Identify clothes mentioned in the scene below
Algernon. Yes, but you must be serious about it. I hate people who are not
serious about meals. It is so shallow of them.
[Enter Lane.]
Lane. Lady Bracknell and Miss Fairfax.
[Algernon goes forward to meet them. Enter Lady
Bracknell and Gwendolen.]
Lady Bracknell. Good afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope you are behaving
very well.
Algernon. I’m feeling very well, Aunt Augusta.
Lady Bracknell. That’s not quite the same thing. In fact the two things
rarely go together. [Sees Jack and bows to him with icy coldness.]
Algernon. [To Gwendolen.] Dear me, you are smart!
Gwendolen. I am always smart! Am I not, Mr. Worthing?
Jack. You’re quite perfect, Miss Fairfax.
Gwendolen. Oh! I hope I am not that. It would leave no room for
developments, and I intend to develop in many
directions. [Gwendolen and Jack sit down together in the corner.]
Lady Bracknell. I’m sorry if we are a little late, Algernon, but I was obliged
to call on dear Lady Harbury. I hadn’t been there since her poor husband’s
death. I never saw a woman so altered; she looks quite twenty years
younger. And now I’ll have a cup of tea, and one of those nice cucumber
sandwiches you promised me.
Algernon. Certainly, Aunt Augusta. [Goes over to tea-table.]
Lady Bracknell. Won’t you come and sit here, Gwendolen?
Gwendolen. Thanks, mamma, I’m quite comfortable where I am.
Algernon. [Picking up empty plate in horror.] Good heavens! Lane! Why
are there no cucumber sandwiches? I ordered them specially.
11
Lane. [Gravely.] There were no cucumbers in the market this morning, sir. I
went down twice.
Algernon. No cucumbers!
Lane. No, sir. Not even for ready money.
Algernon. That will do, Lane, thank you.
Lane. Thank you, sir. [Goes out.]
Algernon. I am greatly distressed, Aunt Augusta, about there being no
cucumbers, not even for ready money.
Lady Bracknell. It really makes no matter, Algernon. I had some crumpets
with Lady Harbury, who seems to me to be living entirely for pleasure now.
Algernon. I hear her hair has turned quite gold from grief.
Lady Bracknell. It certainly has changed its colour. From what cause I, of
course, cannot say. [Algernon crosses and hands tea.] Thank you. I’ve
quite a treat for you to-night, Algernon. I am going to send you down with
Mary Farquhar. She is such a nice woman, and so attentive to her
husband. It’s delightful to watch them.
Algernon. I am afraid, Aunt Augusta, I shall have to give up the pleasure of
dining with you to-night after all.
Lady Bracknell. [Frowning.] I hope not, Algernon. It would put my table
completely out. Your uncle would have to dine upstairs. Fortunately he is
accustomed to that.
Algernon. It is a great bore, and, I need hardly say, a terrible
disappointment to me, but the fact is I have just had a telegram to say that
my poor friend Bunbury is very ill again. [Exchanges glances
with Jack.] They seem to think I should be with him.
Lady Bracknell. It is very strange. This Mr. Bunbury seems to suffer from
curiously bad health.
Algernon. Yes; poor Bunbury is a dreadful invalid.
12
Lady Bracknell. Well, I must say, Algernon, that I think it is high time that
Mr. Bunbury made up his mind whether he was going to live or to die. This
shilly-shallying with the question is absurd. Nor do I in any way approve of
the modern sympathy with invalids. I consider it morbid. Illness of any kind
is hardly a thing to be encouraged in others. Health is the primary duty of
life. I am always telling that to your poor uncle, but he never seems to take
much notice . . . as far as any improvement in his ailment goes. I should be
much obliged if you would ask Mr. Bunbury, from me, to be kind enough not
to have a relapse on Saturday, for I rely on you to arrange my music for
me. It is my last reception, and one wants something that will encourage
conversation, particularly at the end of the season when every one has
practically said whatever they had to say, which, in most cases, was
probably not much.
Algernon. I’ll speak to Bunbury, Aunt Augusta, if he is still conscious, and I
think I can promise you he’ll be all right by Saturday. Of course the music is
a great difficulty. You see, if one plays good music, people don’t listen, and
if one plays bad music people don’t talk. But I’ll run over the programme
I’ve drawn out, if you will kindly come into the next room for a moment.
Lady Bracknell. Thank you, Algernon. It is very thoughtful of you. [Rising,
and following Algernon.] I’m sure the programme will be delightful, after a
few expurgations. French songs I cannot possibly allow. People always
seem to think that they are improper, and either look shocked, which is
vulgar, or laugh, which is worse. But German sounds a thoroughly
respectable language, and indeed, I believe is so. Gwendolen, you will
accompany me.
Gwendolen. Certainly, mamma.
[Lady Bracknell and Algernon go into the music-room, Gwendolen remains
behind.]
Jack. Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax.
Gwendolen. Pray don’t talk to me about the weather, Mr.
Worthing. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I always feel
13
quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me so
nervous.
Jack. I do mean something else.
Gwendolen. I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong.
Jack. And I would like to be allowed to take advantage of Lady Bracknell’s
temporary absence . . .
Gwendolen. I would certainly advise you to do so. Mamma has a way of
coming back suddenly into a room that I have often had to speak to her
about.
Jack. [Nervously.] Miss Fairfax, ever since I met you I have admired you
more than any girl . . . I have ever met since . . . I met you.
Gwendolen. Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact. And I often wish that in
public, at any rate, you had been more demonstrative. For me you have
always had an irresistible fascination. Even before I met you I was far from
indifferent to you. [Jack looks at her in amazement.] We live, as I hope you
know, Mr. Worthing, in an age of ideals. The fact is constantly mentioned in
the more expensive monthly magazines, and has reached the provincial
pulpits, I am told; and my ideal has always been to love some one of the
name of Ernest. There is something in that name that inspires absolute
confidence. The moment Algernon first mentioned to me that he had a
friend called Ernest, I knew I was destined to love you.
Jack. You really love me, Gwendolen?
Gwendolen. Passionately!
Jack. Darling! You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.
Gwendolen. My own Ernest!
Jack. But you don’t really mean to say that you couldn’t love me if my name
wasn’t Ernest?
Gwendolen. But your name is Ernest.
14
Jack. Yes, I know it is. But supposing it was something else? Do you mean
to say you couldn’t love me then?
Gwendolen. [Glibly.] Ah! that is clearly a metaphysical speculation, and like
most metaphysical speculations has very little reference at all to the actual
facts of real life, as we know them.
Jack. Personally, darling, to speak quite candidly, I don’t much care about
the name of Ernest . . . I don’t think the name suits me at all.
Gwendolen. It suits you perfectly. It is a divine name. It has a music of its
own. It produces vibrations.
Jack. Well, really, Gwendolen, I must say that I think there are lots of other
much nicer names. I think Jack, for instance, a charming name.
Gwendolen. Jack? . . . No, there is very little music in the name Jack, if any at
all, indeed. It does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations . . . I have
known several Jacks, and they all, without exception, were more than
usually plain. Besides, Jack is a notorious domesticity for John! And I pity
any woman who is married to a man called John. She would probably never
be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment’s
solitude. The only really safe name is Ernest.
Jack. Gwendolen, I must get christened at once—I mean we must get
married at once. There is no time to be lost.
Gwendolen. Married, Mr. Worthing?
Jack. [Astounded.] Well . . . surely. You know that I love you, and you led
me to believe, Miss Fairfax, that you were not absolutely indifferent to me.
Gwendolen. I adore you. But you haven’t proposed to me yet. Nothing has
been said at all about marriage. The subject has not even been touched on.
Jack. Well . . . may I propose to you now?
Gwendolen. I think it would be an admirable opportunity. And to spare you
any possible disappointment, Mr. Worthing, I think it only fair to tell you
quite frankly before-hand that I am fully determined to accept you.
The scene does not mention any specific clothing.
Clothes mentioned in the scene:
- Lady Bracknell is mentioned wearing a hat and gloves.
- Gwendolen is mentioned as always being smart, but no specific clothing item is mentioned.
- Algernon is mentioned as finding Gwendolen smart, but no specific clothing item is mentioned.
In the scene described, the following clothes are mentioned:
- Lady Bracknell and Gwendolen are both present in the scene, but no specific details are given about their attire.
- Algernon comments on Gwendolen's appearance, saying, "Dear me, you are smart!"
- Gwendolen responds, "I am always smart! Am I not, Mr. Worthing?"
- Algernon exclaims, "Good heavens! Lane! Why are there no cucumber sandwiches? I ordered them specially."
- Lane, the butler, tells Algernon, "There were no cucumbers in the market this morning, sir. I went down twice."
Although there are references to clothes and food in this scene, the specific details of the characters' attire are not provided.