Sam monologue (Act 1) — Betsey Bobbett: A Drama

But, Elder, how is a woman to cling if she hain’t nothin’ to cling to. What are the wimmen to do whose faces are as humbly as a plate of cold greens? Is such a woman to go out into the street and collar a man and order him to marry her? Now I say a woman hadn’t ort to marry unless she has a man to marry to—a man whose love satisfies her head and her heart; some men’s love hain’t worth nothin’. I wouldn’t give a cent a bushel for it by the car load. But I mean a man that suits her; a man she seems to belong to, just like North and South America jined by nater, unbeknown to them ever since creation. She’ll know him if she ever sees him, jest as I knew my Josiah, for their two hearts will suit each other jest like the two halves of a pair of shears. These are the marriages heaven signs the certificuts of; and this marryin’ for a home, or for fear of bein’ called a old maid is no more marriage in the sight of God, no more true marriage than the blush of a fashionable woman that is bought for ten cents an ounce and carried home in her pocket, is true modesty.