Act 1 — SCENE 2.—A lady's bedroom.
Reading edition
KATE BLOGGS and her cousin, ORPHEA BLAGGS, in conversation.
Orphea. What will you do, dear?
Kate. A deed without a name! A deed will waken me at dead of night! A deed whose stony face will stare at me With vile grimace, and freeze my curdling blood! Will make me quake before the eye of day; Shrink from the sun; and welcome fearsome night! A deed will chase my trembling steps by ways Unknown, through lonely streets, into dark haunts!— Will make me tremble if a child observes Me close; and quake, if, in a public crowd, One glances at me twice! A deed I'll blush for, yet I'll do't; and charge Its ugliness on those who forced me to't— In short, I'll wear the breeks.
Orphea. Oh, Katie! You?
Kate. Yes, me, dear coz.
Orphea. But then your hair, and voice!
Kate. I'll train my voice to mouth out short, thick words, As Bosh! Trash! Fudge! Rot! And I'll cultivate An Abernethian, self-assertive style, That men may think there is a deal more in My solid head than e'er comes out. My hair I'll cut short off.
[She looses down her abundant brown hair, and passes her hands through it caressingly.
Ah, woman's simple pride! these tresses brown Must all be shorn. Like to Godiva fair, Whose heart, so true, forgot itself, to serve Her suffering kind; I, too, must make My hair an offering to my sex; a protest strong 'Gainst man's oppression. Oh, wavy locks, that won my father's praise, I must be satisfied to cut ye off, And keep ye in a drawer 'till happier times, When I again may wear ye as a crown: Perchance a bang.
Orphea. 'Twould, perhaps, be best to wear some as moustache.
Kate. The very thing! then whiskers won't be missed.
Orphea. But oh, your mannish garb! How dreadful, Kate!
Kate. True; but it must be done, and you must help.
[Exeunt.