You, Mother! I tell you, the day I took it into my head to bring you here to live with us, I was an extremely clever man. It's most convenient to have you here. Men of business like me haven't the time to spend all their leisure moments with their wives. Very often, after a day's work at the office, I'm not at liberty to spend the evening at home: I must return to the office, you know. As I did yesterday. And when I take it into my head to stroll along the boulevard— You insist on your little joke, Mother. If, I say, I take it into my head to go out, there's the little one all alone. You came here to live with us, and now my conscience is easy: I leave my little wife in good hands. I need not worry. There were a thousand liberties I never indulged in before you came. Now I take them without the slightest scruple. You see, I want people to be happy. It is not enough that I should be: every one must be who is about me. I can't abide selfish people. And it's so easy not to be! There is only one thing worrying me now: I brought a whole package of papers with me from the office, which I must sign. It's been pretty hard these past three days, but I am reimbursed, and that's all I ask. Now I'm going to sign my papers. It won't take me more than a quarter of an hour. I'll find you here when I come back, shan't I? And the little one will leave me my cognac, eh? See you soon.

Lamblin Monologue from Monsieur Lamblin

About this piece

Rehearse Lamblin's monologue

More from Monsieur Lamblin