you had said to me on that wonderful evening when we first dined together； about the search for beauty being the real secret of life。 i dont know what i expected； but i went out and wandered eastward； soon losing my way in a labyrinth of grimy streets and black grassless squares。 about half…past eight i passed by an absurd little theatre； with great flaring gas…jets and gaudy play…bills。 a hideous jew； in the most amazing waistcoat i ever beheld in my life； was standing at the entrance； smoking a vile cigar。 he had greasy ringlets； and an enormous diamond blazed in the centre of a soiled shirt。have a box； my lord？ he said； when he saw me； and he took off his hat with an air of gorgeous servility。 there was something about him； 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 guinea for the stage…box。 to the present day i cant make out why i did so； and yet if i hadnt…… my dear harry； if i hadnt……i should have missed the greatest romance of my life。 i see you are laughing。 it is horrid of you！〃 〃i am not laughing； dorian； at least i am not laughing at you。 but you should not say the greatest romance of your life。 you should say the first romance of your life。 you will always be loved； and you will always be in love with love。 a grande passion is the privilege of people who have nothing to do。 that is the one use of the idle classes of a country。 dont be afraid。 there are exquisite things in store for you。 this is merely the beginning。〃 〃do you think my nature so shallow？〃 cried dorian gray angrily。 〃no； i think your nature so deep。〃 〃how do you mean？〃 〃my dear boy； the people who love only once in their lives are really the shallow people。 what they call their loyalty； and their fidelity； i call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination。 faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect……simply a confession of failure。 faithfulness！ i must analyse it some day。 the passion for property is in it。 there are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up。 but i dont want to interrupt you。 go on with your story。〃 〃well； i found myself seated in a horrid little private box； with a vulgar drop…scene staring me in the face。 i looked out from behind the curtain and surveyed the house。 it was a tawdry affair； all cupids and cornucopias； like a third…rate wedding…cake。 the gallery and pit were fairly full； but the two rows of dingy stalls were quite empty； and there was hardly a person in what i suppose they called the dress…circle。 women went about with oranges and ginger…beer； and there was a terrible consumption of nuts going on。〃 〃it must have been just like the palmy days of the british drama。〃 〃just like； i should fancy； and very depressing。 i began to wonder what on earth i should do when i caught sight of the play…bill。 what do you think the play was； harry？〃 〃i should think the idiot boy； or dumb but innocent。 our fathers used to like that sort of piece； i believe。 the longer i live； dorian； the more keenly i feel that whatever was good enough for our fathers is not good enough for us。 in art； as in politics； les grandpères ont toujours tort。〃 〃this play was good enough for us； harry。 it was romeo and juliet。 i must admit that i was rather annoyed at the idea of seeing shakespeare done in such a wretched hole of a place。 still； i felt interested； in a sort of way。 at any rate； i determined to wait for the first act。 there was a dreadful orchestra； presided over by a young hebrew who sat at a cracked piano； that nearly drove me away； but at last the drop…scene was drawn up and the play began。 romeo was a stout elderly gentleman； with corked eyebrows； a husky tragedy voice； and a figure like a beer…barrel。 mercutio was almost as bad。 he was played by the low…edian； who had introduced gags of his own and was on most friendly terms with the pit。 they were both as grotesque as the scenery； and that looked as if it had e out of a country…booth。 but juliet！ harry； imagine a girl； hardly seventeen years of age； with a little； flowerlike face； a small greek head with plaited coils of dark…brown hair； eyes that were violet wells of passion； lips that 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 pathos left you unmoved； but that beauty； mere beauty； could fill your eyes with tears。 i tell you； harry； i could hardly see this girl for the mist of tears that came across me。 and her voice……i never heard such a voice。 it was very low at first； with deep mellow notes that seemed to fall singly upon ones ear。 then it became a little louder； and sounded like a flute or a distant hautboy。 in the garden…scene it had all the tremulous ecstasy that one hears just before dawn when nightingales are singing。 there were moments； later on； when it had the wild passion of violins。 you know how a voice can stir one。 your voice and the voice of sibyl vane are two things that i shall never forget。 when i close my eyes； i hear them； and each of them says something different。 i dont know which to follow。 why should i not love 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 is rosalind； and the next evening she is imogen。 i have seen her die in the gloom of an italian tomb； sucking the poison from her lovers lips。 i have watched her wandering through the forest of arden； disguised as a pretty boy in hose and doublet and dainty cap。 she has been mad； and has e into the presence of a guilty king； and given him rue to wear and bitter herbs to taste of。 she has been innocent； and the black hands of jealousy have crushed her reedlike throat。 i have seen her in every age and in every costume。 ordinary women never appeal to ones imagination。 they are limited to their century。 no glamour ever transfigures them。 one knows their minds as easily as one knows their bonnets。 one can always find them。 there is no mystery in any of them。 they ride in the park in the morning and chatter at tea…parties in the afternoon。 they have their stereotyped smile and