Vulgar habit that is people have nowadays of asking one, after one
has given them an idea, whether one is serious or not. Nothing is
serious except passion. The intellect is not a serious thing, and
never has been. It is an instrument on which one plays, that is
all. The only serious form of intellect I know is the British
intellect. And on the British intellect the illiterates play the
drum.

LADY HUNSTANTON. What are you saying, Lord Illingworth, about the
drum?

LORD ILLINGWORTH. I was merely talking to Mrs. Allonby about the
leading articles in the London newspapers.

LADY HUNSTANTON. But do you believe all that is written in the
newspapers?

LORD ILLINGWORTH. I do. Nowadays it is only the unreadable that
occurs. [Rises with MRS. ALLONBY.]

LADY HUNSTANTON. Are you going, Mrs. Allonby?

MRS. ALLONBY. Just as far as the conservatory. Lord Illingworth
told me this morning that there was an orchid there m beautiful as
the seven deadly sins.

LADY HUNSTANTON. My dear, I hope there is nothing of the kind. I
will certainly speak to the gardener.

[Exit MRS. ALLONBY and LORD ILLINGWORTH.]