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so wildly loved - have ruined mine!

[He passes from the room. LADY CHILTERN rushes towards him, but the
door is closed when she reaches it. Pale with anguish, bewildered,
helpless, she sways like a plant in the water. Her hands,
outstretched, stem to tremble in the air like blossoms in the mind.
Then she flings herself down beside a sofa and buries her face. Her
sobs are like the sobs of a child.]

ACT DROP



THIRD ACT



SCENE

The Library in Lord Goring's house. An Adam room. On the right is
the door leading into the hall. On the left, the door of the
smoking-room. A pair of folding doors at the back open into the
drawing-room. The fire is lit. Phipps, the butler, is arranging
some newspapers on the writing-table. The distinction of Phipps is
his impassivity. He has been termed by enthusiasts the Ideal Butler.
The Sphinx is not so incommunicable. He is a mask with a manner. Of
his intellectual or emotional life, history knows nothing. He
represents the dominance of form.

[Enter LORD GORING in evening dress with a buttonhole. He is wearing
a silk hat and Inverness cape. White-gloved, he carries a Louis
Seize cane. His are all the delicate fopperies of Fashion. One sees
that he stands in immediate relation to modern life, makes it indeed,
and so masters it. He is the first well-dressed philosopher in the
history of thought.]

LORD GORING. Got my second buttonhole for me, Phipps?

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [Takes his hat, cane, and cape, and presents
new buttonhole on salver.]

LORD GORING. Rather distinguished thing, Phipps. I am the only
person of the smallest importance in London at present who wears a
buttonhole.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. I have observed that,

LORD GORING. [Taking out old buttonhole.] You see, Phipps, Fashion
is what one wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other
people wear.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. Just as vulgarity is simply the conduct of other
people.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. [Putting in a new buttonhole.] And falsehoods the
truths of other people.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible
society is oneself.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance,
Phipps.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. [Looking at himself in the glass.] Don't think I quite
like this buttonhole, Phipps. Makes me look a little too old. Makes
me almost in the prime of life, eh, Phipps?

PHIPPS. I don't observe any alteration in your lordship's
appearance.

LORD GORING. You don't, Phipps?

PHIPPS. No, my lord.

LORD GORING. I am not quite sure. For the future a more trivial
buttonhole, Phipps, on Thursday evenings.

PHIPPS. I will speak to the florist, my lord. She has had a loss in
her family lately, which perhaps accounts for the lack of triviality

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