Henrik Ibsen’s

GHOSTS
Translated by William Archer, 1889
Adapted by Drew Hampton, 2019

CHARACTERS

CAPTAIN ALVING, a deceased Chamberlain*

MRS. HELEN ALVING, widow of Captain Alving

OSWALD ALVING, son of Captain and Mrs. Alving

REGINA, Mrs. Alving’s servant

MANDERS, a pastor

JACOB ENGSTRAND, a carpenter

*In Norway, Chamberlain was a title bestowed by the King on men of wealth and status.

SETTING

1881; Mrs. Alving's country estate in Western Norway.

© Drew Hampton, 2019.

No portion of this work may be reproduced, in whole or in part,
in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner.

ACT I: SCENE 1
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 [While still dark, the ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING appears, drifting into a spacious room
in the Alving’s estate. There is a knock at the door. The ghost drifts further into the house.
Lights come up. Another knock comes, and REGINA hurries to answer. As she enters, she
and the ghost glide past one another, and the ghost disappears. ENGSTRAND, a carpenter
with a deformed leg, is at the door. REGINA tries to stop him from entering.]
REGINA. [Quietly.] What do you want? [He tries to advance.] Stay where you are! You're
dripping wet.
ENGSTRAND. But it's the Lord's own rain, my girl.
REGINA. The devil's rain, I say.
ENGSTRAND. Good God, how you talk, Regina! [He forces himself a few steps in.] I only
wanted to say—
REGINA. Shh! The young master is asleep upstairs.
ENGSTRAND. Asleep? In the middle of the day?
REGINA. It's no business of yours.
ENGSTRAND. You know, I was out carousing last night—
REGINA. I can quite believe that.
ENGSTRAND. I am but a weak vessel, a mere mortal, my girl—
REGINA. So it seems—
ENGSTRAND. And temptations are many in this world. But! I was out last night, and I was
still hard at work at half-past five this morning. Maybe six.
REGINA. Good for you, now be off. I have no interest in any sort of rendezvous with you.
ENGSTRAND. Any what?
REGINA. I won't have any one find you here. Just go about your business.
ENGSTRAND. [Advancing further in.] Now look! Not before I've had a talk with you. This
afternoon, I’ve almost finished my hard work at the Orphanage, and later tonight, I’ll take the boat
back to town.
REGINA. Bon voyage.
ENGSTRAND. Ya’ see, tomorrow the, uh, the Orphanage opens up, and there'll be a lot of, uh,
celebrating, no doubt, and plenty of, uh, intoxicating drink, as they say. But! Nobody shall say of
good ole’ Jacob Engstrand that he can't keep away from temptation!
REGINA. There’s a laugh.
ENGSTRAND. No, no! Ya’ see, there’ll heaps of important folks here tomorrow. Pastor
Manders is expected from town, too.
REGINA. He's coming today.
ENGSTRAND. … Oh. Well! I’ll be damned if he sees or hears anything to hold against me.
REGINA. Oh, so that’s your game.
ENGSTRAND. Huh?
REGINA. How are you planning to cheat Pastor Manders this time?
ENGSTRAND. Are you crazy? Me cheat Manders? Come now, no! Manders has been too good
a friend to me. Now listen—I’m trying to tell ya,’ I’m going back home tonight.
REGINA. The sooner the better.
ENGSTRAND. And I want you to come with me, Regina.
REGINA. You want me—? What are you talking about?
ENGSTRAND. I want you to come home. With me.

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 REGINA. Never in this world shall I go home with you. Me, that have been brought up in a
home like this and by a lady like Mrs. Alving! Me, that am treated very nearly like a daughter here!
You want me to go home with you? To a disgusting house like yours? Shame on you!
ENGSTRAND. What the devil do you mean? Huh? You mean to go against your father, your
own flesh and blood? You little bitch!
REGINA. You do have a way with words. And haven’t you said, often enough, that I was no
concern of yours?
ENGSTRAND. Come now! No matter what I’ve said—
REGINA. Haven’t you sworn at me? And called me, more than once, ‘an accident?’
ENGSTRAND. No! [She gives him a look.] That was only when I was boozed up! Like I said,
Regina, temptations are… temp—uh, temptations are—
REGINA. Temptations are many in this—
ENGSTRAND. Many in this world, yes! And listen, it was just when your mother was so damn
aggravating! I had to find something to scrape at her with. She was always carrying on [mimicking
REGINA’s mother] "Oh, Engstrand, let me be. I’m so fancy! I spent three years with Chamberlain
Alving's family." That woman, good God!
REGINA. [Hitting him.] Don’t you dare speak ill of my mother. You tormented that poor
woman into her grave.
ENGSTRAND. Oh, yes! Blame everything on me.
REGINA. And you’ve always been an embarrassment; especially that leg!
ENGSTRAND. What?
REGINA. Pied de mouton.
ENGSTRAND. Huh? What’s that, Greek?
REGINA. [Sighs.] French. Imbécile.
ENGSTRAND. Hmm. Well, I see you picked up a fancy education out here. That’ll come in
handy now, Regina.
REGINA. For what?
ENGSTRAND. I've been thinking of setting up a, uh, a new line of business.
REGINA. You've tried that, often enough; much good you've done.
ENGSTRAND. This time you’ll see, damnit!
REGINA. Stop your swearing!
ENGSTRAND. [Quieter.] Alright, alright. But listen. I’ve been able to save a pretty penny from
this Orphanage job.
REGINA. Good for you.
ENGSTRAND. But what could I ever spend it on, out here in the dull country?
REGINA. You tell me.
ENGSTRAND. See, the trick is to put your money into something that makes even more money!
I was thinking of a, uh, a sort of a tavern for sailors [REGINA scoffs.] No, no! A sailors’ home! A
high-class kinda’ place! For captains!
REGINA. And what about me?
ENGSTRAND. You’d, uh, you’d help with the look of the place. You wouldn’t have to lift a
finger, my girl; just provide a little, uh [winking] atmosphere.
REGINA. You’ve got to be joking.
ENGSTRAND. I’ve gotta’ have a woman in the house, to keep it lively in the evenings, ya’
know? Singing and dancing, and so on! You’ve gotta’ remember, they're “weary wanderers on the
ocean of life.” And let’s face it, a little eye candy never hurt anyone. [She tries to walk away.]

3
Don't be a fool, Regina. Honestly, what’ll ever become of you out here, in the sticks? What good
is an education to you? Ya’ know, I hear you're set to look after the children at the new Orphanage.
Come now, Regina. Is that really the sort of thing for a girl like you?
REGINA. If things go as I hope, there’s no telling what I might do; where I might go.
ENGSTRAND. What does that mean?
REGINA. Never mind. How much have you saved?
ENGSTRAND. Altogether, over 200 dollars!
REGINA. Not bad.
ENGSTRAND. It's plenty to make a start with, my girl.
REGINA. Aren't you thinking of giving any to your daughter?
ENGSTRAND. Hell no!
REGINA. Come now, not even for a new dress?
ENGSTRAND. Come with me! In town, you can have all the dresses you want.
REGINA. … I could do all this without you, if I had a mind to.
ENGSTRAND. But a father's guiding hand is what you need, Regina. I've got my eye on a
perfect house, on Little Harbor Street. They don't need much money upfront, and it really is perfect
for a sailor’s home—
REGINA. No. I’m not going to live with you. I want nothing whatsoever to do with you. Be
off—
ENGSTRAND. But you wouldn't have to stay with me long! If you learn how to, uh, play your
cards, as they say… such a fine figure as yours? You might catch yourself a captain!
[The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING appears.]
REGINA. I know what sailors are. They're not the sort of people to marry.
ENGSTRAND. Never mind marrying them! As long as they pay! [Getting closer to REGINA.]
You remember that, uh, Englishman? That foreigner with the yacht, who your mother—[REGINA
starts to hit ENGSTRAND as the ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING disappears.] Well, all in all, he gave
her 300 dollars! Can you believe that? 300! And your mother wasn’t half as pretty as you are.
REGINA. [Hitting him.] Out! Now!
ENGSTRAND. Come now, don’t hit me!
REGINA. If you talk that way about Mother, I shall. Now get out of here, I say! And go quietly.
Young Mr. Alving is—
ENGSTRAND. He's asleep, I know, I know. You seem pretty damn concerned about that young
Mr. Alving—Ohhh! It’s him, isn’t it? He’s the reason you don’t—
REGINA. Get out, you fool! Go! [Seeing PASTOR MANDERS approach.] Wait, wait. Pastor
Manders is coming. Go out the back. Don’t let anyone see you, or I swear—
ENGSTRAND. Alright, alright. But ask Manders; he’ll tell you what a child owes its father.
And the church register says that you owe me!
[She forces ENGSTRAND out the back and takes a moment to compose herself before
letting PASTOR MANDERS in.]
MANDERS. Good morning, Miss Engstrand.
REGINA. Oh! Good morning, Pastor Manders. A pleasant surprise! Is the steamship in already?
MANDERS. Just in, yes. [He begins to take off his overcoat. REGINA assists him.] Terrible
weather lately.
REGINA. Yes, but it's blessed weather for the country, sir; for the farmers.
MANDERS. Quite right. We townspeople give too little thought to that.
[PASTOR MANDERS sets down his travel big.]

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 MANDERS. Ah, it's a comfort to be under a roof. I trust everything is going well here?
REGINA. Yes, thank you, sir.
MANDERS. You have your hands full, I suppose, in preparation for tomorrow?
REGINA. Oh, yes, there's plenty to do.
MANDERS. And Mrs. Alving is at home, I assume?
REGINA. Oh, yes. She's just upstairs, taking young Mr. Alving some—
MANDERS. Oh, yes, I heard down at the pier Oswald had arrived.
REGINA. Yes! He came three days ago. We didn't expect him so soon.
MANDERS. Strong and well, I hope?
REGINA. Yes, I believe so. But quite tired from the journey. He came non-stop from Paris. He's
sleeping a little now, I think, so perhaps we'd better talk quietly.
MANDERS. Oh, yes, of course.
REGINA. Do sit down, Pastor Manders. Make yourself at home. [REGINA checks toward the
back of the house to make sure there is no sign of ENGSTRAND.] Are you comfortable, sir?
MANDERS. Quite, thank you. Miss Engstrand, I do believe you have grown since I last saw
you.
REGINA. [Laughs modestly.] Mrs. Alving says I've filled out too.
MANDERS. Filled out? [He squirms a bit.] Well, perhaps. As a woman should, I suppose.
REGINA. Thank you, sir. Shall I tell Mrs. Alving you’re here?
MANDERS. Oh, there’s no hurry, my dear. By-the-bye, Regina, how is your father doing out
here in the country?
REGINA. Oh… he's… he’s doing well enough. Thank you.
MANDERS. You know, he called upon me last time he was in town.
REGINA. Did he?
MANDERS. Your father is not a man of strong character, Miss Engstrand. He requires someone
near him, whom he cares for, and whose judgment he respects. He admitted as much when he last
came to see me.
REGINA. Yes, he mentioned something of the sort to me, too. But, you see, sir, I’m not sure
Mrs. Alving can spare me, especially now that we've got the new Orphanage to attend to. And, if
I may, I would regret leaving Mrs. Alving. She has always been so kind to me.
MANDERS. I understand we would first need Mrs. Alving’s consent. But ultimately, you must
consider a daughter's duty, young lady.
REGINA. But also, sir… I’m not sure it would be proper for me, at my younger age, to keep
house for a single man.
MANDERS. [Laughing.] But Miss Engstrand! The man is your own father!
REGINA. Yes, but all the same, sir. However, if I could find a housekeeping position in a nice
gentleman’s house. A man I could look up to, and feel like a true daughter to—then I would be
thrilled to move into town. It's very lonely out here. You know yourself, Pastor Manders, what it
is to be alone. [He crosses away. She wonders if she’s hurt him.] Sir, I’m—I’m a hard worker and
intelligent. Don't you know of anyone who could use—
MANDERS. I’m afraid not.
REGINA. Well, sir, please keep me in mind, if you ever—
MANDERS. Yes, Miss Engstrand.
REGINA. Because if—
MANDERS. Regina. … Please tell Mrs. Alving I’m here.
REGINA. Yes, sir. Right away.

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 [She exits. MANDERS walks about, inspecting the room. He notices a few books and picks
up one in particular.]
MANDERS. Oh, Lord help her.
[MRS. ALVING enters.]
MRS. ALVING. [Holds out her hand.] Welcome, Pastor Manders.
MANDERS. Here I am, as promised.
MRS. ALVING. Always punctual to the minute.
MANDERS. I’ll tell you, it wasn’t easy for me to get away, with all the committees and boards
I belong to.
MRS. ALVING. All the kinder of you to come. Now we can get through our business before
lunch! … Oh. Where is your luggage?
MANDERS. I left it down at the inn. I shall sleep there tonight.
MRS. ALVING. You mean to say, even now, I can’t persuade you to spend a night under my
roof?
MANDERS. Many thanks, Mrs. Alving, but no. I shall stay at the inn, as usual. It’s quite
convenient to the steamer.
MRS. ALVING. As you wish. Though, I would have thought, now that we’ve grown old—
MANDERS. Oh, I see, now you’re making fun of me! … Well, you seem to be in great spirits
today. And why shouldn’t you! With tomorrow's celebration, with Oswald's return—
MRS. ALVING. My boy! You can imagine what a delight it is! It's more than two years since
he was last home. And now he’s promised to stay with me all winter.
MANDERS. Is that right? That’s quite nice and dutiful of him. I’m sure life in Rome and Paris
has very different attractions from anything out here.
MRS. ALVING. Here he has his mother. … You know, I'm quite curious to see whether or not
you recognize him. He’s grown into a quite a handsome man. He’ll be joining us for lunch, but
he’s resting upstairs now.
MANDERS. I look forward to seeing him.
MRS. ALVING. … Alright then. Shall we begin?
MANDERS. If you like. Is now a good time?
MRS. ALVING. Quite.
MANDERS. Very well. Then let me show you—[He goes to his bag and takes out papers.]
Now, we should begin with—[He is distracted by MRS. ALVING’s books.] Mrs. Alving. I must
ask. What are these books doing here?
MRS. ALVING. … They’re books. I read them.
MANDERS. You read this sort of literature?
MRS. ALVING. As one does with literature.
MANDERS. But my question is why? Do they make you feel better? Happier?
MRS. ALVING. I would say more secure.
MANDERS. How so?
MRS. ALVING. I find understanding and confirmation of all sorts of things I’ve been thinking.
And that’s the fascinating part of it, Pastor Manders—really, there’s nothing in these books most
people don’t already think and believe. Only they can’t or won’t express it.
MANDERS. Great Heavens! I can’t believe—Do you actually think most people—
MRS. ALVING. I do, indeed.
MANDERS. But surely not in this country? Not among us?
MRS. ALVING. Especially here.

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 MANDERS. Good gracious! I can’t—
MRS. ALVING. What is it you object to in these books?
MANDERS. Object to? Surely, you don’t believe I have nothing better to do than to read, much
less study such publications as these?
MRS. ALVING. Ah. So you know nothing of what you condemn.
MANDERS. I’ve read enough about these writings to disapprove of them.
MRS. ALVING. Then you have no opinions of your own?
MANDERS. There are countless occasions in life when one must rely upon others. Now, hear
me, Mrs. Alving. I don’t mean to deny that there may be an attractive thing or two in these books.
Nor can I blame you for desiring to keep up with the intellectual movements of the times, but…
MRS. ALVING. But what?
MANDERS. [Lowering his voice.] But one should not talk about it. And one is certainly not
required to tell everyone what one reads and thinks within her own four walls.
MRS. ALVING. There we agree.
MANDERS. And remember, too, you must consider the interests of the new Orphanage, which
you decided to found at a time when you thought quite differently on spiritual matters. So it seems.
MRS. ALVING. Entirely differently, yes. But. I believe it was the Orphanage itself you came
to discuss?
MANDERS. … Yes. All the documents are in perfect order. [The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING
appears, coming close to MANDERS and MRS. ALVING.] It was quite difficult to get them in
time. The authorities can be… grotesquely precise any time a decision is to be made. Nevertheless,
here they are. Here is the ‘deed of gift’ for the land, which will hold all the newly constructed
buildings, including schoolrooms and the chapel… the endowment terms… and the "by-laws for
the children's home to be known as 'Captain Alving's Foundation.'
MRS. ALVING. … There it is.
MANDERS. I chose the title of "Captain" rather than "Chamberlain." "Captain," I think, looks
less… extravagant.
MRS. ALVING. As you think best.
MANDERS. … the account information for the day to day costs of the Orphanage.
MRS. ALVING. You should hold onto that.
[The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING disappears.]
MANDERS. My pleasure. My feeling is to leave the money in the bank for now. The interest is
certainly not ideal—four percent. But if a better deal can be found later on, we can reconsider. I’ll
keep my eyes open.
MRS. ALVING. Fine.
MANDERS. Now. One more thing. Shall the Orphanage be insured?
MRS. ALVING. Insured? Of course it must.
MANDERS. Well, Mrs. Alving—
MRS. ALVING. I have everything insured; buildings, stocks, crops—
MANDERS. Of course, as do I. But we’re speaking of worldly possessions. This is quite another
matter. This Orphanage is to be dedicated to a much higher purpose.
MRS. ALVING. That may be, but that's no reason—
MANDERS. We must think of certain people. People in influential positions.
MRS. ALVING. Hmm. Yes, I suppose there are several people of that sort who might—

7
 MANDERS. Precisely—who might be too quick to interpret insurance as a sign that neither you
nor I had appropriate faith in God. You see? And such a misinterpretation could do great harm to
the Orphanage.
MRS. ALVING. Pastor Manders, I see your—
MANDERS. And if I may, it could put me into a difficult, perhaps painful position.
Distinguished circles of the town are taking great interest in this Orphanage. It is, of course,
founded partly for the benefit of the town, and it should reduce our public welfare taxes
considerably. And since I have been your business advisor, I fear I would bear the brunt of attacks
in the papers and—
MRS. ALVING. Say no more, Pastor Manders. I understand.
MANDERS. Then you do not wish for the Orphanage to be insured?
MRS. ALVING. No. Leave it be.
MANDERS. Alright. Now, if some sort of disaster were to happen, would you be able to cover
the losses?
MRS. ALVING. [Nearly laughing.] Not remotely.
MANDERS. I see. … This is a Goliath of a responsibility; but I have full faith that God, as he
did for David, will provide His protection and prosperity, especially for type of institution.
MRS. ALVING. Let us hope so.
MANDERS. [Makes a note.] No insurance.
MRS. ALVING. It's funny you should bring up this matter today.
MANDERS. Yes, well, I’ve been meaning to discuss it for some time.
MRS. ALVING. Just yesterday, a small pile of shavings caught fire in the carpenter's workshop.
MANDERS. Fire! You don't say.
MRS. ALVING. Oh, it was nothing, Manders! Only a trifle.
MANDERS. The carpenter’s workshop? Where Jacob Engstrand works?
MRS. ALVING. Exactly. They all say he can be careless at times.
MANDERS. Oh, that Engstrand… he has so much on his mind, so many things to fight against.
Thank God, he is now striving to lead a decent life, I hear.
MRS. ALVING. Who says so?
MANDERS. The man himself. He assures me of it; and he is certainly a superior worker.
MRS. ALVING. When he's sober.
MANDERS. … Yes. A regrettable weakness. But he is oft-driven to it because of his leg. Last
time he was in town, I was truly moved by him. He came and thanked me so warmly for helping
him find work here, so he might be near Regina.
MRS. ALVING. Is that right? He doesn't see much of her.
MANDERS. Oh, but he does. He has a talk with her every day. He told me so.
MRS. ALVING. Ah. Then it must be so.
MANDERS. He feels in his heart that what he needs is someone to keep a firm hold on him
when temptation arises. That’s what I can’t help but like about Jacob Engstrand. He comes
helplessly, blaming himself, confessing his own weakness. That reminds me, Mrs. Alving.
Suppose it was a true necessity for Engstrand to have Regina home again—
MRS. ALVING. Regina!
MANDERS.—you must not set yourself against it.
MRS. ALVING. Indeed I shall set myself against it. Besides, Regina is to have a notable position
in the Orphanage. I need her—
MANDERS. But Engstrand is her father—

8
 MRS. ALVING. I know very well what sort of a father he has been to her. No, I say! She shall
never go to him with my blessing.
MANDERS. My dear lady, don't take the matter so heavily. Sadly, I think you misjudge poor
Engstrand.
MRS. ALVING. I have taken Regina into my home, and here she shall stay. [She senses Oswald
coming in.] We’ll say no more about it. Here comes Oswald. Now I shall think of no one but him.
[OSWALD enters, a pipe in his mouth.]
OSWALD. Oh, I beg your pardon. Good morning, Pastor Manders.
MANDERS. [Staring.] Oh my… It’s incredible…
MRS. ALVING. Well now, what do you think of him, Mr. Manders?
MANDERS. Oswald? Is it really you?
OSWALD. Yes, really. The Prodigal Son.
MANDERS. [Apologetically.] My, dear friend—
OSWALD. Well, the Lost Sheep found.
MANDERS. Oh, my boy, I know you’re thinking of the time I was opposed to you becoming a
painter. But you see, to our human eyes, many steps seem dubious that afterwards prove—Oh
never mind it! Welcome home! Please don’t think I condemn the true calling of an artist. There
are many artists who have the strength to keep their inner-self unharmed.
MRS. ALVING. I know one who has kept both his inner and his outer-self unharmed. Just look
at him, Mr. Manders. Isn’t he—
OSWALD. [Moves restlessly about the room.] Mother, please, can we talk about something
else?
MANDERS. … You know, you’ve begun to make a name for yourself. The newspapers oft-
speak of you. Glowingly, in fact. However, lately, I haven't seen your name so often.
OSWALD. I haven't been able to paint as much lately.
MRS. ALVING. Even a painter needs a little rest now and then.
MANDERS. Oh, no doubt. And meanwhile, he can be preparing himself and mustering his
forces for great work.
OSWALD. Mother, will lunch be ready soon?
MRS. ALVING. In less than half an hour, I believe. [To MANDERS.] He has a strong appetite,
thank God.
MANDERS. And a taste for tobacco, too.
[The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING appears, a pipe in his mouth. He drifts behind OSWALD.]
OSWALD. Oh… I found father's pipe in my room.
MANDERS. Ah, yes! That’s it! When Oswald appeared, with the pipe in his mouth, I could
have sworn I saw his father. Clear as could be.
OSWALD. Really?
MRS. ALVING. Oh, how can you say that? Oswald takes after me.
MANDERS. Perhaps, but there is an expression around his mouth that reminds me perfectly of
Captain Alving.
MRS. ALVING. Not in the least. Oswald has a much more saintly look, I think.
MANDERS. I suppose you’re right. Some of my colleagues have the same expression.
MRS. ALVING. Put that pipe away, my dear. I won't have smoking in here.
OSWALD. But the pipe isn’t even— [She looks so concerned, he obliges.] Yes, Mother. I only
wanted to hold it. You know, I once smoked it as a child.
MRS. ALVING. Oswald!

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 OSWALD. I was quite small. I went up to father's room one evening. He was in great spirits; I
remember—
MRS. ALVING. Oh, how could you remember anything of those times!
OSWALD. No, listen. He took me on his knee and gave me the pipe. He said, "Smoke, boy.
Smoke away, boy!" So I did! I smoked as deeply as I could, until I felt I was growing quite ill, and
the sweat gathered in puddles on my forehead. Father burst out laughing! [OSWALD laughs.]
[The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING disappears.]
MRS. ALVING. My boy, I’m sure that’s only something you’ve dreamt.
OSWALD. No, I didn't dream it! Don't you remember? You were there! You came in, pulled
me away from him, and carried me into the nursery. You were crying the whole time. [Laughs
again.] Did father often play such jokes?
MANDERS. Oh, I’m sure! In his youth, he overflowed with the joy of life.
OSWALD. The joy of life. You’re right. He managed to do so much in the world… so much
that was good and useful. Even dying so early.
MANDERS. He did, indeed. And you’ve inherited the legacy of that energetic, admirable man,
Oswald. No doubt that ought be an incentive for you to—
OSWALD. It ought to, indeed. [Pause. OSWALD slips into melancholy.]
MANDERS. It was good of you to come home for the ceremony in his honor.
OSWALD. I could do no less for my father.
MRS. ALVING. [Hugging him.] And I am to keep my boy here so long!
MANDERS. That’s right. You are to spend the winter at home, I hear?
OSWALD. Actually, my stay is indefinite, Pastor. It’s good to be home.
MRS. ALVING. Yes, isn't it, dear?
MANDERS. I’m afraid you went out into the world early, Oswald.
OSWALD. Perhaps too early.
MRS. ALVING. Not at all! A healthy boy is made better by venturing into the world on his
own, especially when he's an only child. He ought not linger at home, with only his mother and
father—
MANDERS. Some would dispute that. A child's proper place is his father’s home. Mrs. Alving,
there’s no reason we can’t say it in his presence. What have the consequences been for Oswald?
He’s 26, 27? And he’s never had the opportunity to know what a proper, respectable home is—
MRS. ALVING. Pastor Manders—
OSWALD. I beg your pardon, Pastor. There, you're quite mistaken.
MANDERS. Oh? I thought you’d lived almost exclusively in artistic circles.
OSWALD. Indeed I have.
MANDERS. And among the younger artists?
OSWALD. That’s right.
MANDERS. But I thought few of them could actually afford to have a house and, more to the
point, support a family.
OSWALD. Well, there are many who can’t afford to marry—
MANDERS. Which is precisely—
OSWALD. But they have a home. Several do, as a matter of fact. Proper and respectable homes.
MANDERS. But I'm not talking of bachelors' quarters. When I say ‘home,’ I mean the home of
a family, where a man lives with his wife and children.
OSWALD. Right. Or with his children and his children's mother.
MANDERS. Good Heavens! Oswald!

10
 OSWALD. What?
MANDERS. Lives with his children's mother?
OSWALD. Of course. What? I suppose you’d rather the mother be abandoned to live on the
streets?
MANDERS. You’re talking about obscene, sinful relations!
OSWALD. I don’t see anything sinful about the lives they lead.
MANDERS. But how is it possible that a young man, or woman, with any decency can choose
to live in that way? And in the eyes of all the world?
OSWALD. THEY’RE. POOR. Marriage costs a fortune. What are they to do?
MANDERS. I’ll tell you what they ought to do, they ought to exercise self-restraint. That is
what they ought to do.
OSWALD. That philosophy won’t get you far with warm-blooded young folks who are in love.
MANDERS. [To MRS. ALVING.] You see? Had I not cause to be deeply concerned about your
son? Living in circles where open immorality prevails!
OSWALD. You should know, Manders, I’ve been in the habit of spending nearly all my
Sundays in these ‘obscene’ homes.
MANDERS. Sundays!
OSWALD. What? Isn't that the day of rest? The day to enjoy one's self? Well, I’ll tell you, never
have I heard an offensive word or witnessed anything that could be called sinful. But do you know
where I have?
MANDERS. No, thank Heaven, I don't!
OSWALD. Well, I’ll tell you anyway. I’ve seen it when ‘respectable,’ ‘ideal’ husbands and
fathers have come to Paris—to escape their own families. They sniff around town, they drink with
us in our taverns, and they entertain us with stories of all the places they’ve been and all the women
they’ve had. Stories you’d never dream of.
MANDERS. Excuse me? You mean to suggest respectable men—
OSWALD. Come now, Pastor! You’ve never heard these men? When they return home, talking
about the raging sexual immorality that goes on abroad?
[Stunned, MANDERS turns to MRS. ALVING for support.]
MRS. ALVING. I know I have.
OSWALD. Aghhh! The freedom and happiness and beauty that exists in the world! Ruined by
your ‘respectable’ men!
[OSWALD is suddenly overcome by fatigue. ]
MRS. ALVING. You mustn't get agitated, Oswald. It's not good for you.
OSWALD. You're right, mother. … I’m so damn exhausted. … I think I need to… go on a short
walk… get my blood flowing a bit better. [To MANDERS.] My apologies. I know you can't
understand my point of view. But I had to stand up for it. [OSWALD exits.]
MRS. ALVING. My poor boy.
MANDERS. Poor, indeed. And what do you say to all this?
MRS. ALVING. I say, in every word, Oswald was right.
MANDERS. Right? In those principles?
MRS. ALVING. In my loneliness, I have come to the same way of thinking, Pastor Manders.
Only I have never dared to say anything.
MANDERS. You are greatly to be pitied, Mrs. Alving. I must now speak quite seriously to you.
And now it is no longer your business advisor, nor your dear family friend, who stands before you.

11
It is a Pastor—a man of God, who stood before you in the moment of your life when you had gone
farthest astray.
MRS. ALVING. And what has this man to say to me?
MANDERS. Tomorrow will be the tenth anniversary of your husband's death. Tomorrow his
memorial will be unveiled. And tomorrow I shall speak to the whole assembled congregation. But
today, I speak to you alone.
MRS. ALVING. Speak.
MANDERS. Do you remember, after less than a year of marriage… that you fled your home?
That you turned your back on your husband? [She tries to interrupt.] Yes, Mrs. Alving, and refused
to return to him, no matter how much he begged?
MRS. ALVING. Do you remember how infinitely miserable I was?
MANDERS. It is the very mark of a rebellious spirit to crave happiness. What God-given right
have we human beings to happiness? Our command is to simply do our duty. And your duty was
to hold firmly to the man to whom you were bound by holy matrimony.
MRS. ALVING. You know very well the sort of life Captain Alving was leading—
MANDERS. I know what rumors there were! And I am the last to approve the life he led in his
younger days. If those reports were true. But a wife’s duty is not to be her husband's judge; rather
to humbly bear the cross which God, in His perfect wisdom, laid upon you. But you? You burned
your cross, Mrs. Alving. You abandoned the man you should have loved. You also risked your
reputation and very nearly succeeded in ruining the reputation of others.
MRS. ALVING. And just who do you mean by ‘others?’
MANDERS. [Quietly.] Mrs. Alving, it was incredibly reckless of you to seek refuge with me.
MRS. ALVING. With my close friend? With my pastor?
MANDERS. You should thank God I stood firm; that I was able to dissuade you from your
hysterical plans; that God used me to lead you back to your duty and home to your husband. And
has it not proved a blessing, every day since, for you to have resumed the yoke of duty and
obedience? Didn’t everything happen just as I foretold? Didn’t Captain Alving, after that time, live
with you, lovingly and faithfully, until he died? [She doesn’t answer.] And now, I should speak to
the next great mistake of your life.
MRS. ALVING. And what is that?
MANDERS. Just as you disavowed a wife's duty, you disavowed a mother's. All your life,
you’ve had something dangerous in you. A spirit of selfishness! Of insubordination, of
lawlessness. You’ve never known how to endure anything. Anything that has weighed upon you,
in the slightest, you cast away without care. When being a wife no longer entertained you, you left
your husband. You found it burdensome to be a mother, so you sent your child into a world of
strangers.
MRS. ALVING. … Yes. That is true.
MANDERS. And, in doing so, you have become a stranger to your son.
MRS. ALVING. No! I am not a stranger to—
MANDERS. You must be! And look at the state of mind in which he has returned to you!
Recognize now, you have sinned against your son. But, through God’s grace, there is still time to
lead him back to the path of righteousness. But only if you turn back, yourself. The truth is, Mrs.
Alving, as a mother, you are rotten with guilt. ‘Tis my duty to say so.
[Silence.]
MRS. ALVING. You have spoken, Pastor Manders. And now, I will speak to you.
MANDERS. To make excuses for your behavior?

12
 MRS. ALVING. No. Only to tell you a story. All you’ve said about my husband and me, and
our life after you had brought me back to ‘duty,’ as you called it… well, about all that, you know
nothing. From that moment, you, who had once been our closest friend, never set foot in our home
again. Why?
MANDERS. You and your husband left town immediately after—
MRS. ALVING. Yes, but while he was alive, you never came to see us. In fact, it was only
business that forced you to visit me after his death. And only business that brings you here today.
MANDERS. Helen—if this is meant as a reprimand, I urge you to keep in mind—
MRS. ALVING. Keep in mind your position, yes, of course. After all, I was simply a runaway
wife, and one so holy as yourself can never be too cautious with a filthy creature like me.
MANDERS. That is an absurd exaggeration—
MRS. ALVING. My point is, your judgment of my married life is founded upon nothing but
hearsay.
MANDERS. And?
MRS. ALVING. … You deserve more than hearsay. You deserve the truth. I have sworn to
myself that one day you should know the truth—and you alone.
MANDERS. And what is the truth?
MRS. ALVING. My husband died just as immoral and debaucherous as he had ever been.
MANDERS. What do you say?
MRS. ALVING. You heard correctly. Even after nineteen years of marriage, just as immoral in
his desires as before you married us.
MANDERS. [Laughing.] Those youthful urges, those excesses—you call a ‘debaucherous’
life?
MRS. ALVING. Our doctor did.
MANDERS. Doctor? I don’t understand.
MRS. ALVING. My husband died of a sexual disease.
[MANDERS is momentarily speechless. He is nearly dizzy.]
MANDERS. Oh, Lord in Heaven.
MRS. ALVING. That is the truth, Pastor Manders.
MANDERS. This… no, no, this is inconceivable. I can’t see how—how is this possible? How
could you have kept such things a secret?
MRS. ALVING. That is what I have endured. Day after day. After Oswald was born, Captain
Alving seemed to be better, but it didn’t last. And then I had to fight twice as hard, as if I was
fighting to stay alive, so nobody would know what sort of man my child's father was. And you
know better than anyone what sort of power the great Captain—the Chamberlain!—had over
people. Nobody seemed able to believe anything bad about him. But—Pastor Manders, I must tell
you the whole story. The most repulsive thing of all eventually happened. I kept enduring his
behavior, even though I knew his secrets. But then he brought his ways into our home.
MANDERS. … No. Impossible! Here?
MRS. ALVING. Yes. The dining-room.
[The ghost of JOHANNA appears, heading into the dining room. She is played by the same
actress that plays REGINA. The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING follows her.]
That’s where I saw it. I heard our servant come up from the garden. Soon after, I heard Alving
come in too. I heard him say something quietly to her. And then I heard—oh, it still plagues my
ears. I heard my own servant say: [said by the ghost of JOHANNA: "Let me go, Mr. Alving. Let
me be."]

13
 [Both ghosts disappear.]
MANDERS. Oh, Mrs. Alving. … But it… it can’t have been more than levity. Mere playfulness.
Believe me.
MRS. ALVING. Soon enough, I knew precisely what to believe. Mr. Alving had his way with
the girl. And, Pastor Manders—that bore a living consequence. One only I know.
MANDERS. He—… In this house?
MRS. ALVING. I endured all hell in this house. Just to keep him at home in the evenings, I had
to serve as his drinking companion. Up in his room, I sat with him, clinked glasses, and I—the
man’s own wife—listened to his drunken, devastating talk. His filthy stories about other women.
MANDERS. Oh, Mrs. Alving. You were able to bear all this?
MRS. ALVING. I had to; for Oswald. But after what I saw, I swore to myself, I would put it all
to an end. So, I took control, over my husband and everything else. I had a weapon against him.
The darkest of all secrets. So I sent Oswald away. He was only seven years old, but he was
beginning to observe and ask questions, and it seemed Oswald would be poisoned by merely
breathing the air of this infected house. That was why I sent him away! I never allowed him to set
foot inside this house as long as his father lived. … And no one knows what that cost me.
[Silence.]
MANDERS. You really have been miserable. [Confused.] But why raise a memorial to this
man?
MRS. ALVING. There you see the power of a fearful conscience.
MANDERS. What do you mean?
MRS. ALVING. It always seemed certain the truth would come out and be believed. So, I made
a plan… to use the Orphanage to silence the rumors. Or at least distract from them. … And I have
one other reason. I am determined that my son, my Oswald, shall inherit nothing whatsoever from
his father.
MANDERS. … You mean…? It is Captain Alving's fortune that has built—
MRS. ALVING. Yes. Every single penny spent upon the Orphanage. What my son has from
now on, he shall have from me. And me only.
[OSWALD and REGINA enter. REGINA brings in a small package.]
MRS. ALVING. You’re back, my dear boy!
OSWALD. What can a fellow do in this dreadful rain? I do hope lunch is ready?
REGINA. A package for you, Mrs. Alving.
MRS. ALVING. [To MANDERS.] No doubt a copy of the music for tomorrow's ceremony.
REGINA. [To OSWALD.] And yes, lunch is ready. Would Mr. Alving like red or white wine?
OSWALD. Both, if you please.
REGINA. Bien, monsieur. [She exits. OSWALD follows her.]
MRS. ALVING. Just as I suspected. The Ceremonial Ode.
MANDERS. [Quietly.] But how… How on earth shall I deliver my speech tomorrow?
MRS. ALVING. You’ll manage.
MANDERS. Yes, you’re right. I cannot provoke scandal.
MRS. ALVING. [Quietly.] And then this long, hateful comedy will be over. And we will live
as though he who is dead had never lived in this house.
[REGINA and OSWALD have entered, unnoticed, and stand close to each other, by the
dining table.]
REGINA. Let me go, Mr. Alving. Let me be.
[MRS. ALVING is frozen.]

14
 MANDERS. Mrs. Alving? What is it?
MRS. ALVING. [Almost breathless.] Ghosts… Captain Alving… Haunting his children.
MANDERS. His children? You mean Regina is—
MRS. ALVING. Yes. Now come. Not a word.
[She takes MANDERS’ arm, and they walk towards the dining room to sit with Oswald.
Lights fade.]

15
 ACT I: SCENE 2

[Lunch has finished. REGINA finishes clearing the table, as OSWALD stays in his chair.
MANDERS has moved as far from the table as possible. MRS ALVING encourage
OSWALD to join her and MANDERS.]
MRS. ALVING. Aren't you coming, Oswald?
OSWALD. No. Thank you. I think I’ll go out. [He exits, hardly listening.]
MRS. ALVING. Yes, do. The weather seems a bit brighter now. [OSWALD is gone.] Regina.
REGINA. Yes, Mrs. Alving?
MRS. ALVING. Why don’t you go downstairs to help finish the decorations for tomorrow?
REGINA. Yes, Mrs. Alving. [REGINA exits.]
MANDERS. I suppose they won’t overhear us? [MRS. ALVING shakes her head.] Mrs. Alving,
I’m still quite shaken. I don't know how I ate a single bite.
MRS. ALVING. [Trying to stay calm; pacing up and down.] Nor I. But the question is, what’s
to be done now?
MANDERS. What, indeed.
MRS. ALVING. So far, at least, I don’t believe anything scandalous has happened between
them.
MANDERS. Oh, Heaven forbid. … But it is a ghastly state of affairs, nevertheless.
MRS. ALVING. Out of this house she must go. Immediately. That is obvious.
MANDERS. Yes, of course.
MRS. ALVING. But to where? After all, I couldn’t—
MANDERS. To where? Home to her father, of course.
MRS. ALVING. To whom, you say?
MANDERS. To her fath—oh. Engstrand is not her father. Right. … No, Mrs. Alving, this is
impossible! You must be mistaken.
MRS. ALVING. Unfortunately, I am not. Her mother, Johanna, confessed it all to me. After
that, my only path was to keep it all quiet.
MANDERS. Yes, you could do nothing else.
MRS. ALVING. Johanna left our service at once and received a great sum of money for her
silence. Shortly after, it seems she tracked down Engstrand. She told him some ridiculous tale
about a foreigner with a yacht she had relations with that summer. Knowing Engstrand, I imagine
he could smell the money before she even spoke a word about it. Either way, they married shortly
after she left here. … As I recall, you married them yourself, did you not?
MANDERS. But—no, no, no. I recollect distinctly Engstrand met with me to arrange the
wedding. He apologized and even wept, blaming himself for Johanna becoming pregnant out of
wedlock. Why would he—
MRS. ALVING. Of course he blamed himself. Don’t you see?
MANDERS. Such a lie! And to my face? Well then, I shall have a serious word with that man,
you can be sure of that. Such an immoral basis for a marriage! For money! And, do tell, how much
did Johanna receive to keep quiet?
MRS. ALVING. 300 dollars.
MANDERS. Oh, Heaven help us. 300 dollars to go and marry an unchaste woman!
MRS. ALVING. Then what of me? I married an unchaste man.
MANDERS. What on earth are you—

16
 MRS. ALVING. Do you believe Captain Alving was any more pure when I married him than
Engstrand was when he married Johanna?
MANDERS. Come now, there is a world of difference—
MRS. ALVING. No difference at all. Except in the price. 300 dollars in her case, an entire
fortune in mine.
MANDERS. How can you compare such absolutely dissimilar situations? You decided with
your heart to enter into—
MRS. ALVING. I thought you, of all people, understood where my heart was at the time.
MANDERS. Had I understood anything of the kind, I would not have been a daily guest in this
house. Besides, you sought guidance from your mother, your aunts—
MRS. ALVING. I did. And once they realized the great fortune that would come if I agreed to
marry him, there was no more discussion to be had. I didn’t love the man; I was sold to him! There
was no thought whatsoever of my heart. The women in my family spoke as though it would be
downright madness to refuse him.
MANDERS. My point, Mrs. Alving, is your marriage was in full accordance with law and order.
MRS. ALVING. ‘Law and order?’ I’ve come to think those two devils are responsible for all
the mischief and havoc in this world.
MANDERS. Mrs. Alving—
MRS. ALVING. Go on! Call me indecent! But I will not endure these lies and these barriers
any longer. I must set myself free.
MANDERS. What do you mean by that?
MRS. ALVING. I ought never to have hidden Captain Alving's secrets. But at that time, I was
afraid, partly for myself. And if the truth had come out, everyone still would have taken his side.
They would’ve said, "Poor man! He has a runaway wife, no wonder he needs other women."
MANDERS. They might be justified.
MRS. ALVING. Of course you would say so. … But if I did what I ought to? If I did what a
brave woman ought to, I would go to Oswald and tell him, "Your father led a disgusting life."
MANDERS. Good Heavens!
MRS. ALVING. And I should tell him all I have told you. Every word.
MANDERS. You can’t! That would be unspeakable!
MRS. ALVING. I know it would. I’m almost shocked at the idea myself. I’m nothing but a
coward.
MANDERS. No! You have done your duty in regard to your husband’s memory. Have you
forgotten that a son ought to love and honor his father?
MRS. ALVING. Let’s not generalize. The question is, ought Oswald to love and honor his
father?
MANDERS. Is there nothing in your heart to keep you from destroying your son's ideals?
MRS. ALVING. Ideals? What about the truth?
MANDERS. One should not attack ideals, Mrs. Alving. They tend to fight back. And just think,
Oswald seems to have few enough ideals as it is. His father may be his only one.
MRS. ALVING. … That is true.
MANDERS. And wasn’t it you who fostered that grand image of Captain Alving in your letters
to Oswald?
MRS. ALVING. Yes. In my duty to my husband, I’ve lied to my son for his entire life. …
However, I will not allow Oswald to ruin Regina’s life.
MANDERS. Of course not.

17
 MRS. ALVING. … Then again, if I knew Oswald was sincere, and it would make him truly
happy—
MANDERS. What?
MRS. ALVING. I might say to him, "Go on, marry her. Make what arrangements you please.
Only let there be no secrets about it." It’s the secrets—
MANDERS. Merciful heavens! You would let them marry? That is unheard of!
MRS. ALVING. Unheard of? Pastor, is it your illusion that, throughout the world, there aren’t
many married couples as closely connected as those two?
MANDERS. I don’t understand what you—
MRS. ALVING. Of course you do. In fact, don’t they say we all descended from such a union?
You remember Adam and Eve, don’t you, Pastor?
MANDERS. I shall not discuss theology with you. You are far from being in a healthy frame of
mind. … But I must ask. How can you dare to call your duty to protect your husband’s name
“cowardice?”
MRS. ALVING. … It’s ever so complicated. … I’m frightened by ghosts that I can never escape.
MANDERS. What on earth are you saying?
MRS. ALVING. Ghosts! When Regina and Oswald were just—it was as though ghosts had
risen. … And sometimes, it seems we are all ghosts… what we have inherited from our fathers
and mothers that lives in us, but also all sorts of dead ideas and beliefs. Those beliefs aren’t really
alive in us, but they follow us and haunt us all the same. And we can never shake them. You can’t
open up a newspaper without seeing ghosts slithering between the lines. They’re everywhere. All
around us. And these ghosts—blindness to the truth and these dead ideals—they lurk in, and—
MANDERS. Aha! And here we have the consequences of those books you read! How
delusional! My word!
MRS. ALVING. These realizations are not from books, Pastor Manders. It was you who
awakened my thinking. And I thank you for that with all my heart.
MANDERS. Me?
MRS. ALVING. Yes, you. You called it duty, but what you pushed me towards was cruelty.
You celebrated it as noble and good, but my soul rebelled against it because it was so despicable.
And it was then, when you forced me back into the hands of Captain Alving, that I began to truly
study the fabric of your religion. I only meant to examine a thread or two, but in short time, the
whole thing unraveled. And I realized, it fell apart so easily because it had been sewn together by
a machine of men – like you.
MANDERS. Is that all that’s come from the hardest struggle of my life?
MRS. ALVING. I’d call it your most pitiful defeat.
MANDERS. No, you’re wrong. It was my greatest victory, Helen! A victory over myself.
MRS. ALVING. It was a crime against us both!
MANDERS. When you left your husband and came to me crying, "Here I am; take me," I set
you back on the path of righteousness. I told you, "Woman, go home. To your lawful husband."
Was that a crime?
MRS. ALVING. That’s what I believe.
MANDERS. We do not understand each other.
MRS. ALVING. Not anymore, it seems.
MANDERS. Never, even in my most secret thoughts, have I regarded you as anything other
than another man’s wife.

18
 [As MANDERS wags his finger in her face, MRS. ALVING takes his hand and touches it
gently to her cheek.]
MRS. ALVING. …Never? Is that right?
MANDERS. … Helen…
MRS. ALVING. Men so easily forget their past selves. [She takes his hand away Pause.] Well,
I suppose we shouldn’t speak of the past. What now? … Ah, yes. It seems you are up to your ears
with committees and boards, and I… I am running from ghosts. Both inside me and around me.
MANDERS. … Well, with the ones around you, I can help. After all I’ve heard today, I can’t,
in good conscience, allow Regina to remain here.
MRS. ALVING. The best plan would be to find a good man, one she can marry and—
MANDERS. That that would be desirable in every respect. Regina is now at the age when she
is most attract—Of course, I know little of these things.
MRS. ALVING. Yes, Regina developed early. Nice of you to take notice.
MANDERS. Now listen—
[A knock at the door. MRS. ALVING stands and begins to cross to the door, but
ENGSTRAND enters on his own.]
MRS. ALVING. Well. Come in.
ENGSTRAND. I humbly beg your pardon, but—
MANDERS. Aha!
MRS. ALVING. What is it Engstrand? Do you have business with me?
ENGSTRAND. No, ma'am; it was, uh, Pastor Manders I wanted to have a word or two with.
MANDERS. Oh! You want to speak with me, do you?
ENGSTRAND. Yes, sir; I, uh, I'd like so terribly much to—
MANDERS. Out with it!
ENGSTRAND. Well, it was just this, your holiness: we've, uh, we’ve been paid down at the
Orphanage—[to MRS. ALVING] grateful thanks to you, ma'am—[back to MANDERS] and now
that, uh, everything's finished, I've been thinking it would, uh, only be right and proper if us who’ve
worked so hard all this time—well, I, uh, was thinking we ought to end with a little prayer-meeting
tonight.
MANDERS. A prayer-meeting? Down at the Orphanage?
ENGSTRAND. Oh, well, if the Pastor doesn't think it proper—
MANDERS. No, no. I do, of course. But, Engstrand, you and I—
ENGSTRAND. Ya’ know, I've been in the habit of offering up a bit of prayer some nights
myself.
MRS. ALVING. Is that right?
ENGSTRAND. Oh, yes. Now and then, just a little, uh, enlightenment, as they say. But I'm a
poor, common man, and don’t have much of a gift for such things. Oh, God help me! So I thought,
since the, uh, the great and noble Pastor Manders happened to be nearby—
MANDERS. Now, see here, Engstrand. First, I have a question to put to you. Are you in the
right frame of mind for a prayer-meeting? Is your conscience clear?
ENGSTRAND. Oh, Lord help us, Pastor. We ought not talk about conscience.
MANDERS. That is precisely what we ought to talk about. … Well?
ENGSTRAND. … Well, sir… A man's conscience… well, uh, it could be bad. Now and then.
MANDERS. So you admit it! Then perhaps you might cleanse yourself by telling me the truth;
about Regina.
MRS. ALVING. Pastor Manders!

19
 MANDERS. Now, leave this to me.
ENGSTRAND. About Regina? I don’t—[to MRS. ALVING.] Is there anything wrong with
Regina?
MANDERS. What I mean is, what is the truth about you and Regina? The girl you’ve been
passing off as your daughter.
ENGSTRAND. … Uh… Well, your grace knows… everything about me and her poor mother,
Johanna—
MANDERS. Come now, no more deception! Johanna seems to have told Mrs. Alving quite a
story before she left this house.
ENGSTRAND. … She did?
MANDERS. Your secret is out, Engstrand.
ENGSTRAND. But she—no, no, she swore on a stack of bibles she’d never say a word—
MANDERS. She swore on the Bible?
ENGSTRAND. Huh? Oh, no, sir. Not actually a bible. I just mean she swore, and she meant it
real good.
MANDERS. And you’ve hidden the truth from me all these years? Me! Who has trusted you
without question, in everything?
ENGSTRAND. … Yes, sir. I’m afraid I have, but ya’ see—
MANDERS. Have I deserved this from you, Engstrand? Have I not always assisted you, in word
and deed, as far as my power could reach? … Answer me!
ENGSTRAND. Yes, Pastor, you’ve been so—
MANDERS. And this is how you repay me! You cause me to enter lies into the Church Register!
And you withhold the truth from me, year after year. Your conduct has been wholly inexcusable,
Engstrand. And from this time forward, I am done with you!
ENGSTRAND. … I understand.
MANDERS. How can you possibly justify yourself?
ENGSTRAND. … How could I have known she’d go and stir things up worse by talking about
it? Pastor, please, just imagine yourself in the same, horrible situation as poor Johanna—
MANDERS. Me?
ENGSTRAND. Oh, Lord no! I, uh, I don't mean exactly the same. I just mean, if your holiness
had anything to be ashamed of, in the eyes of the world. Us menfolk really shouldn’t judge a
woman like that too harshly—
MANDERS. I don’t! My harshness is for you!
ENGSTRAND. … But might I, your holiness, be so bold as to, uh, ask a question?
MANDERS. I suppose.
ENGSTRAND. Doesn’t God’s Word say it’s good and proper for a man to, “raise up the fallen?”
MANDERS. Now, Engstrand—
ENGSTRAND. And isn't a man—and even more, a husband—supposed to keep his word?
MANDERS. Yes, but—
[The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING appears.]
ENGSTRAND. Ya’ see, Pastor, after Johanna, uh, got herself into trouble with that Englishman;
a sailor, a Captain I think she said… [MANDERS and MRS. ALVING exchange a look.] Oh, poor
Johanna. She came into town. She'd already turned me down twice before. I just wasn’t handsome
enough! She couldn't bear the sight of this mangled leg of mine. Your holiness remembers the time
I ran reckless into that dance hall, where sailors were drinking and carrying on like devils? And I
urged them to change their ways—

20
 MANDERS. Yes, yes, I know all about that! The ruffians threw you down the stairs and broke
your leg. Your injury is a badge of honor.
ENGSTRAND. Oh, I didn’t mean to boast, sir. God help me! … So, uh… Johanna came back
and, uh, confessed all that happened with her and the Englishman. She wept and gnashed her teeth
about it, she did. And it broke my heart.
MANDERS. Go on.
ENGSTRAND. So I said to her, "That Englishman’s gone, my dear – sailing the endless sea.
Gone for good. And as for you, Johanna,” I told her, “you've committed a shameful sin. You're
now a fallen woman. … But! Jacob Engstrand," I said, "he's got two good legs to stand upon." Ya’
see, I was speaking all figurative-like.
MANDERS. Yes, I understand. Go on.
ENGSTRAND. Right. So then, I did all I could to make an honest woman out of her, so folks
wouldn’t come to know how she'd, uh, gone astray, as they say, with that Englishman.
MANDERS. Fine, Engstrand. In all that, you acted well. But I simply cannot approve of you
stooping so low as to take money to marry a woman who—
ENGSTRAND. Money? No, no, no, sir! Not a penny.
MANDERS. [Including MRS. ALVING.] … Not a penny, eh?
ENGSTRAND. … Oh! Yes, that’s right. Now I remember. Uh … Johanna, she, uh, did have a
bit of money, but I wanted nothing to do with that! No, sir! I said, "That's the wages of sin. We
oughta’ take it back and throw it in that Englishman’s face!"
[The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING disappears.]
… But he was gone. … So…
MANDERS. Was he really gone?
ENGSTRAND. He was, sir! I swear! So Johanna and I, we, uh… compromised that the money
should go to Regina’s education, and it did; every little bit of it.
MANDERS. Oh. Well, that alters things considerably.
ENGSTRAND. That's the truth, Pastor. And, if you’ll allow it, I might boldly say I've been a
good father to Regina. As strong a guide to her as my poor body would let me. I brought her up,
lived happy with my dear Johanna, God rest her soul. And I did my best to be head of that house,
like the Scripture says. [His act turns melancholic.]… But I won’t boast just for doing good. No,
sir. Jacob Engstrand, he holds his tongue then. It don't happen so terrible often anyway, I’m afraid.
When I visit your holiness—God bless you!—there’s more than enough of my own sin and
weakness to talk about. [He falls to his knees.]
MANDERS. Give me your hand, Engstrand.
ENGSTRAND. Oh, my Lord! My noble… gracious.
[MANDERS places his palm on ENGSTRAND’S forehead for a blessing. ENGSTRAND
writhes in spiritual bliss.]
MANDERS. Come now, no nonsense.
ENGSTRAND. I humbly beg your pardon, Pastor.
MANDERS. On the contrary, it is I who ought to beg your pardon.
ENGSTRAND. Oh, Lord, no!
MANDERS. Yes, indeed. With all my heart, forgive me for mistrusting you. I didn’t know the
full story. I wish I could give you some proof of my regret, and of my good will towards you—
ENGSTRAND. Oh, Pastor, as it happens just now, that I, uh… I could use your help.
MANDERS. Oh? What is it?

21
 ENGSTRAND. Well, with the little bit of money I've saved from my hard work at the
Orphanage, I was thinking, I would sure love to set up a new business. A sailors' home, in the
town.
MRS. ALVING. You? An entrepreneur!
ENGSTRAND. Uh, yes! That’s right! A great entrée manure! Ya’ know, in a way, I hope the
sailor’s home might be a kind of Orphanage, too. There's many temptations for sailors once they
come ashore, Pastor. But, in my home, I want a man to feel like he’s under a father's watch… if I
could only get a helping hand.
MANDERS. Yes, Engstrand. I approve. But for now, why don’t you go ahead of me to the
Orphanage and put everything in order for tomorrow’s ceremony. Light all the candles, and give
the place an air of godly festivity! And then, my good man, we will have that prayer meeting. For
now, I believe you are in the right frame of mind.
ENGSTRAND. Yes, sir, I believe I am. [Beginning to exit as he speaks to MRS. ALVING.]
Good-bye, ma'am, and thank you. And please take good care of Regina for me. Oh, my poor
Johanna's child. You know, it's a funny thing about Regina. She’s really grown into the very apple
of my eye. Like a daughter of my own. [He bows and exits.]
MANDERS. And what do you say of that man now, Mrs. Alving? That was a very different
account of matters, was it not?
MRS. ALVING. It certainly was.
MANDERS. It shows how careful one must be in judging one's fellow man. But, I say, what a
heartfelt joy it is to learn you’ve been mistaken! Don't you think?
MRS. ALVING. I think… you are, and will always be, a great baby.
MANDERS. What?
MRS. ALVING. [Closing in on him, playfully.] Yet I still have half a mind to put my arms
round you and kiss you.
MANDERS. [Stepping back.] Good gracious, Mrs. Alving!
MRS. ALVING. Haha! You need not be afraid of me.
MANDERS. My word, you… you have such exaggerated ways of expressing yourself. I must
leave at once. [He collects his bag and documents.] Goodbye for now, Mrs. Alving. I shall return.
… And keep your eyes open with Oswald.
[MANDERS exits. Shortly after, OSWALD appears, lingering in the dining room, with a
decanter, glass, and cigar.]
OSWALD. Was that Pastor Manders that went out just now?
MRS. ALVING. Yes; he’s headed down to the Orphanage. [The decanter and glass clink.]
Oswald, go easy with that liquor. It’s strong.
OSWALD. It helps to endure the gloom.
MRS. ALVING. Wouldn't you rather be in here? With me?
OSWALD. I thought I wasn’t allowed to smoke in there.
MRS. ALVING. You can certainly smoke a cigar. Please come.
[OSWALD finishes a full glass, and leaves it and the decanter on the dining room table.
He goes to join his mother.]
OSWALD. Where has Manders gone?
MRS. ALVING. I just told you; he went down to the Orphanage.
OSWALD. … Oh. … You did, yes.
MRS. ALVING. … Perhaps you shouldn’t drink so much, Oswald.
OSWALD. But it’s so delightful, mother.

22
 MRS. ALVING. Oh, my dear boy!
OSWALD. And what else is there to do here? I can't work.
MRS. ALVING. And why not?
OSWALD. In this weather? Without a single ray of sunshine the whole day? [He moves
anxiously.] Ahhh, not being able to work!
MRS. ALVING. Perhaps it was unwise of you to come home.
OSWALD. I had to.
MRS. ALVING. Oswald, you know I would ten times rather let go of my own joy of having
you here, than for you to—
OSWALD. Tell me, mother, does it really make you so very happy to have me home again?
MRS. ALVING. Does it make me happy? Oswald!
OSWALD. I would have thought it was pretty much the same to you. Whether I existed or not.
MRS. ALVING. Have you the heart to say that to your mother?
OSWALD. You've gone on quite well without me all this time, haven’t you? [MRS. ALVING is
boils silently. Twilight has set.] Mother… there’s something I must tell you.
MRS. ALVING. Yes?
OSWALD. I can't go on hiding it any longer.
MRS. ALVING. Hiding what? What is it?
OSWALD. I could never bring myself to write to you about it. But since I’m home…You know
I… I complained of fatigue after my journey?
MRS. ALVING. Yes? And?
OSWALD. … That isn't that that’s wrong with me. It’s not ordinary fatigue.
MRS. ALVING. [Shifting uncomfortably.] Oh Oswald, what on earth—
OSWALD. Be still, mother, please. Sit. Take it quietly. … I'm not ill. Not what is commonly called
"ill." Mother… my mind is withered. It’s ruined. I can never work again! [He collapses on her.]
MRS. ALVING. No, no! Oswald! I’m sure you—
OSWALD. Never work again! That’s a living death! Mother, can you imagine anything so
horrible?
MRS. ALVING. Oswald, I don’t understand. How could this have happened?
OSWALD. That's what I can’t possibly grasp. I’ve never lived a wild life—never, in any respect.
Please don’t believe that of me, mother! I've never done that.
MRS. ALVING. I know you haven't, Oswald.
OSWALD. But this has happened, all the same. This awful misfortune!
MRS. ALVING. But it will pass, my dear! It's nothing but over-work.
OSWALD. I thought so too, at first. But that’s not it.
MRS. ALVING. … How long has this been bothering you?
OSWALD. It started after I had last been here, and then returned to Paris. I began to feel the
most violent pains in my head—in the back of my head and my neck. Like a jagged screw being
twisted into me. I thought it was nothing. Just the same headache that had plagued me as a child.
You remember those headaches? [MRS. ALVING looks at the floor to hide her thoughts.] But it
was something different. Far worse. I couldn't work! I wanted to paint a new picture, but my… my
powers would fail me. My mind was crippled. I couldn’t form any clear images. Everything in
front of me seemed to… swim… round and round. It hurt so much, and it terrified me. And so, I
finally sent for a doctor. And from him, I learned the truth.
[The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING appears, coming close to MRS. ALVING, then slowly
turning to OSWALD.]

23
 MRS. ALVING. A doctor?
OSWALD. I explained my symptoms, and then he asked me a ridiculous string of questions,
which I thought had nothing to do with anything. I couldn't see what he was getting at.
MRS. ALVING. What did he say?
OSWALD. … He said, "Since your birth… there has been something ‘worm-eaten’ about your
brain." He used that exact phrase. ‘Worm-eaten.’
MRS. ALVING. … Have you any idea what he meant by that?
OSWALD. I didn't understand what, or why, so I pleaded with him to put it more clearly. And
then, that old cynic said—do you know what he said? [Remembering and getting angry.] Aghhh!
MRS. ALVING. What did he say?
OSWALD. "The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.” [Lights fade.]

END OF ACT I

24
 ACT II: SCENE 1

OSWALD. "The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.”
MRS. ALVING. [Rising.] Of fathers?
OSWALD. Yes! Can you believe it? I nearly struck him across the face! And, of course, I
assured him such a thing was out of the question, but he stuck to his diagnosis. But then, when I
showed him your letters, the parts about father?
[The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING disappears.]
MRS. ALVING. Yes?
OSWALD. He had to admit he was wrong. But that’s when I realized the actual truth. … I
should never have joined with my friends in their joyous, care-free life. It was too much for my
body. That’s what’s so tragic, Mother! I brought this upon myself.
MRS. ALVING. No! You mustn’t believe that!
OSWALD. The doctor said there was no other explanation. Since it couldn’t be that nonsense
about father, it had to be my own lifestyle. Aghhh! Incurably ruined for life! By my own
carelessness! All I hoped to do in the world—oh, God, I can never dare to think of it. Oh, Mother,
if I could only live my life over again, and undo it all! [MRS. ALVING struggles more and more.]
At least, if it had been something I inherited—something I wasn't responsible for! But this? To
have thrown away, so stupidly, my own happiness. My life, my future!
MRS. ALVING. Oswald, it might not be—
OSWALD. And now all I can seem to do is bring these sorrow into your house. I’m sorry,
Mother. I almost wish you didn't care about me at all.
MRS. ALVING. Oh, Oswald! You are all I have! The only thing I care about. I love you.
OSWALD. [Clutching her, trying to smile.] … I know. I can see it now. [Adjusts himself.] Well,
now you know the whole story. And we won't speak of it anymore. Would you please call for
something different to drink? Champagne?
MRS. ALVING. Oh, Oswald, you really shouldn’t—
OSWALD. Don’t refuse me, mother! Please! I need something to… to wash away these
agonizing thoughts. [MRS. ALVING pulls the bell-rope for REGINA.] And this endless, miserable
weather. It seems it’ll go on for months at a time. … You know, I can't recollect ever seeing the
sun any time I've ever been here.
MRS. ALVING. … Oswald, are you thinking of leaving me?
OSWALD. … No. I can’t think anything any longer.
MRS. ALVING. Oswald, be honest with me.
OSWALD. [A small laugh.] Haven’t I been honest enough already?
REGINA. [Entering, with a lamp.] Did you ring, ma'am?
MRS. ALVING. Yes. Leave that lamp in here.
REGINA. Yes, ma'am. [She sets the lamp down.]
MRS. ALVING. And Regina, bring us a bottle of champagne. A small one.
REGINA. Very well, ma'am. [She exits.]
OSWALD. [Hugging his mother.] I knew you wouldn't let your boy go thirsty.
MRS. ALVING. How could I deny you anything now?
OSWALD. [With newfound energy.] Truly, mother? Do you mean it?
MRS. ALVING. Do I mean…
OSWALD. That you couldn't deny me anything.
MRS. ALVING. Oswald, I’m afraid I don’t—

25
 REGINA. [Entering with a tray with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.] Shall I pour?
OSWALD. No, thank you. I shall myself.
[MRS. ALVING sends REGINA off.]
MRS. ALVING. What did you mean, about not denying you?
OSWALD. First let’s have a glass. Or two.
[He pours champagne into one glass, and is about to pour it into the other.]
MRS. ALVING. None for me. Thank you.
OSWALD. Very well, more for me.
[OSWALD pours the second glass and promptly drinks them both. He laughs.]
MRS. ALVING. Oswald. What is it?
OSWALD. You and Pastor Manders… you seemed odd at lunch. Nearly silent.
MRS. ALVING. Were we?
OSWALD. You were, indeed. [Pause. A smile comes over him.] But tell me, Mother. … What
do you think of Regina?
MRS. ALVING. … What of Regina?
OSWALD. Isn't she perfect?
MRS. ALVING. Oh, Oswald. You don't know her the way I—
OSWALD. Fine, fine, isn’t she… simply gorgeous to look at, mother? [He pours another glass
of champagne.]
MRS. ALVING. … Oswald, I’m sorry to say so, but Regina has serious faults—
OSWALD. Come now, Mother! Don’t we all? [He laughs and drinks again.]
MRS. ALVING. My boy, hear me. I am quite fond of Regina. But more so, I am responsible
for her.
OSWALD. Mother, listen. Regina is my only salvation!
MRS. ALVING. Salvation?
OSWALD. I can’t go on, bearing all this anguish alone.
MRS. ALVING. Alone? No, you have your mother to share it with you.
OSWALD. I thought so, and that’s why I came home. But no. I can’t put you through this. And
that’s why I must leave.
MRS. ALVING. No, no, Oswald! You can’t. Certainly not while you’re so ill—
OSWALD. If it were only the illness, I would stay. I promise. [He wanders restlessly.] But it’s
more than that. It’s all the torment. The sickening remorse. And the dread.
MRS. ALVING. Dread? Of what?
OSWALD. I… I can't describe it.
[MRS. ALVING pulls the bell-rope.]
OSWALD. What are you calling for?
MRS. ALVING. For your happiness. [REGINA enters.] More champagne. A large bottle.
REGINA. Yes, ma’am.
[REGINA exits.]
OSWALD. Ah, Mother, do you see? Isn't she splendid to look at? Beautifully made!
MRS. ALVING. [Sits.] Sit with me, Oswald.
OSWALD. [Sits.] Actually, I should tell you, mother. There’s something I… I owe Regina.
MRS. ALVING. What do you mean?
OSWALD. Oh, a bit of thoughtlessness on my part. Quite innocent. You see, when I was home
last, she would often ask me about Paris. And I happened to say to her one day, "Would you like
to go there?"

26
 MRS. ALVING. Oswald—
OSWALD. I know, I know. And she blushed, and her eyes came alive, and she said, "Yes, more
than anything." And I told her, in as many words, such a trip might, perhaps, be managed. But you
see, I had forgotten all about it. And then yesterday, I asked her whether she was glad I planned to
stay at home so long. She gave me such a baffled look, sad really. And she asked, "What about our
trip to Paris?"
MRS. ALVING. Oh, no, Oswald—
OSWALD. She had taken me seriously! She told me she had been thinking of me, of us, ever
since I mentioned the idea. She had even begun to learn French. For me. And Mother, before that
moment, I had hardly noticed Regina, but… in that moment, I studied her face… a beautiful,
wonderful, tender-hearted girl—
MRS. ALVING. Oswald!
OSWALD. Stop it, Mother! Listen! And it flashed upon me, just then, that my salvation lies
within her. Mother, Regina is just like me! Full of the joy of life!
MRS. ALVING. But Oswald, there can never be salvation in the joy of life?
[REGINA enters with a large bottle of champagne.]
REGINA. I'm sorry to have been so long. I had to go to the cellar.
OSWALD. That’s quite alright. Bring another glass. For yourself.
REGINA. … Mrs. Alving?
MRS. ALVING. … Another glass, Regina.
[REGINA exits.]
OSWALD. Oh, how she walks—so lively and beautifully—
MRS. ALVING. This can never be, Oswald!
OSWALD. Mother, it's settled. There’s no use fighting it.
[REGINA enters with a glass.]
OSWALD. Please sit down, Regina.
[REGINA looks at MRS. ALVING, who hesitantly nods for REGINA to sit. She does.]
MRS. ALVING. Oswald—what were you saying about the joy of life?
OSWALD. Yes. The joy of life, mother… I’m afraid it’s a thing you don't know much about.
I’ve never known it to exist here.
MRS. ALVING. Not when you’re with me?
OSWALD. Not here, mother, no. But you couldn’t understand that.
MRS. ALVING. I think I understand it now.
OSWALD. And the joy of work! It's the same thing! But you couldn’t know anything about
that, either. You see, here, people are brought up to think work is a curse or a punishment. That
life is misery, and it’s best to be done with it, and the sooner the better.
MRS. ALVING. … You’re right.
OSWALD. But in the greater world, nobody believes that! Out in the world, to live is a joy! It’s
ecstasy merely to be able to breathe. Mother, have you noticed everything I’ve painted—every
single thing—radiates with the joy of life? Light and sunshine and glorious skies and beautiful
faces beaming with happiness! … That’s why I'm afraid of staying here with you.
MRS. ALVING. Why? What are you afraid of?
OSWALD. I'm afraid all my instincts, my soul… would lose its joy and disintegrate into misery.
REGINA. Perhaps I ought to go?

27
 MRS. ALVING. No! [OSWALD and REGINA are taken aback by MRS. ALVING’s tone.] Stay.
‘Tis my turn to speak. Oswald, I’m going to tell you the way things really are. The whole truth.
And then you can choose.
[A joyful MANDERS enters.]
MANDERS. Aha! I tell you, we have had a most uplifting time down there!
OSWALD. As have we.
MANDERS. And, Mrs. Alving, I have decided. We really should stand by Engstrand and his
sailors' home. And Regina must go with him; it is her duty—
REGINA. No, thank you, sir.
OSWALD. Regina is going with me, Mr. Manders.
MANDERS. With you?
OSWALD. Yes. [He drops to one knee near REGINA.] As my wife. If that would please you.
MANDERS. Oh, merciful God.
OSWALD. Or if I choose to stay here, she'll stay with me.
REGINA. Stay here? What about—
MANDERS. I am absolutely shocked by you, Mrs. Alving!
MRS. ALVING. Everyone, stop! No one will choose one thing or the other, [to REGINA and
OSWALD] not until I have spoken the truth to the two of you.
MANDERS. I will not allow you to do this!
[REGINA begins to hear shouts from outside. A light begins to glow through the
windows.]
MRS. ALVING. I don’t need your permission! I can tell the truth, and I will. And I don’t care
what ideals may be destroyed by it!
OSWALD. Mother, speak! What is it?
REGINA. Quiet! Listen! Do you hear? … Shouting outside. [She goes to a window. OSWALD
follows her.]
OSWALD. What's going on? Where is that light coming from?
REGINA. Oh, God! Oh, God! Mrs. Alving! The Orphanage is on fire!
MRS. ALVING. [Rushing to the window, along with MANDERS.] On fire?
MANDERS. No! That’s impossible! I was just there.
OSWALD. No! Not father's Orphanage! [He rushes out. The glow intensifies.]
MRS. ALVING. The whole thing is ablaze!
MANDERS. Good Lord. … Mrs. Alving, that fire… is a fire of judgment upon this house.
MRS. ALVING. Of course, it is. Regina, fetch my shawl!
[The women exit. For a moment, MANDERS stands stunned, staring at the fire.]
MANDERS. [Suddenly realizing.] No, no, no—The insurance! Lord protect me!
[MANDERS runs out, as the ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING appears. He drifts center and
halts, staring angrily at the burning orphanage. Lights fade.]

28
 ACT II: SCENE 2

[There is only a faint glow from the fire. MRS. ALVING, her shawl still on, looks out
the window. REGINA stands near her.]
MRS. ALVING. Burnt to the ground. [Pause.] Why doesn’t Oswald come home? There's
nothing to be saved.
REGINA. Would you like me to go to—
MRS. ALVING. No. I shall go and look for him myself. [She exits, just as MANDERS is
entering from another door.]
MANDERS. Was that Mrs. Alving that just left?
REGINA. Yes, sir. To find Oswald.
MANDERS. … This is the most terrible night I have ever endured.
REGINA. Yes, I’m so sorry, sir. What an awful misfortune.
MANDERS. I can hardly bear to think of it.
REGINA. But how on earth could it have happened?
MANDERS. Don't ask me, Miss Engstrand! How should I know? Aghhh—you’re just like
you’re father! Don’t you start jumping to—!
ENGSTRAND. [Entering.] There you are, Pastor Manders!
MANDERS. [Scared.] Ahhh! Did you follow me here?
ENGSTRAND. This is a terrible, nasty business, Pastor.
MANDERS. I know it’s terrible, I know! [Away from ENGSTRAND, MANDERS collapses in
prayer.]
ENGSTRAND. [Privately to REGINA.] Watch me lay the trap for him, my girl. [Aloud.] Ya’
know, the worst of it is, it all started because of that damned prayer-meeting! Oh, God forgive me.
If only I hadn’t asked the Pastor to assist me, then he would have never come and caused the fire—
MANDERS. Now, look here! I did no such thing!
ENGSTRAND. There was no soul down there, except you, that laid a finger on those candles.
MANDERS. So you keep alleging! But it’s not true. Now listen, I don’t recall ever even having
a candle in my hand, much less—
ENGSTRAND. No, no, I saw, clear as daylight when you went to that candle and snuffed it out
with your fingers, and you threw away the snuff among the shavings. [ENGSTRAND gasps.] I’ll
bet that’s what did it! And I saw it with my own eyes—
MANDERS. That is completely ridiculous! Besides, you must believe me, it has never been my
habit to snuff candles with my fingers.
ENGSTRAND. [Including REGINA.] It was nasty, and a big risk, too, I should say. A terrible
risk. Isn’t that right, Pastor Manders?
MANDERS. Oh, stop it! Don’t antagonize me!
ENGSTRAND. You didn’t insure it, did you?
MANDERS. No! I told you that when we—
ENGSTRAND. [Another gasp.] Regina! Can you believe that? No insurance? And then to go
and set fire to the whole thing! Oh Lord! How tragic!
MANDERS. It is tragic!
ENGSTRAND. And a place of, uh, charity like that. That Orphanage was to be a blessing to
both the town and the whole country! [A realization.] Oh, no, Manders…
MANDERS. What is it?
ENGSTRAND. I expect the papers to be very rough with you. After all, you—

29
 MANDERS. Yes, I know! That might be the worst of the whole matter. The attacks and
accusations! Oh, Lord save me!
MRS. ALVING. [Entering.] Oswald won’t be pulled away from the Orphanage. [Somewhat
privately to MANDERS.] At least you you’ve escaped your speech.
MANDERS. Oh… Oh no, I would have gladly—
MRS. ALVING. No matter. It’s for the best. … I suppose you’ll be heading to catch the steamer?
MANDERS. Yes, and soon. It leaves in an hour.
MRS. ALVING. Well, take every one of those Orphanage papers with you. I don’t want to hear
another word about this affair. I have other things requiring my attention at the moment. Later on,
I shall grant you power of attorney, and then you can settle everything as you see fit.
MANDERS. Yes, of course. … The terms of the endowment must now be rewritten, you know.
MRS. ALVING. Of course they must.
MANDERS. It would be best for me to arrange for the property itself to go into the hands of the
parish. That land does have value. It can always be used for one purpose or another. Oh, and the
interest on the money in the bank, I think would best be applied to some new undertaking, one
with clear value to the town, so that I—
MRS. ALVING. As you wish, Pastor Manders. I have no attachment to the matter anymore.
ENGSTRAND. And, uh, don’t forget the sailors' home, Pastor.
MANDERS. Unfortunately, I may not be in control much longer. Public opinion may very well
force me to retire. That will depend on an official inquiry into the cause of the fire.
MRS. ALVING. Official inquiry?
MANDERS. Yes, standard procedure. Though, there’s no way of knowing the result until it
might be too late.
ENGSTRAND. [Moving closer to Manders.] Oh, but there is a way. For here stands good ole’
Jacob Engstrand. Your friend.
MANDERS. What do you mean?
ENGSTRAND. [Quietly.] Jacob Engstrand isn't the kind of man to, uh… desert such a noble
supporter of his. Not in that man’s hour of need.
MANDERS. But, Engstrand, how?
ENGSTRAND. Well, you might just think of Jacob Engstrand as a, uh… a guardian angel of
yours.
MANDERS. … I’m not sure I understand—
ENGSTRAND. [Growing frustrated and winking.] This wouldn’t be the first time Jacob
Engstrand has carried the weight of another man’s errors on his own shoulders.
MANDERS. Oh, Jacob! Yours is a beautiful and rare nature! And that settles it. I shall back you
and your sailors' home! That you can count on. [ENGSTRAND is giddy.] In fact, we’ll travel
together, Engstrand. Let’s be off.
[OSWALD enters.]
ENGSTRAND. [Quietly to REGINA.] Stick with me, my girl. A bed of roses it’ll be.
REGINA. [Shaking her head and hoping OSWALD notices.] Merci, mais non.
MANDERS. Goodbye, Mrs. Alving. I pray that the gracious spirit of Law and Order would
descend upon you and on this house. And may God—
MRS. ALVING. Goodbye, Pastor Manders.
ENGSTRAND. [To REGINA.] Well, goodbye, my child. If ya’ come across any trouble, you’ll
always be welcome on Little Harbor Street. [Magnanimously to MRS. ALVING and OSWALD.]

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My refuge for sailors shall be called "Captain Alving's Home for Sailors." And if I have any say
in how the house is run, I promise it’ll be worthy of the good man’s memory.
MANDERS. Engstrand, come along! Goodbye, all. [He and ENGSTRAND exit.]
OSWALD. What house was he talking about?
MRS. ALVING. Nothing, my dear. Just a plan for a sailor’s home in the town.
OSWALD. … It will only burn down like the other.
MRS. ALVING. Oswald? Why on earth do you say that?
OSWALD. Everything will burn. Anything attempting to honor father's memory… is cursed.
Including me.
MRS. ALVING. [Going to him.] Oh, Oswald! You really shouldn’t have stayed down there so
long. Oh, dear, your face is pooling with sweat. [She pulls out his own handkerchief and dries his
face.]
OSWALD. [Indifferently.] Thank you.
MRS. ALVING. You must be exhausted. You should sleep.
OSWALD. [Nervously.] No! Not sleep. Sleep will come soon enough.
MRS. ALVING. … You really are ill, Oswald.
REGINA. Mr. Alving is ill?
MRS. ALVING. … There, there, my boy. I shall stay by your side—
OSWALD. Yes and Regina too. Regina shall be with me always. You will rescue me, won’t
you, Regina?
REGINA. Sir?
MRS. ALVING. [Overlapping REGINA.] To the rescue?
OSWALD. Yes. When the time comes.
MRS. ALVING. But, Oswald, am I not here to rescue you?
OSWALD. Mother… this rescue is one you would never bring me. You! Ha! [A sudden
change.] Though, I suppose it really ought to be you. [Urgently.] And Regina, don’t stand there
so stiff! And please, you really should call me "Oswald." Won’t you?
REGINA. I… I don't think Mrs. Alving would like it.
MRS. ALVING. Call him Oswald. And come closer. [REGINA does so.]
MRS. ALVING. Listen, my boy. I need to take the burden off your mind. All the remorse and
self-hate you speak of.
OSWALD. I don’t think you can.
MRS. ALVING. Let me try. [The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING appears and drifts from behind
MRS. ALVING to behind OSWALD.] Before the fire, you spoke of the ‘joy of life.’… I wish you
could have known your father when he was young. He had the joy of life. So much so, he couldn’t
contain it.
OSWALD. I believe it.
MRS. ALVING. Looking in his eyes, you felt you were watching the sun rise. Such magnificent
strength and energy. He was irresistible. But he had to live here. A small, dull town, with no real
joy to offer him. Only boundaries. He was a rich man who, by the time he retired here, had no
ambition or life’s work where he could invest himself. Only the monotonous position of
Chamberlain, granted to him by the King. He didn’t have a single true friend who understood his
joy of life. Only drunks and loose women he’d meet abroad—
OSWALD. Mother!
MRS. ALVING. So the inevitable happened.
OSWALD. Inevitable?

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 MRS. ALVING. You told me yourself, what would happen to you if you stayed here. Your
father never found a healthy way to… express his joy of life, his passion. And that was too much
for him.
OSWALD. But, Mother, he had you.
MRS. ALVING. Oh, Oswald… I brought no happiness into his home. The women in my family,
they all taught me a great deal about duties and so forth, saying “duty is the secret” to a marriage.
So, that’s all there was in our home. And that kind of life proved unbearable for him.
OSWALD. But… why have you never spoken of this?
MRS. ALVING. I could never see how. … But the truth is… ever since before you were born,
I couldn’t satisfy your father. He lived a reckless life, and he died a sick and unfaithful man. And
it is his disease that lives in you. [Pause. After a moment of stillness, OSWALD goes to REGINA
for comfort.] And for years, I’ve dwelt on a single thought that has weighed me down more than I
could ever express. And it weighs heaviest when you’re at home.
OSWALD. Well? What is it? Go on!
MRS. ALVING. Regina belongs here.
OSWALD. Of course she belongs here—
MRS. ALVING. But not as a servant. Rather, as family. She is your father’s child.
[Silence. OSWALD is frozen, and REGINA is visibly shaken.]
OSWALD. Regina? … Regina is my—
REGINA. Me?
MRS. ALVING. Yes. That is the truth.
[The ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING disappears.]
REGINA. So my mother was that kind of woman.
MRS. ALVING. Regina, your mother had so many good qualities—
REGINA. But she was one of those women, all the same. I often suspected it, but… oh God.
[She crosses to MRS. ALVING.] Ma’am, may I be allowed to leave here at once?
MRS. ALVING. Do you really wish to, Regina?
REGINA. Yes, I do.
MRS. ALVING. You can do as you like, but—
OSWALD. [Going to REGINA, trying to turn her to him.] No, Regina! Your place is here! You
can’t go away now.
REGINA. [Pulling away sharply from OSWALD’s touch.] No!... Merci, mais non, Mr. Alving.
… I supposed I really should call you Oswald. Though, I can’t say I expected it to be under these
circumstances.
MRS. ALVING. Regina, I know I haven’t been honest with you—
REGINA. Quite the understatement! Do you realize, I wanted Oswald to be my— … And now
that there can’t be anything between us, I can't stay here in the country, simply tending to the sick.
OSWALD. Not even one so close to you?
REGINA. No, I can't. I won’t! … [To MRS. ALVING.] A girl must make the best of her youth,
or she'll be left to rot. Ya’ see, I, have the joy of life in me, too, Mrs. Alving.
MRS. ALVING. I believe you. But don't throw yourself away, Regina. Not on account of this.
REGINA. What will be, will be. I suppose if Oswald takes after his father, I must take after my
mother. Perhaps that’s my fate. … I must know. Does Pastor Manders know about all this?
MRS. ALVING. Yes. Everything.
REGINA. Well… I'd better hurry and get to the steamer. The Manders is reasonable man. And
I've got a right to any money he’s planning to give to Engstrand. [The truth hits her more deeply.]

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… You know, you could have brought me up as a gentleman's daughter. It would have suited me
better. But c’est la vie!
MRS. ALVING. Regina. This is your home. If you’re ever in need—
REGINA. No, thank you. Pastor Manders will look out for me, I’ll make sure of that. And if it
comes to it, I know of a fine place where I have every right to sleep and where I’ll fit right in.
MRS. ALVING. Where?
REGINA. "Captain Alving's Whorehouse for Sailors." Maybe I’ll find myself a Captain. Just
like my mother. … Goodbye, Mrs. Alving. [To OSWALD.] Adieu, Oswald. [She takes a few steps
further into the house, as to gather her belongings, but she is stopped by her own violent scream.
She exits the opposite direction.]
OSWALD. … She’s gone.
MRS. ALVING. [Goes to him.] Oswald, my dear boy—are you shaken?
OSWALD. Whatever for? Oh, all that about father, you mean? Why would you think that? Of
course, it came as a great surprise, but it makes no real difference to me.
MRS. ALVING. No difference? But he was your own father, surely—
OSWALD. Oh, father, father, father, father! I never knew anything of my father! Not before
today!
MRS. ALVING. But Oswald, he never—… shouldn’t a son love his father, whatever happens?
OSWALD. When a son has nothing to thank his father for? Has never known him? Mother,
you’re an intelligent person. Are you really blinded by that old superstition? That’s all it is. Just
one of those current notions of the world. One that too many fools accept as fact.
MRS. ALVING. Ghosts!
OSWALD. … Yes. One might call them ghosts. Ghosts of ideas, anyway.
MRS. ALVING. You’re right, Oswald. … But do you love me?
OSWALD. Ha! At least I know you.
MRS. ALVING. You know me? Is that all?
OSWALD. Mother, I’m… [He has a realization.] I’m grateful of how fond you are of me. And
now that I’m ill, I believe you can be quite useful.
MRS. ALVING. Yes, Oswald, I’m happy to be of any use you need. I see clearly that I’ve hurt
you, but I must win you back. I’m so—
OSWALD. [Impatiently.] Yes, yes—This is too much. Remember I’m sick, mother. I can't be
consumed with other people’s…—I have enough to worry about with just myself.
MRS. ALVING. I’m sorry. I shall be patient and easily satisfied.
OSWALD. But cheerful too, mother!
MRS. ALVING. Yes, Oswald. Whatever you need. But tell me… have I relieved you of all that
remorse and self-hate?
OSWALD. I suppose. But who will relieve me of my dread?
MRS. ALVING. Your dread?
OSWALD. [Wandering about.] Regina would’ve. Had I asked.
MRS. ALVING. I don't understand.
OSWALD. … It’s quite late, isn’t it, mother?
MRS. ALVING. Why, it’s early morning! Dawn is beginning to break over the mountains, and
the weather is clearing. Soon, you will be able to see the sun.
OSWALD. The sun? I'm glad. I may still have something to rejoice in… to live for—
MRS. ALVING. Yes, indeed!
OSWALD. Even if I can't work.

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 MRS. ALVING. You'll surely be able to work again, and soon, my dear. Now that you haven’t
all those thoughts to brood over any longer.
OSWALD. Yes. Thank you, Mother. … But there’s still one more thing more I need your help
with. [He sits.]
MRS. ALVING. Tell me. Anything.
OSWALD. Anything? You'll stick to that, mother?
MRS. ALVING. You have my word! Oswald, believe me when I say I have nothing in the world
to live for but you.
OSWALD. Then I’ll tell you. … Now, be still when you hear it.
MRS. ALVING. Yes! Now, what is the dreadful thing?
OSWALD. And don’t scream. Promise me that. We will talk about it quietly. Do you promise
me, mother?
MRS. ALVING. Yes, Oswald, I promise. Now speak.
OSWALD. … All this exhaustion… my inability to work… those are only parts of the illness I
inherited from father. [He points to his forehead.] It lives in here.
MRS. ALVING. Oh—
OSWALD. Shh, Mother, don’t! … It lives in here. Waiting. And it can break loose any day, at
any moment.
MRS. ALVING. Oswald, I’m so sorry!
OSWALD. Quiet, mother! I’ve had one attack already. It was indescribably awful, but at least
it was quick. When I realized what had happened, all of this dread of it happening again came
raging and pouring into me. So I came home to you as fast as I could. I’m terrified, Mother. Aghhh!
If it had only been an ordinary fatal disease! But Mother, the next time could be so frightening.
My mind going completely dark. Me speaking like a stupid baby all over again! Having to be fed!
Having to—[His dread keeps him from going further.]
MRS. ALVING. My boy has his mother to care for him, to nurse him—
OSWALD. No, never that! I can't bear to imagine living in that state! For years, Mother! Dying
so slowly. The doctor said it wouldn't necessarily kill me all at once. … He called it a sort of
‘softening of the brain.’ That expression sounds so nice. Like touching cherry-colored velvet.
Something so delicate.
MRS. ALVING. Oswald!
OSWALD. And now you have taken Regina from me! She would have rescued me.
MRS. ALVING. What are you saying?
OSWALD. The doctor told me, when it comes again, and it will—there will be no more hope.
MRS. ALVING. What a heartless thing to say!
OSWALD. I demanded it of him. I told him I had preparations to make. [He takes a small box
from his pocket, opens it, and shows it to her.]
MRS. ALVING. What is this?
OSWALD. Morphine.
MRS. ALVING. [Horrified.] Oswald, no!
OSWALD. I did everything I could to get my hands on twelve pills—
MRS. ALVING. [Grabbing at the pills.] Give me that box, Oswald!
OSWALD. Not yet! Not yet. [He puts the box back in his pocket.]
MRS. ALVING. Never, Oswald.
OSWALD. But you must. Regina would have. When the horror had finally come, and she saw
me helpless, like a drooling new-born baby… hopeless, past all saving—

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 MRS. ALVING. Never, in all the world, would Regina have done this!
OSWALD. Yes, she would’ve. She would’ve grown weary of trying to nurse me back to health.
MRS. ALVING. Then thank God she isn’t here!
OSWALD. Mother, don’t you see? Now only you can come to the rescue.
MRS. ALVING. No! I am your mother!
OSWALD. For that very reason!
MRS. ALVING. I gave you life!
OSWALD. I never asked you for life! And what sort of life have you given me? [Thrusting the
pill box in her face.] I beg you to take it back! If you truly have a mother's heart, as you say you
do, how could you bear to see me in that state? [Long pause.]
MRS. ALVING. As you wish.
OSWALD. Mother! You’ll do it?
MRS. ALVING. … Only should it be necessary. But, Oswald, we must hope it is never
necessary.
OSWALD. [He kisses her.] Let us hope. And let us live together. As long as we can. [He lies
down to rest.] Thank you, mother.
MRS. ALVING. Are you at peace now?
OSWALD. … Yes.
MRS. ALVING. [Quietly.] Oh, Oswald, all of this… it was only a nightmare. [The ghost of
CAPTAIN ALVING appears, drifting behind OSWALD.] Nothing but a bad dream. I promise.
Shhh… a long, sweet rest. At home with your mother. … There now. … I told you it would pass.
[Sunrise.] And see, Oswald, what a beautiful day we have ahead. Brilliant sunshine.
[She puts out the lamp and looks out the window, breathing a sigh of relief. While her back
is to him, OSWALD’s body seizes. As she begins to exit the room, he fights through his
locked jaw to call to her.]
OSWALD. Mother… give me the sun.
MRS. ALVING. ... What is it you need?
OSWALD. The sun. … The sun.
MRS. ALVING. [Goes to him.] Oswald, what is the matter? [OSWALD’s muscles begin to
relax. His face loses expression, and his eyes turn to a glassy stare.] What’s happening?
[Shrieking.] Oswald! Oswald! [She falls on her knees beside him and shakes him.] Oswald! Look
at me! Talk to me!
OSWALD. [Barely articulate, almost drooling.] The sun. … The sun.
MRS. ALVING. [She jolts up, panicked. Grabs her head and cries out to the heavens.] I cannot
bear this! [She looks at him and suddenly remembers.] The pills. [Shaking, she reaches into his
pocket, and pulls out the box of morphine. She takes a step back and shrieks in agony.] No! … I
can’t, Oswald. … But I must. I promised. [She opens the box, and moves to put the pills in his
mouth. Suddenly, she throws the pill box to the floor, and the pills scatter.]
OSWALD. The sun. … The sun.
[MRS. ALVING clutches OSWALD, as the ghost of CAPTAIN ALVING lingers.]

END OF PLAY

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 Premiere information:

The premiere performance of this adaptation was on October 2, 2019 in Arlington, TX at Tarrant
County College – Southeast campus, in the Roberson Theatre. The original cast and production
team is as follows:

CAST (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE):

CAPTAIN ALVING Kalumbu D. Tshibangu
REGINA Jasmine Shands
JACOB ENGSTRAND Quanard J. Carter
PASTOR MANDERS Anthony Garcia
MRS. HELEN ALVING Karen Sánchez Durán
OSWALD ALVING Leo A. Vibal

DIRECTOR AND DESIGNERS

Director Drew Hampton
Scenic & Costume Designer Paul Fiorella
Lighting Designer Aaron Ingersoll
Sound Designer Darius Booker
Props Designer Angela Inman
Stage Manager Kiera Gavitt

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