Father, I must speak. I can be silent no longer. All day long, you mutter to yourself, jibber, dribble, moan, and bash your head against the wall yelling "I want to die!". It's Mother, isn't it?
No it's not.
You're brooding over her death, aren't you?
Kate, for the final time, your mother's not dead. She's run off with your Uncle Henry!
I know you only say such things to comfort me.
Your mother is alive and well and living in Droitwich! It's not her I brood over. I'm sad because our poverty has now reached such extremes that I can no longer afford to keep us. I must look to my own dear, tiny darling to sustain me in my frail dotage.
But, Father, surely-?
Yes, Kate. I want you to become a prostitute.
[shocked] Father!
Do you defy me?!
Why, indeed I do! For it is better to die poor than to live in shame and ignominy!
No it isn't.
I'm young and strong and clever. And my nose is pretty. I shall find another way to make us a living.
Oh, please go on the game. It's a steady job, and you'd be working from home!
Goodbye, Father. [kisses his hand] I shall go to London, disguise myself as a boy and seek my fortune! [runs off]
But why walk all the way to London when you can make a fortune lying on your back?!
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