Act I - Page 2

can't look at her: if he does, he only finds
out that she isn't beautiful. Before the end of five minutes they
are both hideously bored. There's only one thing that can save
the situation; and that's what you call being horrid. With a
beautiful, witty, kind woman, there's no time for such follies.
It's so delightful to look at her, to listen to her voice, to
hear all she has to say, that nothing else happens. That is why
the woman who is supposed to have a thousand lovers seldom has
one; whilst the stupid, graceless animals of women have dozens.

MRS. JUNO. I wonder! It's quite true that when one feels in
danger one talks like mad to stave it off, even when one doesn't
quite want to stave it off.

GREGORY. One never does quite want to stave it off. Danger is
delicious. But death isn't. We court the danger; but the real
delight is in escaping, after all.

MRS. JUNO. I don't think we'll talk about it any more. Danger is
all very well when you do escape; but sometimes one doesn't. I
tell you frankly I don't feel as safe as you do--if you really
do.

GREGORY. But surely you can do as you please without injuring
anyone, Mrs. Juno. That is the whole secret of your extraordinary
charm for me.

MRS. JUNO. I don't understand.

GREGORY. Well, I hardly know how to begin to explain. But the
root of the matter is that I am what people call a good man.

MRS. JUNO. I thought so until you began making love to me.

GREGORY. But you knew I loved you all along.

MRS. JUNO. Yes, of course; but I depended on you not to tell me
so; because I thought you were good. Your blurting it out spoilt
it. And it was wicked besides.

GREGORY. Not at all. You see, it's a great many years since I've
been able to allow myself to fall in love. I know lots of
charming women; but the worst of it is, they're all married.
Women don't become charming, to my taste, until they're fully
developed; and by that time, if they're really nice, they're
snapped up and married. And then, because I am a good man, I have
to place a limit to my regard for them. I may be fortunate enough
to gain friendship and even very warm affection from them; but my
loyalty to their husbands and their hearths and their happiness
obliges me to draw a line and not overstep it. Of course I value
such affectionate regard very highly indeed. I am surrounded with
women who are most dear to me. But every one of them has a post
sticking up, if I may put it that way, with the inscription
Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted. How we all loathe that notice! In
every lovely garden, in every dell full of primroses, on every
fair hillside, we meet that confounded board; and there is always
a gamekeeper round the corner. But