[ (standing by the table, and looking searchingly at her).]
I think all this is very strange.
_____________
Conversation between the Wild Duck, Ibsen, and Oedipus:
Ibsen: Morning, Sophocles.
Oedipus: Morning Henrik, g'day Duck.
Duck: Quack ('Tis a fine day for a swim. Alas, I have a wounded wing and, just like you Oedipus, I cannot take pleasure in what should be mine.)
Oedipus: Oh? What is it you mean?
Duck: Quack (I mean the blindness in your sight, the prophecy stabbing you in the back.)
Ibsen: You know, Duck, I'm not too far away from you either. You used to be a king of fowl, the Wild Duck, but now you swim in a bucket. I used to live in a great mansion, trees towering over me. Now I am a humble playwright. Although, we are still more different than alike.
Oedipus: Yes, I'd agree with Ibsen. I am similar, but still distant from all you are.
Duck: Quack (Please tell.)
Oedipus: I am the Blind Beggar. The man with lost judgement. But I have found resolution in my punishment. I see only false living in your apparent comfort. Just like your family, the Ekdals.
Duck: Quack (I know what you mean. Those Ekdals just spoil me too darn much.)
Ibsen: That isn't what is meant, Duck.
Duck: Quack Quack (Then what?)
Ibsen: You are living a life of corpulence and yet you retain your title of Wild Duck. Your Ekdals lead lives of fantasy. Hedvig, who ironically is losing sight as you lose vitality, is finding comfort in the books she gazes upon. Hjalmar, Old Ekdal's son, is working on a invention that consumes his life. Old Ekdal has been reduced to copying booklets by hand, and he still fantasizes being a lieutenant again. It is almost shameful.
Duck: Quack.
Oedipus: Alas, the duck is only that. Quack.
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