An Ideal Husband
by Oscar Wilde
That is why it has no future before it, in this world.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And women represent the irrational.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Well-dressed women do.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With a polite bow.] I fear I could hardly agree with you there. But do sit down. And now tell me, what makes you leave your brilliant Vienna for our gloomy London - or perhaps the question is indiscreet?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Well, at any rate, may I know if it is politics or pleasure?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Politics are my only pleasure. You see nowadays it is not fashionable to flirt till one is forty, or to be romantic till one is forty-five, so we poor women who are under thirty, or say we are, have nothing open to us but politics or philanthropy. And philanthropy seems to me to have become simply the refuge of people who wish to annoy their fellow-creatures. I prefer politics. I think they are more . . . becoming!
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. A political life is a noble career!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Sometimes. And sometimes it is a clever game, Sir Robert. And sometimes it is a great nuisance.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Which do you find it?
MRS. CHEVELEY. I? A combination of all three. [Drops her fan.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Picks up fan.] Allow me!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But you have not told me yet what makes you honour London so suddenly. Our season is almost over.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! I don't care about the London season! It is too matrimonial. People are either hunting for husbands, or hiding from them. I wanted to meet you. It is quite true. You know what a woman's curiosity is. Almost as great as a man's! I wanted immensely to meet you, and . . . to ask you to do something for me.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope it is not a little thing, Mrs. Cheveley. I find that little things are so very difficult to do.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [After a moment's reflection.] No, I don't think it is quite a little thing.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am so glad. Do tell me what it is.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Later on. [Rises.] And now may I walk through your beautiful house? I hear your pictures are charming. Poor Baron Arnheim - you remember the Baron? - used to tell me you had some wonderful Corots.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With an almost imperceptible start.] Did you know Baron Arnheim well?
MRS. CHEVELEY. [Smiling.] Intimately. Did you?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. At one time.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Wonderful man, wasn't he?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [After a pause.] He was very remarkable, in many ways.
MRS. CHEVELEY. I often think it such a pity he never wrote his memoirs. They would have been most interesting.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes: he knew men and cities well, like the old Greek.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Without the dreadful disadvantage of having a Penelope waiting at home for him.
MASON. Lord Goring.
[Enter LORD GORING. Thirty-four, but always says he is younger. A well-bred, expressionless face. He is clever, but would not like to be thought so. A flawless dandy, he would be annoyed if he were considered romantic. He plays with life, and is on perfectly good terms with the world. He is fond of being misunderstood. It gives him a post of vantage.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.