happiness.

Lady Bracknell. I would strongly advise you, Mr. Worthing, to try
and acquire some relations as soon as possible, and to make a
definite effort to produce at any rate one parent, of either sex,
before the season is quite over.

Jack. Well, I don't see how I could possibly manage to do that. I
can produce the hand-bag at any moment. It is in my dressing-room
at home. I really think that should satisfy you, Lady Bracknell.

Lady Bracknell. Me, sir! What has it to do with me? You can
hardly imagine that I and Lord Bracknell would dream of allowing our
only daughter--a girl brought up with the utmost care--to marry into
a cloak-room, and form an alliance with a parcel? Good morning, Mr.
Worthing!

[Lady Bracknell sweeps out in majestic indignation.]

Jack. Good morning! [Algernon, from the other room, strikes up the
Wedding March. Jack looks perfectly furious, and goes to the door.]
For goodness' sake don't play that ghastly tune, Algy. How idiotic
you are!

[The music stops and Algernon enters cheerily.]

Algernon. Didn't it go off all right, old boy? You don't mean to
say Gwendolen refused you? I know it is a way she has. She is
always refusing people. I think it is most ill-natured of her.