George Character Analysis

Mayme: Let me tell you, so many wonderful ideas been conjured in this room. They just get left right in that bed there, or on this piano bench. They are scattered all over this room. Esther, I ain't waiting for anybody to rescue me. My Panama man come and gone long time now. It sweet that he write you but, my dear, it ain't real.

Esther: DON'T! This quilt is filled with my hard work, one hundred dollars for every year I been seated at that sewing machine. It's my beauty parlor. So you see I don't need Mr. Charles for his good job and position.

Mrs. Van Buren: I should like to see one for myself. You must take me to one of your shows.

Esther: And will you take me to the opera next time you go?

Mrs. Van Buren: I would, if I could. It would be marvelously scandalous, just the sort of thing to perk up this humdrum season. It is so easy to be with you. Your visits are just about the only thing I look forward to these days. You, and our letters to George, of course. Shall we write something dazzling to him? Something delicious.

Mayme: And do you love him?

Esther: As much as you can love a man you ain't seen. I'm thirty-five, Mayme, and he wants to marry me. And there ain't gonna be no more opportunities I'm afraid. I've told him yes.

Mrs. Dickson: Bless his broken-down soul. He had fine suits and perfect diction, and was too high on opium to notice that he was married. But I would not be a washerwoman if it killed me. And I have absolutely marvelous hands to prove it.

George: What is it?

Esther: It's Japanese silk. Put it on. (George clumsily pulls the smoking jacket around his muscular body. He clearly isn't comfortable with the delicacy of the garment.) Careful. (George explores the jacket with his weather-worn fingers.) It ain't too small?

George: Nah. But I afraid, I soil it. (George removes the jacket and tosses it on the bed.)

Esther: But it Sunday. I'll put on some tea, and sit, let me mend your shirt. You can't go out with a hole in your shirt. (Esther touches the hole in his shirt.) What will they say about your wife? I won't hear the end of it from Mrs. Dickson.

Esther: Please, I ain't been to a social. I sat up in Saint Martin's for years, and didn't none of them church ladies bother with me until I walked in on your arm, and suddenly they want Mrs. Armstrong over for tea.

Esther: How you know she ain't a good person? And he just saying what you want to hear. That his words are a smooth tonic to make you give out what ain't free. How you know his wife ain't good?

Mayme: I don't know. But do it matter?

Esther: Yeah it do. You ever think about where they go after they leave here? Who washes their britches after they been soiled in your bed?

George: 'Least in Panama a man know where 'e stand. 'E know 'e chattel. That as long as 'e have a goat 'e happy. 'E know when 'e drunk, 'e drunk and there ain' no judgment if so. But then 'e drink in words of this woman. She tell 'e about the pretty avenues, she tell 'e plentiful. She fill up 'e head so it 'ave no taste for goat milk. She offer 'e the city stroke by stroke. She tantalize 'e with Yankee words. But 'e not find she. Only this woman 'ere, that say, touch me, George.

Esther: I ain't really Mrs. Armstrong, am I? I been holding on to that, and that woman ain't real. We more strangers now than on the eve of our wedding. At least I knew who I was back then. But I ain't gonna let you hurt that woman. No! She's a good decent woman and worthy. Worthy!

Mayme: The world changing and he wants big strong horses. He made me laugh. He promised to take me out someplace special, but I didn't have nothing nice to wear. And honestly it made me think about how long it been since I done something for myself. Gone someplace like you said, where a colored woman could go to put up her feet and get treated good for a change. And I see the dice rolling, and I think Lord, God, wouldn't a place like that be wonderful. But every time the dice roll, that place is a little further away. Until it all gone.

Esther: LET HIM GO! Let him go. He ain't real, he a duppy, a spirit. We be chasing him forever.

Mayme: Let me tell you, so many wonderful ideas been conjured in this room. They just get left right in that bed there, or on this piano bench. They are scattered all over this room. Esther, I ain't waiting for anybody to rescue me. My Panama man come and gone long time now. It sweet that he write you but, my dear, it ain't real.

Esther: DON'T! This quilt is filled with my hard work, one hundred dollars for every year I been seated at that sewing machine. It's my beauty parlor. So you see I don't need Mr. Charles for his good job and position.

Mrs. Van Buren: I should like to see one for myself. You must take me to one of your shows.

Esther: And will you take me to the opera next time you go?

Mrs. Van Buren: I would, if I could. It would be marvelously scandalous, just the sort of thing to perk up this humdrum season. It is so easy to be with you. Your visits are just about the only thing I look forward to these days. You, and our letters to George, of course. Shall we write something dazzling to him? Something delicious.

Mayme: And do you love him?

Esther: As much as you can love a man you ain't seen. I'm thirty-five, Mayme, and he wants to marry me. And there ain't gonna be no more opportunities I'm afraid. I've told him yes.

Mrs. Dickson: Bless his broken-down soul. He had fine suits and perfect diction, and was too high on opium to notice that he was married. But I would not be a washerwoman if it killed me. And I have absolutely marvelous hands to prove it.

George: What is it?

Esther: It's Japanese silk. Put it on. (George clumsily pulls the smoking jacket around his muscular body. He clearly isn't comfortable with the delicacy of the garment.) Careful. (George explores the jacket with his weather-worn fingers.) It ain't too small?

George: Nah. But I afraid, I soil it. (George removes the jacket and tosses it on the bed.)

Esther: But it Sunday. I'll put on some tea, and sit, let me mend your shirt. You can't go out with a hole in your shirt. (Esther touches the hole in his shirt.) What will they say about your wife? I won't hear the end of it from Mrs. Dickson.

Esther: Please, I ain't been to a social. I sat up in Saint Martin's for years, and didn't none of them church ladies bother with me until I walked in on your arm, and suddenly they want Mrs. Armstrong over for tea.

Esther: How you know she ain't a good person? And he just saying what you want to hear. That his words are a smooth tonic to make you give out what ain't free. How you know his wife ain't good?

Mayme: I don't know. But do it matter?

Esther: Yeah it do. You ever think about where they go after they leave here? Who washes their britches after they been soiled in your bed?

George: 'Least in Panama a man know where 'e stand. 'E know 'e chattel. That as long as 'e have a goat 'e happy. 'E know when 'e drunk, 'e drunk and there ain' no judgment if so. But then 'e drink in words of this woman. She tell 'e about the pretty avenues, she tell 'e plentiful. She fill up 'e head so it 'ave no taste for goat milk. She offer 'e the city stroke by stroke. She tantalize 'e with Yankee words. But 'e not find she. Only this woman 'ere, that say, touch me, George.

Esther: I ain't really Mrs. Armstrong, am I? I been holding on to that, and that woman ain't real. We more strangers now than on the eve of our wedding. At least I knew who I was back then. But I ain't gonna let you hurt that woman. No! She's a good decent woman and worthy. Worthy!

Mayme: The world changing and he wants big strong horses. He made me laugh. He promised to take me out someplace special, but I didn't have nothing nice to wear. And honestly it made me think about how long it been since I done something for myself. Gone someplace like you said, where a colored woman could go to put up her feet and get treated good for a change. And I see the dice rolling, and I think Lord, God, wouldn't a place like that be wonderful. But every time the dice roll, that place is a little further away. Until it all gone.

Esther: LET HIM GO! Let him go. He ain't real, he a duppy, a spirit. We be chasing him forever.