Jack. Bunburyist? What on earth do you mean by a Bunburyist?
Algernon. I’ll reveal to you the meaning of that incomparable expression as
soon as you are kind enough to inform me why you are Ernest in town and
Jack in the country.
Jack. Well, produce my cigarette case first.
Algernon. Here it is. [Hands cigarette case.] Now produce your
explanation, and pray make it improbable. [Sits on sofa.]
Jack. My dear fellow, there is nothing improbable about my explanation at
all. In fact it’s perfectly ordinary. Old Mr. Thomas Cardew, who adopted me
when I was a little boy, made me in his will guardian to his grand-daughter,
Miss Cecily Cardew. Cecily, who addresses me as her uncle from motives of
respect that you could not possibly appreciate, lives at my place in the
country under the charge of her admirable governess, Miss Prism.
Algernon. Where is that place in the country, by the way?
Jack. That is nothing to you, dear boy. You are not going to be invited . . . I
may tell you candidly that the place is not in Shropshire.
Algernon. I suspected that, my dear fellow! I have Bunburyed all over
Shropshire on two separate occasions. Now, go on. Why are you Ernest in
town and Jack in the country?
Jack. My dear Algy, I don’t know whether you will be able to understand my
real motives. You are hardly serious enough. When one is placed in the
position of guardian, one has to adopt a very high moral tone on all
subjects. It’s one’s duty to do so. And as a high moral tone can hardly be
said to conduce very much to either one’s health or one’s happiness, in
order to get up to town I have always pretended to have a younger brother
of the name of Ernest, who lives in the Albany, and gets into the most
dreadful scrapes. That, my dear Algy, is the whole truth pure and simple.
8
Algernon. The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern life would be
very tedious if it were either, and modern literature a complete impossibility!