Algernon.
Didn’t it go off all right, old boy? You don’t mean to say
Gwendolen refused you? I know it is a way she has. She is always refusing
people. I think it is most ill-natured of her.
Jack.
Oh, Gwendolen is as right as a trivet.
As far as she is concerned, we
are engaged. Her mother is perfectly unbearable. Never met such a Gorgon
. . . I don’t really know what a Gorgon is like, but I am quite sure that Lady
Bracknell is one.
In any case, she is a monster, without being a myth, which
is rather unfair . . . I beg your pardon, Algy, I suppose I shouldn’t talk about
your own aunt in that way before you.
Algernon.
My dear boy, I love hearing my relations abused. It is the only
thing that makes me put up with them at all. Relations are simply a tedious
pack of people, who haven’t got the remotest knowledge of how to live, nor
the smallest instinct about when to die.
Jack.
Oh, that is nonsense!
Algernon.
It isn’t!
Jack.
Well, I won’t argue about the matter. You always want to
argue about
things.
Algernon.
That is exactly what things were originally made for.
Jack.
Upon my word, if I thought that, I’d shoot myself . . . [A pause.] You
don’t think there is any chance of Gwendolen
becoming like her mother in
about a hundred and fifty years, do you, Algy?
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