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A monologue from the play by Oscar Wilde
Act 1, Scene 1
I haven’t the smallest intention of doing anything of the kind. To begin with, I dined there on Monday, and once a week is quite enough to dine with one’s own relations.
In the second place, whenever I do dine there, I am always treated as a member of the family, and sent down with either no woman at all, or two. In the third place, I know perfectly well who she will place me next to, to – night.
She will place me next to Mary Farquhar, who always flirts with her husband across the dinner – table. That is not very pleasant. Indeed, it is not even decent… and that sort of thing is enormously on the increase.
The amount of women in London who flirt with their husbands is perfectly scandalous. It looks so bad. It is simply washing one’s linen in public.
Besides, now that I know you to be a confirmed Bunburyist I naturally want to talk to you about Bunburying. I want to tell you the rules.