked my own life, but I will not let you wreck yours. You—why, you are a mere girl, you would be lost. You haven’t got the kind of brains that enables a woman to get back. You have neither the wit nor the courage. You couldn’t stand dishonour! No! Go back, Lady Windermere, to the husband who loves you, whom you love. You have a child, Lady Windermere. Go back to that child who even now, in pain or in joy, may be calling to you. [LADY WINDERMERE _rises_.] God gave you that child. He will require from you that you make his life fine, that you watch over him. What answer will you make to God if his life is ruined through you? Back to your house, Lady Windermere—your husband loves you! He has never swerved for a moment from the love he bears you. But even if he had a thousand loves, you must stay with your child. If he was harsh to you, you must stay with your child. If he ill-treated you, you must stay with your child. If he abandoned you, your place is with your child.

[LADY WINDERMERE _bursts into tears and buries her face in her hands_.]

[_Rushing to her_.] Lady Windermere!

LADY WINDERMERE. [_Holding out her hands to her_, _helplessly_, _as a child might do_.] Take me home. Take me home.

MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Is about to embrace her_. _Then restrains herself_. _There is a look of wonderful joy in her face_.] Come! Where is your cloak? [_Getting it from sofa_.] Here. Put it on. Come at once!

[_They go to the door_.]

LADY WINDERMERE. Stop! Don’t you hear voices?

MRS. ERLYNNE. No, no! There was no one!

LADY WINDERMERE. Yes, there is! Listen! Oh! that is my husband’s voice! He is coming in! Save me! Oh, it’s some plot! You have sent for him.

[_Voices outside_.]

MRS. ERLYNNE. Silence! I’m here to save you, if I can. But I fear it is too late! There! [_Points to the curtain across the window_.] The first chance you have, slip out, if you ever get a chance!

LADY WINDERMERE. But you?

MRS. ERLYNNE. Oh! never mind me. I’ll face them.

[LADY WINDERMERE _hides herself behind the curtain_.]

LORD AUGUSTUS. [_Outside_.] Nonsense, dear Windermere, you must not leave me!

MRS. ERLYNNE. Lord Augustus! Then it is I who am lost! [_Hesitates for a moment_, then _looks round and sees door R._, _and exits through it_.]

[_Enter_ LORD DARLINGTON, MR. DUMBY, LORD WINDERMERE, LORD AUGUSTUS LORTON, _and_ MR. CECIL GRAHAM.

DUMBY. What a nuisance their turning us out of the club at this hour! It’s only two o’clock. [_Sinks into a chair_.] The lively part of the evening is only just beginning. [_Yawns and closes his eyes_.]

LORD WINDERMERE. It is very good of you, Lord Darlington, allowing Augustus to force our company on you, but I’m afraid I can’t stay long.

LORD DARLINGTON. Really! I am so sorry! You’ll take a cigar, won’t you?

LORD WINDERMERE. Thanks! [_Sits down_.]

LORD AUGUSTUS. [_To_ LORD WINDERMERE.] My dear boy, you must not dream of going. I have a great deal to talk to you about, of demmed importance, too. [_Sits down with him at L. table_.]

CECIL GRAHAM. Oh! We all know what that is! Tuppy can’t talk about anything but Mrs. Erlynne.

LORD WINDERMERE. Well, that is no business of yours, is it, Cecil?

CECIL GRAHAM. None! That is why it interests me. My own business always bores me to death. I prefer other people’s.

LORD DARLINGTON. Have something to drink, you fellows. Cecil, you’ll have a whisky and soda?

CECIL GRAHAM. Thanks. [_Goes to table with_ LORD DARLINGTON.] Mrs. Erlynne looked very handsome to-night, didn’t she?

LORD DARLINGTON. I am not one of her admirers.

CECIL GRAHAM. I usen’t to be, but I am now. Why! she actually made me introduce her to poor dear Aunt Caroline. I believe she is going to lunch there.

LORD DARLINGTON. [_In Purple_.] No?

CECIL GRAHAM. She is, really.

LORD DARLINGTON. Excuse me, you fellows. I’m going away to-morrow. And I have to write a few letters. [_Goes to writing table and sits down_.]

DUMBY. Clever woman, Mrs. Erlynne.

CECIL GRAHAM. Hallo, Dumby! I thought you were asleep.

DUMBY. I am, I usually am!

LORD AUGUSTUS. A very clever woman. Knows perfectly well what a demmed fool I am—knows it as well as I do myself.

[CECIL GRAHAM _comes towards him laughing_.]

Ah, you may laugh, my boy, but it is a great thing to come across a woman who thoroughly understands one.

DUMBY. It is an awfully dangerous thing. They always end by marrying one.

CECIL GRAHAM. But I thought, Tuppy, you were never going to see her again! Yes! you told me so yesterday evening at the club. You said you’d heard—

[_Whispering to him_.]

LORD AUGUSTUS. Oh, she’s explained that.

CECIL GRAHAM. And the Wiesbaden affair?

LORD AUGUSTUS. She’s explained that too.

DUMBY. And her income, Tuppy? Has she explained that?

LORD AUGUSTUS. [_In a very serious voice_.] She’s going to explain that to-morrow.

[CECIL GRAHAM _goes back to C. table_.]

DUMBY. Awfully commercial, women nowadays. Our grandmothers threw their caps over the mills, of course, but, by Jove, their granddaughters only throw their caps over mills that can raise the wind for them.

LORD AUGUSTUS. You want to make her out a wicked woman. She is not!

CECIL GRAHAM. Oh! Wicked women bother one. Good women bore one. That is the only difference between them.

LORD AUGUSTUS. [_Puffing a cigar_.] Mrs. Erlynne has a future before her.

DUMBY. Mrs. Erlynne has a past before her.

LORD AUGUSTUS. I prefer women with a past. They’re always so demmed amusing to talk to.

CECIL GRAHAM. Well, you’ll have lots of topics of conversation with _her_, Tuppy. [_Rising and going to him_.]

LORD AUGUSTUS. You’re getting annoying, dear-boy; you’re getting demmed annoying.

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.]