ALGERNON.
But, my dear child, do you mean to say you could not love me if I had some other name?

CECILY.
But what name?

ALGERNON.
Oh, any name you like—Algernon—for instance . . .

CECILY.
But I don’t like the name of Algernon.

ALGERNON.
Well, my own dear, sweet, loving little darling, I really can’t see why you should object to the name of Algernon. It is not at all a bad name. In fact, it is rather an aristocratic name. Half of the chaps who get into the Bankruptcy Court are called Algernon. But seriously, Cecily . . . [Moving to her] . . . if my name was Algy, couldn’t you love me?

CECILY.
[Rising.] I might respect you, Ernest, I might admire your character, but I fear that I should not be able to give you my undivided attention.

ALGERNON.
Ahem! Cecily! [Picking up hat.] Your Rector here is, I suppose, thoroughly experienced in the practice of all the rites and ceremonials of the Church?

CECILY.
Oh, yes. Dr. Chasuble is a most learned man. He has never written a single book, so you can imagine how much he knows.

ALGERNON.
I must see him at once on a most important christening—I mean on most important business.

CECILY.
Oh!