Lord Goring. George, your conversation is delightful, but your views are terribly unsound. You are always saying insincere things.
Lord Illingworth. If one tells the truth, one is sure sooner or later to be found out.
Lord Goring. Perhaps. The sky is like a hard hollow sapphire. It is too late to sleep. I shall go down to Covent Garden and look at the roses. Good-night, George! I have had such a pleasant evening!
DEATH IN THE CUP.
["The social duty of paying calls, refreshed, as it necessarily is, by frequent cups of tepid tea, is apparently little better than a process of slow poisoning."—Daily Graphic.]
"A word to you, Amanda mine!"
Oh, here's a pretty state of things! Whenever you go calling,
And take this deadly liquor and imbibe it without stint,