Hol. My “Father!” decided you? In opposition to Knowles’s most beautiful creation? You shall write no such thing.
Fle. What!
Hol. Take this part from her, give it to another, and humiliate her. You must not write. Why would you take it from her?
Fle. Because she’ll murder it.
Hol. Murder it! poor child! The part contains sentiments she is a stranger to. She does not appear to feel sufficiently strong the expression, “My father!” Who knows? perhaps she has never known a father, or a father’s love.
Fle. You seem quite affected.
Hol. You will not write? If you take this part from her I shall hate you—to know that you caused her pain through what I have said. It would drive me mad—it would kill me!
Fle. What did you say?
Hol. Pay no attention to what I say—my head is a little shaky. Promise me, only promise me, you will not take this part from her. She will play it admirably—beautifully.