Monologue

Tranto Monologue from The Title: A Comedy in Three Acts

From The Title: A Comedy in Three Acts by Arnold Bennett

male · comedic · 2:47 min

The worst is this. Auntie Joe actually thinks I 'm Sampson Straight. (HILDEGARDE: She doesn't!) She does. She has an infinite capacity for belief. The psychology of the thing is as follows. My governor died a comparatively poor man. A couple of hundred thousand pounds, more or less. Whereas Uncle Joe is worth five millions--and Uncle Joe was going to adopt me, when Auntie Joe butted in and married him. She used to arrange the flowers for his first wife. Then she arranged his flowers. Then she became a flower herself and he had to gather her. Then she had twins, and my chances of inheriting that five millions (he imitates the noise of a slight explosion) short-circuited! Well, I didn't care a volt--not a volt! I've got lots of uncles left who are quite capable of adopting me. But I didn't really want to be adopted at all. To adopt me was only part of Uncle Joe's political game. It was my Echo that he was after adopting. But I'd sooner run my Echo on my own than inherit Uncle Joe's controlling share in twenty-five daily papers, seventy-one weekly papers, six monthly magazines, and three independent advertising agencies. I know I'm a poor man, but I'm quite ready to go on facing the world bravely with my modest capital of a couple of hundred thousand pounds. Only Auntie Joe can't understand that. She's absolutely convinced that I have a terrific grudge against her and her twins, and that in order to gratify that grudge I myself personally write articles against all her most sacred ideals under the pseudonym of Sampson Straight. I've pointed out to her that I'm a newspaper proprietor, and no newspaper proprietor ever could write. No use! She won't listen. (HILDEGARDE: Then she thinks you're a liar.) Oh, not at all. Only a journalist. But you perceive the widening rift in the family lute. (A silence.) Pardon this glimpse into the secret history of the week. HILDEGARDE (formidably). Mr. Tranto, you and I are sitting on the edge of a volcano.

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