Basil: There. I'll fetch us some drinks.
Henry's aunt: Find her a good husband who knows how to behave to a woman.
Henry: The only way to behave is to make love to her if she's pretty and to someone else if she's plain. Excuse me. Cigarette?
Dorian: No, thank you.
Henry: I find a cigarette to be the perfect pleasure. It is exquisite and leaves one unsatisfied. You're Kelso's grandson.
Dorian: Yes. Did you know him?
Henry: I met him once. It was enough to give a cheer last month when he rasped his last sour breath. One assumes you inherited the withered old goat's estate? Being a little orphan isn't all bad. "An earnest young man with a beautiful nature," according to Agatha. I'd pictured some freckled country oaf in ghastly dress. I see I was only half right. It could be worse. Gladys Allonby's been dressed for her 14th birthday ever since her 40th. If Radley spent less time in church and more at his tailor's, he might not so resemble a badly-bound hymn book. Are you sure you won't take a cigarette? I get them directly from Cairo.
Basil: I see you've met our charming host. Just pay no attention to anything he tells you.
Henry: How rude. Henry Wotton. Victoria, my wife. My aunt, alas, you know. Oh, I'm so glad you've met. You might learn some manners from this boy.
Victoria: I've found some more guests for you to insult.
Henry: I knew I kept her for something. I do hope our paths cross again, Mr Gray.
Dorian: Thank you for the cigarette... (Coughs)... cigarette.
Basil: An acquired taste.
Dorian: No, it's actually quite pleasant.
Basil: No, I meant Henry.