Free An Ideal Husband by Oscar Wilde

courage to come down, show you my wounds, tell you my weaknesses. I was afraid that I might lose your love, as I have lost it now. And so, last night you ruined my life for me—yes, ruined it! What this woman asked of me was nothing compared to what she offered to me. She offered security, peace, stability. The sin of my youth, that I had thought was buried, rose up in front of me, hideous, horrible, with its hands at my throat. I could have killed it for ever, sent it back into its tomb, destroyed its record, burned the one witness against me. You prevented me. No one but you, you know it. And now what is there before me but public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame, the mockery of the world, a lonely dishonoured life, a lonely dishonoured death, it may be, some day? Let women make no more ideals of men! let them not put them on alters and bow before them, or they may ruin other lives as completely as you—you whom I have 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, seem 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 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 your lordship complains of in the buttonhole.
    LORD GORING. Extraordinary thing about the lower classes in England—they are always losing their relations.
    PHIPPS. Yes, my lord! They are extremely