Mr Punch's Pocket Ibsen - A Collection of Some of the Master's Best Known DramasAnstey, F.
General
Mr Punch's Pocket Ibsen - A Collection of Some of the Master's Best Known Dramas
Anstey, F.
Ibsen, Henrik, 1828-1906 -- Parodies, imitations, etc.
[_Apologetically._] There _should_ have been a luncheon-party in this
act, with Dr. Relling and Mölvik, who would have been in a state of
comic "chippiness," after his excesses overnight. But, as it hadn't much
to do with such plot as there is, we cut it out. It came cheaper. Here
comes your father back from his walk with that lunatic, young Werle--you
had better go and play with the Wild Duck.
[HEDVIG _goes_.
HIALMAR.
[_Coming in._] I have been for a walk with Gregers; he meant well--but
it was tiring. Gina, he has told me that, fifteen years ago, before I
married you, you were rather a Wild Duck, so to speak. [_Severely._] Why
haven't you been writhing in penitence and remorse all these years, eh?
GINA.
[_Sensibly._] Why? Because I have had other things to do. _You_ wouldn't
take any photographs, so I _had_ to.
HIALMAR.
All the same--it was a swamp of deceit. And where am I to find
elasticity of spirit to bring out my grand invention now? I used to shut
myself up in the parlour, and ponder and cry, when I thought that the
effort of inventing anything would sap my vitality. [_Pathetically._] I
_did_ want to leave you an inventor's widow; but I never shall now,
particularly as I haven't made up my mind what to invent yet. Yes, it's
all over. Rabbits are trash, and even poultry palls. And I'll wring that
cursed Wild Duck's neck!
GREGERS.
[_Coming in beaming._] Well, so you've got it over. _Wasn't_ it soothing
and ennobling, eh? and _ain't_ you both obliged to me?
GINA.
No; it's my opinion you'd better have minded your own business.
[_Weeps._
GREGERS.
[_In great surprise._] Bless me! Pardon my Norwegian _naïveté_, but this
ought really to be quite a new starting-point. Why, I confidently
expected to have found you both beaming!--Mrs. Ekdal, being so
illiterate, may take some little time to see it--but you, Hialmar, with
your deep mind, surely _you_ feel a new consecration, eh?
HIALMAR.
[_Dubiously._] Oh--er--yes. I suppose so--in a sort of way.
[HEDVIG _runs in, overjoyed._
HEDVIG.
Father, only see what Mrs. Sörby has given me for a birthday present--a
beautiful deed of gift! [_Shows it._
HIALMAR.
[_Eluding her._] Ha! Mrs. Sörby, the family house-keeper. My father's
sight failing! Hedvig in goggles! What vistas of heredity these
astonishing coincidences open up! _I_ am not short-sighted, at all
events, and I see it all--all! _This_ is my answer. [_He takes the deed,
and tears it across._] Now I have nothing more to do in this house.
[_Puts on overcoat._] My home has fallen in ruins about me. [_Bursts
into tears._] My hat!
GREGERS.
Oh, but you _mustn't_ go. You must be all three together, to attain the
true frame of mind for self-sacrificing forgiveness, you know!
HIALMAR.
Self-sacrificing forgiveness be blowed!
[_He tears himself away, and goes out._
HEDVIG.
[_With despairing eyes._] Oh, he said it might be blowed! Now he'll
_never_ come home any more!
GREGERS.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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