A Woman of No Importance

it to me. Lord Illingworth It is addressed to me. Mrs. Arbuthnot You are not to open it. I forbid you to open it. Lord Illingworth And in Gerald’s handwriting. Mrs. Arbuthnot It was not to have been sent. It is a letter he wrote to you this morning, before he saw me. But he is sorry now he wrote it, very sorry. You are not to open it. Give it to me. Lord Illingworth It belongs to me. Opens it, sits down and reads it slowly. Mrs. Arbuthnot watches him all the time. You have read this letter, I suppose, Rachel? Mrs. Arbuthnot No. Lord Illingworth You know what is in it? Mrs. Arbuthnot Yes! Lord Illingworth I don’t admit for a moment that the boy is right in what he says. I don’t admit that it is any duty of mine to marry you. I deny it entirely. But to get my son back I am ready⁠—yes, I am ready to marry you, Rachel⁠—and to treat you always with the deference and respect due to my wife. I will marry you as soon as you choose. I give you my word of honour. Mrs. Arbuthnot You made that promise to me once before and broke it. Lord Illingworth I will keep it now. And that will show you that I love my son, at least as much as you love him. For when I marry you, Rachel, there are some ambitions I shall have to surrender. High ambitions, too, if any ambition is high. Mrs. Arbuthnot I decline to marry you, Lord Illingworth. Lord Illingworth Are you serious? Mrs. Arbuthnot Yes. Lord Illingworth Do tell me your reasons. They would interest me enormously. Mrs. Arbuthnot I have already explained them to my son. Lord Illingworth I suppose they were intensely sentimental, weren’t they? You women live by your emotions and for them. You have no philosophy of life. Mrs. Arbuthnot You are right. We women live by our emotions and for them. By our passions, and for them, if you will. I have two passions, Lord Illingworth: my love of him, my hate of you. You cannot kill those. They feed each other. Lord Illingworth What sort of love is that which needs to have hate as its brother? Mrs. Arbuthnot It is the sort of love I have for Gerald. Do you think that terrible? Well it is terrible. All love is terrible. All love is a tragedy. I loved you once, Lord Illingworth. Oh, what a tragedy for a woman to have loved you! Lord Illingworth So you really refuse to marry me? Mrs. Arbuthnot Yes. Lord Illingworth Because you hate me? Mrs. Arbuthnot Yes. Lord Illingworth And does my son hate me as you do? Mrs. Arbuthnot No. Lord Illingworth I am glad of that, Rachel. Mrs. Arbuthnot He merely despises you. Lord Illingworth What a pity! What a pity for him, I mean. Mrs. Arbuthnot Don’t be deceived, George. Children begin by loving their parents. After a time they judge them. Rarely if ever do they forgive them. Lord Illingworth Reads letter over again, very slowly. May I ask by what arguments you made the boy who wrote this letter, this beautiful, passionate letter, believe that you should not marry his father, the father of your own child? Mrs. Arbuthnot It was not I who made him see it. It was another. Lord Illingworth What fin de siècle person? Mrs. Arbuthnot The Puritan, Lord Illingworth. A pause. Lord Illingworth Winces, then rises slowly and goes over to table where his hat and gloves are. Mrs. Arbuthnot is standing close to the table. He picks up one of the gloves, and begins pulling it on. There is not much then for me to do here, Rachel? Mrs. Arbuthnot Nothing. Lord Illingworth It is goodbye, is it? Mrs. Arbuthnot Forever, I hope, this time, Lord Illingworth. Lord Illingworth How curious! At this moment you look exactly as you looked the night you left me twenty years ago. You have just the same expression in your mouth. Upon my word, Rachel, no woman ever loved me as you did. Why, you gave yourself to me like a flower, to do anything I liked with. You were the prettiest of playthings, the most fascinating of small romances⁠ ⁠… Pulls out watch. Quarter to two! Must be strolling back to Hunstanton. Don’t suppose I shall see you there again. I’m sorry, I am, really. It’s been an amusing experience to have met amongst people of one’s own rank, and treated quite seriously too, one’s mistress, and one’s⁠— Mrs. Arbuthnot snatches up glove and strikes Lord Illingworth across the face with it. Lord Illingworth starts. He is dazed by the insult of his punishment. Then he controls himself, and goes to window and looks out at his son. Sighs and leaves the room. Mrs. Arbuthnot Falls sobbing on the sofa. He would have said it. He would have said it. Enter Gerald and Hester from the garden. Gerald Well, dear mother. You never came out after all. So we have come in to fetch you. Mother, you have not been crying? Kneels down beside her. Mrs. Arbuthnot My boy! My boy! My boy! Running her fingers through his hair. Hester Coming over. But you have two children now. You’ll let me be your daughter? Mrs. Arbuthnot Looking up. Would you choose me for a mother? Hester You of all women I have ever known. They move towards the door leading into garden with their arms round each other’s waists. Gerald goes to table L.C. for his hat. On turning round he sees Lord Illingworth’s glove lying on the floor, and picks it up. Gerald Hallo, mother, whose glove is this? You have had a visitor. Who was it? Mrs. Arbuthnot Turning round. Oh! no one. No one in particular. A man of no importance.

Curtain

Colophon

A Woman of No Importance
was published in 1893 by
Oscar Wilde.

This ebook was produced for
Standard Ebooks
by
Brendan Fattig,
and is based on a transcription produced in 1997 by
David Price
for
Project