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1"I will tell you, Harry, but you mustn't be unsympathetic about it. After all, it never would have happened if I had not
2met you. You filled me with a wild desire to know everything about life. For days after I met you, something seemed to
3throb in my veins. As I lounged in the park, or strolled down Piccadilly, I used to look at every one who passed me and
4wonder, with a mad curiosity, what sort of lives they led. Some of them fascinated me. Others filled me with terror.
5There was an exquisite poison in the air. I had a passion for sensations.... Well, one evening about seven o'clock, I
6determined to go out in search of some adventure. I felt that this grey monstrous London of ours, with its myriads of
7people, its sordid sinners, and its splendid sins, as you once phrased it, must have something in store for me. I
8fancied a thousand things. The mere danger gave me a sense of delight. I remembered what you had said to me on that
9wonderful evening when we first dined together, about the search for beauty being the real secret of life. I don't know
10what I expected, but I went out and wandered eastward, soon losing my way in a labyrinth of grimy streets and black
11grassless squares. About half-past eight I passed by an absurd little theatre, with great flaring gas-jets and gaudy
12play-bills. A hideous Jew, in the most amazing waistcoat I ever beheld in my life, was standing at the entrance, smoking
13a vile cigar. He had greasy ringlets, and an enormous diamond blazed in the centre of a soiled shirt. 'Have a box, my
14Lord?' he said, when he saw me, and he took off his hat with an air of gorgeous servility. There was something about
15him, Harry, that amused me. He was such a monster. You will laugh at me, I know, but I really went in and paid a whole
16guinea for the stage-box. To the present day I can't make out why I did so; and yet if I hadn't--my dear Harry, if I
17hadn't--I should have missed the greatest romance of my life. I see you are laughing. It is horrid of you!" "I am not
18laughing, Dorian; at least I am not laughing at you. But you should not say the greatest romance of your life. You
19should say the first romance of your life. You will always be loved, and you will always be in love with love. A grande
20passion is the privilege of people who have nothing to do. That is the one use of the idle classes of a country. Don't
21be afraid. There are exquisite things in store for you. This is merely the beginning." "Do you think my nature so
22shallow?" cried Dorian Gray angrily. "No; I think your nature so deep." "How do you mean?" "My dear boy, the people who
23love only once in their lives are really the shallow people. What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I call
24either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination. Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to
25the life of the intellect--simply a confession of failure. Faithfulness! I must analyse it some day. The passion for
26property is in it. There are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up.
27But I don't want to interrupt you. Go on with your story." "Well, I found myself seated in a horrid little private box,
28with a vulgar drop-scene staring me in the face. I looked out from behind the curtain and surveyed the house. It was a
29tawdry affair, all Cupids and cornucopias, like a third-rate wedding-cake. The gallery and pit were fairly full, but the
30two rows of dingy stalls were quite empty, and there was hardly a person in what I suppose they called the dress-circle.
31Women went about with oranges and ginger-beer, and there was a terrible consumption of nuts going on." "It must have
32been just like the palmy days of the British drama." "Just like, I should fancy, and very depressing. I began to wonder
33what on earth I should do when I caught sight of the play-bill. What do you think the play was, Harry?" "I should think
34'The Idiot Boy', or 'Dumb but Innocent'. Our fathers used to like that sort of piece, I believe. The longer I live,
35Dorian, the more keenly I feel that whatever was good enough for our fathers is not good enough for us. In art, as in
36politics, les grandpères ont toujours tort." "This play was good enough for us, Harry. It was Romeo and Juliet. I must
37admit that I was rather annoyed at the idea of seeing Shakespeare done in such a wretched hole of a place. Still, I felt
38interested, in a sort of way. At any rate, I determined to wait for the first act. There was a dreadful orchestra,
39presided over by a young Hebrew who sat at a cracked piano, that nearly drove me away, but at last the drop-scene was
40drawn up and the play began. Romeo was a stout elderly gentleman, with corked eyebrows, a husky tragedy voice, and a
41figure like a beer-barrel. Mercutio was almost as bad. He was played by the low-comedian, who had introduced gags of his
42own and was on most friendly terms with the pit. They were both as grotesque as the scenery, and that looked as if it
43had come out of a country-booth. But Juliet! Harry, imagine a girl, hardly seventeen years of age, with a little,
44flowerlike face, a small Greek head with plaited coils of dark-brown hair, eyes that were violet wells of passion, lips
45that were like the petals of a rose. She was the loveliest thing I had ever seen in my life. You said to me once that
46pathos left you unmoved, but that beauty, mere beauty, could fill your eyes with tears. I tell you, Harry, I could
47hardly see this girl for the mist of tears that came across me. And her voice--I never heard such a voice. It was very
48low at first, with deep mellow notes that seemed to fall singly upon one's ear. Then it became a little louder, and
49sounded like a flute or a distant hautboy. In the garden-scene it had all the tremulous ecstasy that one hears just
50before dawn when nightingales are singing. There were moments, later on, when it had the wild passion of violins. You
51know how a voice can stir one. Your voice and the voice of Sibyl Vane are two things that I shall never forget. When I
52close my eyes, I hear them, and each of them says something different. I don't know which to follow. Why should I not
53love her? Harry, I do love her. She is everything to me in life. Night after night I go to see her play. One evening she
54is Rosalind, and the next evening she is Imogen. I have seen her die in the gloom of an Italian tomb, sucking the poison
55from her lover's lips. I have watched her wandering through the forest of Arden, disguised as a pretty boy in hose and
56doublet and dainty cap. She has been mad, and has come into the presence of a guilty king, and given him rue to wear and
57bitter herbs to taste of. She has been innocent, and the black hands of jealousy have crushed her reedlike throat. I
58have seen her in every age and in every costume. Ordinary women never appeal to one's imagination. They are limited to
59their century. No glamour ever transfigures them. One knows their minds as easily as one knows their bonnets. One can
60always find them. There is no mystery in any of them. They ride in the park in the morning and chatter at tea-parties in
61the afternoon. They have their stereotyped smile and their fashionable manner. They are quite obvious. But an actress!
62How different an actress is! Harry! why didn't you tell me that the only thing worth loving is an actress?" "Because I
63have loved so many of them, Dorian." "Oh, yes, horrid people with dyed hair and painted faces." "Don't run down dyed
64hair and painted faces. There is an extraordinary charm in them, sometimes," said Lord Henry. "I wish now I had not told
65you about Sibyl Vane." "You could not have helped telling me, Dorian. All through your life you will tell me everything
66you do." "Yes, Harry, I believe that is true. I cannot help telling you things. You have a curious influence over me. If
67I ever did a crime, I would come and confess it to you. You would understand me."
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