“Now just listen.” from the play, “The Bracelet” Harvey states he hasn’t had an affair with the governess, but just a fondness and caring toward her. Their guests leave and Harvey turns to his wife to tell her his true feelings. Ideal for Adult Males ranging from 40-59. 1-2 Mins.
Written By: Alfred Sutro
Now just listen. I’m going to speak to you—I’m going to say things—things that have been in my heart, in my life, for years. I’m not going to spare you, I’m going to tell you the truth, and the truth, and the truth! We’ve been married ten years. Oh, I know, we were neither of us very young. But anyhow the last five have been nothing but misery for me. Misery—do you hear that? You sitting there, calm and collected—not caring one damn for me—It is, and you know it. The mother of my children! Satisfied with that. Never a word of kindness, or sympathy. And as for—affection! Well, I need something more. And, look here, I’ll tell you. This girl has made life worth living. That’s all. I’d come home at night dog-tired, all day in the City—sick of it, Stock Exchange, office, and the mud and the grime and the worry—there were you, with a nod, ah, Harvey, good evening—and you’d scarcely look up from your Committee Report or your Blue-book, or damned pamphlet or other—I want my wife to care for me! I want her to smile when I come in, and be glad—I want her to love me! You don’t! By the Lord, I’ve sneaked upstairs, gone in and had a peep at the children—well, they’d be asleep. I tell you I’ve been hungry, hungry, for a word, for a look! And there, in the schoolroom, was this girl. I’ve played it low down, I know—she’s fond of me. But I couldn’t help it—I was lonely—that’s what it was. I’ve gone up there night after night. You didn’t know where I was—and you didn’t care. In my study, you thought—the cold, chilly box that you call my study—glad to have me out of the way. Well, there I was, with this girl. It was something to look forward to, in the cab, coming home. It was something to catch hold of, when things went wrong, in that dreary grind of money-making. Her eyes lit up when they saw me. She’d ask me about things—if I coughed, she’d fuss me—she had pretty ways, and was pleased, oh, pleased beyond words, if I brought her home something—