Cecily. Yes, I am Mr. Worthing's ward.

Gwendolen. Oh! It is strange he never mentioned to me that he had
a ward. How secretive of him! He grows more interesting hourly. I
am not sure, however, that the news inspires me with feelings of
unmixed delight. [Rising and going to her.] I am very fond of you,
Cecily; I have liked you ever since I met you! But I am bound to
state that now that I know that you are Mr. Worthing's ward, I
cannot help expressing a wish you were--well, just a little older
than you seem to be--and not quite so very alluring in appearance.
In fact, if I may speak candidly -

Cecily. Pray do! I think that whenever one has anything unpleasant
to say, one should always be quite candid.

Gwendolen. Well, to speak with perfect candour, Cecily, I wish that
you were fully forty-two, and more than usually plain for your age.
Ernest has a strong upright nature. He is the very soul of truth
and honour. Disloyalty would be as impossible to him as deception.
But even men of the noblest possible moral character are extremely
susceptible to the influence of the physical charms of others.
Modern, no less than Ancient History, supplies us with many most
painful examples of what I refer to. If it were not so, indeed,
History would be quite unreadable.

Cecily. I beg your pardon, Gwendolen, did you say Ernest?

Gwendolen. Yes.