Because my father, a composer who had his work performed at the Lamoureux Concerts—as I can prove, because I’ve got the programme—had the misfortune to marry into a family of lackeys—I’m not talking about my mother: she was never really one of you. She had the soul of an artist. BENNET (white with suppressed fury; he is in front of her; his very look is enough to silence her). Now you listen to me, my girl, once and for all. I told you the night of your arrival that whether this business was going to prove a pleasant or an unpleasant one depended upon you. You make it an easy one—for your own sake. With one word I can bring your house of cards about your ears. I’ve only to tell him the truth for him to know you as a cheat and liar. (She goes to speak; again he silences her.) You listen to me. You’ve seen fit to use strong language; now I’m using strong language. This boy, who has married you in a moment of impulse, what does he know about the sort of wife a man in his position needs? What do you? made to sing for your living on the Paris boulevards—whose only acquaintance with the upper classes has been at shady restaurants.

Fanny Monologue from Fanny and the Servant Problem

Rehearse Fanny's monologue