Crockstead monologue — Five Little Plays

I trust you may find it so. [_He sits, and pauses for a moment, then begins, very quietly._] Lady Aline, I am a self-made man, as the foolish phrase has it--a man whose early years were spent in savage and desolate places, where the devil had much to say; a man in whom whatever there once had been of natural kindness was very soon kicked out. I was poor, and lonely, for thirty-two years: I have been rich, and lonely, for ten. My millions have been made honestly enough; but poverty and wretchedness had left their mark on me, and you will find very few men with a good word to say for Harrison Crockstead. I have no polish, or culture, or tastes. Art wearies me, literature sends me to sleep--