Mrs. Warren's Profession. The Dark Lady of the Sonnets / Профессия миссис Уоррен. Смуглая леди сонетов. Бернард Шоу

[with enchanting placidity]. Is that so, Mrs Warren?

      MRS WARREN [reflectively]. Well, Sam, I don’t know. If the girl wants to get married, no good can come of keeping her unmarried.

      REV. S. [astounded]. But married to him! – your daughter to my son! Only think: it’s impossible.

      CROFTS. Of course it’s impossible. Don’t be a fool, Kitty.

      MRS WARREN [nettled]. Why not? Isn’t my daughter good enough for your son?

      REV. S. But surely, my dear Mrs Warren, you know the reasons—

      MRS WARREN [defiantly] I know no reasons. If you know any, you can tell them to the lad, or to the girl, or to your congregation, if you like.

      REV. S. [collapsing helplessly into his chair]. You know very well that I couldn’t tell anyone the reasons. But my boy will believe me when I tell him there are reasons.

      FRANK. Quite right, Dad: he will. But has your boy’s conduct ever been influenced by your reasons?

      CROFTS. You can’t marry her; and that's all about it.

      [He gets up and stands on the hearth, with his back to the fireplace, frowning determinedly].

      MRS WARREN [turning on him sharply]. What have you got to do with it, pray?

      FRANK [with his prettiest lyrical cadence]. Precisely what I was going to ask, myself, in my own graceful fashion.

      CROFTS [to Mrs Warren]. I suppose you don’t want to marry the girl to a man younger than herself and without either a profession or twopence to keep her on. Ask Sam, if you don’t believe me. [To the parson]. How much more money are you going to give him?