Mr. Worthing. I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told...

Jack:

I don't actually know who I am by birth. I was... well, I was found. Lady Bracknell:
Found? Jack:
Yes. The late Mr. Thomas Cardew, an old gentlemen of a kindly disposition found me and gave me the name of Worthing because he happened to have a first class ticket to Worthing at the time. Worthing is a place in Sussex. It's a seaside resort. Lady Bracknell:
And where did this charitable gentlemen with the first class ticket to the seaside resort find you? Jack:
In a handbag. Lady Bracknell:
[closes eyes briefly]
A handbag? Jack:
Yes, Lady Bracknell, I was in a hand bag. A somewhat large... black... leather handbag with handles... to it. [pause] Lady Bracknell:
An ordinary handbag. Lady Bracknell:
And where did this Mr. James... or, Thomas Cardew come across this ordinary handbag? Jack:
The cloak room at Victoria Station. It was given to him in mistake for his own... Lady Bracknell:
[Shocked]
The cloak room at Victoria Station? Jack:
Yes. The Brighton line. Lady Bracknell:
The line is immaterial. [begins tearing up notes] Lady Bracknell:
Mr. Worthing. I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?