Allen monologue (Act 3) — Woodbarrow Farm: Play in Three Acts

(_Springing up, working Piff. round, from table l. to desk r._) Oh, you go to your late lamented master, the fizzing Count, and tell him to--I have had eno’ of him and I’ve had eno’ of you. Blest if I’ve had a happy moment since you came into the house. You’ve dressed me up like a tailor’s dummy, and curled my hair like a Sunday school kid; you’ve made me talk like a man in a play, and walk like a monkey on stilts. Thee’ve chivied me about from morning till night, and thee’ve rammed that old lamented corpse of yours down my throat every two minutes of the day. I’ve put up wi’ it all for a long while because I thought thee meant well, and wur a-trying to make me into a gentleman, but blest if I think thee knows much more about the genuine article than I does, and I’m going to go it in my own way now. Look here. (_Takes off his tie and collar and throws them down and jumps on them, pulls off his coat and throws it in a corner, nifties his hair, unbuttons and throws back his waistcoat, kicks off his boots, and throws himself into easy chair, sticks his feet on table, takes long pull from the pot, slams it on table> again, and commences to smoke his pipe vigorously, looking defiantly at Piff._) That’s the sort o’ man I’m going to be now. (_Sits l._)