In the house of Kate and her father.
K: Father, I must speak. I can be silent no longer. All day long you muttered to yourself, gibbered, dribbled, moaned and bat your head against the wall, yelling "I want to die". Now you may say I'm leaping to conclusions but you're not *completely* happy, are you? It's mother, isn't it?
F: No, it is not.
K: You're brooding over her death, aren't you?
F: Kate, for the final time, your mother is not dead. She's run off with your uncle Henry.
K: Dear father, I know you only say such things to comfort me.
F: Your mother is alive and well and living in Droitwich. It is not her I brood over. I'm sad because, my darling, our poverty has now reached such extremes that I can no longer afford to keep us. I must look to my own dear tiny darling to sustain me in my frail dotage.
K: But father, surely...
F: Yes Kate, I want you to become a prostitute.
F: Do you defy me?
K: But indeed, I do. For it is better to die poor than to live in shame and ignominy.
F: No, it isn't.
K: I'm young and strong and clever. My nose is pretty. I shall find another way to earn us a living.
F: Oh, please... go on the game. It is a steady job and you'd be working from home.
K: Goodbye father. I shall go to London, disguise my self as a boy and seek my fortune!
F: But why go all the way to London when you can make a fortune lying on your back?