Mrs. Allonby. They say, Lady Hunstanton, that when good Americans die they go to Paris.
Lady Hunstanton. Indeed? And when bad Americans die, where do they go to?
Lord Illingworth. Oh, they go to America.#5844•
The English country gentleman galloping after a fox—the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.#5865•
Lord Illingworth. Not in our day. Women have become too brilliant. Nothing spoils a romance so much as a sense of humour in the woman.#5866•
Lord Illingworth. What do you call a bad man?
Mrs. Allonby. The sort of man who admires innocence.
Lord Illingworth. And a bad woman?
Mrs. Allonby. Oh! the sort of woman a man never gets tired of.#5878•
Mrs. Allonby. Define us as a sex.
Lord Illingworth. Sphinxes without secrets.#5857•
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Lord Illingworth. With the greatest pleasure. [To Mrs. Allonby.] I'll be back in a moment. People's mothers always bore me to death. All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy.
Mrs. Allonby. No man does. That is his.#5842•
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Mrs. Arbuthnot. Men don't understand what mothers are. I am no different from other women except in the wrong done me and the wrong I did, and my very heavy punishments and great disgrace. And yet, to bear you I had to look on death. To nurture you I had to wrestle with it. Death fought with me for you. All women have to fight with death to keep their children. Death, being childless, wants our children from us. Gerald, when you were naked I clothed you, when you were hungry I gave you food. Night and day all that long winter I tended you. No office is too mean, no care too lowly for the thing we women love—and oh! how I loved you. Not Hannah, Samuel more. And you needed love, for you were weakly, and only love could have kept you alive. Only love can keep any one alive. And boys are careless often and without thinking give pain, and we always fancy that when they come to man's estate and know us better they will repay us. But it is not so. The world draws them from our side, and they make friends with whom they are happier than they are with us, and have amusements from which we are barred, and interests that are not ours: and they are unjust to us often, for when they find life bitter they blame us for it, and when they find it sweet we do not taste its sweetness with them .
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You made many friends and went into their houses and were glad with them, and I, knowing my secret, did not dare to follow, but stayed at home and closed the door, shut out the sun and sat in darkness. What should I have done in honest households? My past was ever with me.
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And you thought I didn't care for the pleasant things of life. I tell you I longed for them, but did not dare to touch them, feeling I had no right. You thought I was happier working amongst the poor. That was my mission, you imagined. It was not, but where else was I to go? The sick do not ask if the hand that smooths their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the lips that touch their brow have known the kiss of sin. It was you I thought of all the time; I gave to them the love you did not need: lavished on them a love that was not theirs .
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And you thought I spent too much of my time in going to Church, and in Church duties. But where else could I turn? God's house is the only house where sinners are made welcome, and you were always in my heart, Gerald, too much in my heart. For, though day after day, at morn or evensong, I have knelt in God's house, I have never repented of my sin. How could I repent of my sin when you, my love, were its fruit! Even now that you are bitter to me I cannot repent. I do not. You are more to me than innocence. I would rather be your mother—oh! much rather!—than have been always pure .
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Oh, don't you see? don't you understand? It is my dishonour that has made you so dear to me. It is my disgrace that has bound you so closely to me. It is the price I paid for you—the price of soul and body—that makes me love you as I do. Oh, don't ask me to do this horrible thing. Child of my shame, be still the child of my shame#5864•
Lord Illingworth. You have grown hard, Rachel.
Mrs. Arbuthnot. I was too weak once. It is well for me that I have changed.
Lord Illingworth. I was very young at the time. We men know life too early.
Mrs. Arbuthnot. And we women know life too late. That is the difference between men and women. [A pause.]#5850•