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    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, April 25, 1891
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, April 25, 1891
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, April 25, 1891
    Ebook97 pages45 minutes

    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, April 25, 1891

    By Various Various

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 15, 2013
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, April 25, 1891

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      Book preview

      Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, April 25, 1891 - Various Various

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 100,

      April 25, 1891, by Various

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 100, April 25, 1891

      Author: Various

      Release Date: December 6, 2004 [EBook #14277]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***

      Produced by Malcolm Farmer and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading

      Team.

      PUNCH,

      OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

      Vol. 100.

      April 25th, 1891.

      MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN.

      (Condensed and Revised Version by Mr P.'s Own Harmless Ibsenite.)

      No. III.—HEDDA GABLER.

      ACT I.

      SCENE—A Sitting-room cheerfully decorated in dark colours. Broad doorway, hung with black crape, in the wall at back, leading to a back Drawing-room, in which, above a sofa in black horsehair, hangs a posthumous portrait of the late General GABLER. On the piano is a handsome pall. Through the glass panes of the back Drawing-room window are seen a dead wall and a cemetery. Settees, sofas, chairs, &c., handsomely upholstered in black bombazine, and studded with small round nails. Bouquets of immortelles and dead grasses are lying everywhere about.

      Enter Aunt JULIE (a good-natured looking lady in a smart hat).

      Aunt J. Well, I declare, if I believe GEORGE or HEDDA are up yet! (Enter GEORGE TESMAN, humming, stout, careless, spectacled.) Ah, my dear boy, I have called before breakfast to inquire how you and HEDDA are after returning late last night from your long honeymoon. Oh, dear me, yes; am I not your old Aunt, and are not these attentions usual in Norway?

      George. Good Lord, yes! My six months' honeymoon has been quite a little travelling scholarship, eh? I have been examining archives. Think of that! Look here, I'm going to write a book all about the domestic interests of the Cave-dwellers during the Deluge. I'm a clever young Norwegian man of letters, eh?

      Aunt J. Fancy your knowing about that too! Now, dear me, thank Heaven!

      George. Let me, as a dutiful Norwegian nephew, untie that smart, showy hat of yours. (Unties it, and pats her under the chin.) Well, to be sure, you have got yourself really up,—fancy that!      [He puts hat on chair close to table.

      Aunt J. (giggling). It was for HEDDA'S sake—to go out walking with her in. (HEDDA approaches from the back-room; she is pallid, with cold, open, steel-grey eyes; her hair is not very thick, but what there is of it is an agreeable medium brown.) Ah, dear HEDDA!      [She attempts to cuddle her.

      Hedda (shrinking back). Ugh, let me go, do! (Looking at Aunt JULIE'S hat.) TESMAN, you must really tell the housemaid not to leave her old hat about on the drawing-room chairs. Oh, is it your hat? Sorry I spoke, I'm sure!

      Aunt J. (annoyed). Good gracious, little Mrs. HEDDA; my nice new hat that I bought to go out walking with you in!

      George (patting her on the back). Yes, HEDDA, she did, and the parasol too! Fancy, Aunt JULIE always positively thinks of everything, eh?

      Hedda (coldly). You hold your tongue. Catch me going out walking with your aunt! One doesn't do such things.

      George (beaming). Isn't she a charming woman? Such fascinating manners! My goodness, eh? Fancy that!

      Aunt J. Ah, dear GEORGE, you ought indeed to be happy—but (brings out a flat package wrapped in newspaper) look here, my dear boy!

      George (opens it). What? my dear old morning shoes! my slippers! (Breaks down.) This is positively too touching, HEDDA, eh? Do you remember how badly I wanted them all the honeymoon? Come and just have a look at them—you may!

      Hedda. Bother your old slippers and your old

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