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66 pages

English

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Read & Co. Classics presents this brand new edition of Oscar Wilde's famous play, "The Importance of Being Earnest", first performed in London in 1895. The play questions the nature and purpose of the institution of marriage, poking fun at the morals, assumptions and constraints found in Victorian values. During the play’s release, Wilde’s social life was aired to the Victorian public after an altercation with his lover’s father, resulting in him being sent to prison for his homosexual relationship. Oscar Wilde (1884-1900) was an Irish author, playwright and poet. He moved from Dublin to Oxford where he studied under renowned art critics Walter Pater and John Ruskin and became associated with the literary and philosophical movement of Aestheticism.

Informations

Publié par	Read Books Ltd.
Date de parution	21 août 2018
Nombre de lectures	2
EAN13	9781528785822
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0350€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST
By
OSCAR WILDE

First published in 1895

This edition published by Read Books Ltd. Copyright © 2018 Read Books Ltd. This book is copyright and may not be
reproduced or copied in any way without
the express permission of the publisher in writing
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Contents
Oscar Wilde
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST
THE PERSONS IN THE PLAY
THE SCENES OF THE PLAY
FIRST ACT
SECOND ACT
THIRD ACT

Oscar Wilde
Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde was born in Dublin in 1854. His parents were successful Dublin intellectuals, and Wilde became fluent in French and German early in life. He studied at Trinity College, Dublin, and subsequently won a scholarship to Magdalen College, Oxford, where he was heavily influenced by John Ruskin and Walter Pate. Wilde proved himself to be an outstanding classicist. After university, he moved to London and became involved with the fashionable cultural and social circles of the day. At the age of just 25 he was well-known as a wit and a dandy, and as a spokesman for aestheticism – an artistic movement that emphasized aesthetic values ahead of socio-political themes – he undertook a lecture tour to the United States in 1882, before eventually returning to London to try his hand at journalism. It was also around this time that he produced most of his well-known short fiction.
In 1891, Wilde published The Picture of Dorian Gray, his only novel. Reviewers criticised the novel's decadence and homosexual allusions, although it was popular nonetheless. From 1892, Wilde focussed on playwriting. In that year, he gained commercial and critical success with Lady Windermere's Fan, and followed it with the comedy A Woman of No Importance (1893) and An Ideal Husband (1895). Then came Wilde's most famous play, The Importance of Being Earnest – a farcical comedy which cemented his artistic reputation and is now seen as his masterpiece.
In 1895, the Marquess of Queensbury, who objected to his son spending so much time with Wilde because of Wilde's flamboyant behaviour and homosexual reputation, publicly insulted him. In response, Wilde brought an unsuccessful slander suit against him. The result of this inability to prove slander was his own trial on charges of sodomy, and the revealing to the transfixed Victorian public of salacious details of Wilde's private life followed, including his association with blackmailers and male prostitutes, cross-dressers and homosexual brothels. Wilde was found guilty of sodomy and sentenced to two years of hard labour.
Wilde was released from prison in 1897, having suffered from a number of ailments and injuries. He left England the next day for the continent, to spend his last three years in penniless exile. He settled in Paris, and didn't write anymore, declaring “I can write, but have lost the joy of writing.” Wilde died of cerebral meningitis on in November of 1900, converting to Catholicism on his deathbed.

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST
A Trivial Comedy for Serious People
THE PERSONS IN THE PLAY
John Worthing, J.P.
Algernon Moncrieff
Rev. Canon Chasuble, D.D.
Merriman, Butler
Lane, Manservant
Lady Bracknell
Hon. Gwendolen Fairfax
Cecily Cardew
Miss Prism, Governess
THE SCENES OF THE PLAY
ACT I. Algernon Moncrieff’s Flat in Half-Moon Street, W.
ACT II. The Garden at the Manor House, Woolton.
ACT III. Drawing-Room at the Manor House, Woolton.
TIME: The Present.
LONDON: ST. JAMES’S THEATRE
Lessee and Manager: Mr. George Alexander
February 14th, 1895
* * * * *
John Worthing, J.P.: Mr. George Alexander.
Algernon Moncrieff: Mr. Allen Aynesworth.
Rev. Canon Chasuble, D.D.: Mr. H. H. Vincent.
Merriman: Mr. Frank Dyall.
Lane: Mr. F. Kinsey Peile.
Lady Bracknell: Miss Rose Leclercq.
Hon. Gwendolen Fairfax: Miss Irene Vanbrugh.
Cecily Cardew: Miss Evelyn Millard.
Miss Prism: Mrs. George Canninge.

FIRST ACT
SCENE
Morning-room in Algernon’s flat in Half-Moon Street. The room is luxuriously and artistically furnished. The sound of a piano is heard in the adjoining room.
[ Lane is arranging afternoon tea on the table, and after the music has ceased, Alger non enters.]
ALGERNON. Did you hear what I was pl aying, Lane?
LANE. I didn’t think it polite to listen, sir.
ALGERNON. I’m sorry for that, for your sake. I don’t play accurately—any one can play accurately—but I play with wonderful expression. As far as the piano is concerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep scien ce for Life.
LANE. Yes, sir.
ALGERNON. And, speaking of the science of Life, have you got the cucumber sandwiches cut for Lad y Bracknell?
LANE. Yes, sir. [Hands them o n a salver.]
ALGERNON. [Inspects them, takes two, and sits down on the sofa.] Oh! . . . by the way, Lane, I see from your book that on Thursday night, when Lord Shoreman and Mr. Worthing were dining with me, eight bottles of champagne are entered as having be en consumed.
LANE. Yes, sir; eight bottles and a pint.
ALGERNON. Why is it that at a bachelor’s establishment the servants invariably drink the champagne? I ask merely for information.
LANE. I attribute it to the superior quality of the wine, sir. I have often observed that in married households the champagne is rarely of a first -rate brand.
ALGERNON. Good heavens! Is marriage so demoralis ing as that?
LANE. I believe it is a very pleasant state, sir. I have had very little experience of it myself up to the present. I have only been married once. That was in consequence of a misunderstanding between myself and a y oung person.
ALGERNON. [Languidly . ] I don’t know that I am much interested in your family life, Lane.
LANE. No, sir; it is not a very interesting subject. I never think o f it myself.
ALGERNON. Very natural, I am sure. That will do, Lane , thank you.
LANE. Thank you, sir. [ LAN E goes out.]
ALGERNON. Lane’s views on marriage seem somewhat lax. Really, if the lower orders don’t set us a good example, what on earth is the use of them? They seem, as a class, to have absolutely no sense of moral res ponsibility.
[Enter LANE .]
LANE. Mr. Erne st Worthing.
[Enter JACK .]
[ LAN E goes out . ]
ALGERNON. How are you, my dear Ernest? What brings you up to town?
JACK. Oh, pleasure, pleasure! What else should bring one anywhere? Eating as usual, I see, Algy!
ALGERNON. [Stiffly . ] I believe it is customary in good society to take some slight refreshment at five o’clock. Where have you been since la st Thursday?
JACK. [Sitting down on the sofa.] In the country.
ALGERNON. What on earth do y ou do there?
JACK. [Pulling off his gloves . ] When one is in town one amuses oneself. When one is in the country one amuses other people. It is excessi vely boring.
ALGERNON. And who are the peopl e you amuse?
JACK. [Airily . ] Oh, neighbours, neighbours.
ALGERNON. Got nice neighbours in your part of Shropshire?
JACK. Perfectly horrid! Never speak to one of them.
ALGERNON. How immensely you must amuse them! [Goes over and takes sandwich.] By the way, Shropshire is your county , is it not?
JACK. Eh? Shropshire? Yes, of course. Hallo! Why all these cups? Why cucumber sandwiches? Why such reckless extravagance in one so young? Who is co ming to tea?
ALGERNON. Oh! merely Aunt Augusta an d Gwendolen.
JACK. How perfectly delightful!
ALGERNON. Yes, that is all very well; but I am afraid Aunt Augusta won’t quite approve of your being here.
JACK. Ma y I ask why?
ALGERNON. My dear fellow, the way you flirt with Gwendolen is perfectly disgraceful. It is almost as bad as the way Gwendolen flir ts with you.
JACK. I am in love with Gwendolen. I have come up to town expressly to pro pose to her.
ALGERNON. I thought you had come up for pleasure? . . . I call th at business.
JACK. How utterly unroman tic you are!
ALGERNON. I really don’t see anything romantic in proposing. It is very romantic to be in love. But there is nothing romantic about a definite proposal. Why, one may be accepted. One usually is, I believe. Then the excitement is all over. The very essence of romance is uncertainty. If ever I get married, I’ll certainly try to forg et the fact.
JACK. I have no doubt about that, dear Algy. The Divorce Court was specially invented for people whose memories are so curiously constituted.
ALGERNON. Oh! there is no use speculating on that subject. Divorces are made in Heaven—[ JACK puts out his hand to take a sandwich. ALGERNON at once interferes.] Please don’t touch the cucumber sandwiches. They are ordered specially for Aunt Augusta. [Takes one a nd eats it.]
JACK. Well, you have been eating them a ll the time.
ALGERNON. That is quite a different matter. She is my aunt. [Takes plate from below.] Have some bread and butter. The bread and butter is for Gwendolen. Gwendolen is devoted to bread and butter.
JACK. [Advancing to table and helping himself.] And very good bread and butte r it is too.
ALGERNON. Well, my dear fellow, you need not eat as if you were going to eat it all. You behave as if you were married to her already. You are not married to her already, and I don’t think you e ver will be.
JACK. Why on earth do y ou say that?
ALGERNON. Well, in the first place girls never marry the men they flirt with.