’Twould be just like him. Soldiers adore, Civilians love. I prefer adoration, its a longer word, and of course contains more of the language of love. (MAY: Suppose he should ask you to marry him?) Suppose, suppose anything you like. (Cross to door L.). I’m going to change my dress. (MAY: And you withhold from me your confidence, Bess, Bess, this is not right.) May, don’t lecture me. Do let me enjoy myself, ’twill be time to warn when the grub brother turns into the butterfly lover. ((Aside.)) She dares to doubt my love for Marcus. I’ll plague her well for that. ((Exit door.) L.) MAY (rising). ’Tis as I feared, she is learning to love this man; this tramp, who, in some unaccountable manner, fascinates the whole household. Roy delights in his company. Bess is happy at his side; even Nancy, the man hater, almost worships him, while I feel magnetized by his presence; and yet he robs me of my husband’s society. But he must not win my Bess, there’s too much at stake, an accident might rouse the slumbering curse of his former life, and then what a fate would be hers. Oh, no, she must be saved from that, though I make an enemy of my husband’s comrade. But how? (Sits R. of table.) How? ((Enter.) SIMON C.)

Bessie Bradley Monologue from Comrades: A Drama in Three Acts

Rehearse Bessie Bradley's monologue