PEER GYNT
Now, where in the world have I met before
something half forgotten that’s like this hobgoblin?
For met it I have, in the north or the south.
Was it a person? And, if so, who?
That Memnon, it afterwards crossed my mind,
was like the Old Men of the Dovre, so called,
just as he sat there, stiff and stark,
planted on end on the stumps of pillars.—
But this most curious mongrel here,
this changeling, a lion and woman in one,—
does he come to me, too, from a fairy-tale,
or from a remembrance of something real?
From a fairy-tale? Ho, I remember the fellow!
Why, of course it’s the Boyg, that I smote on the skull,—
that is, I dreamt it,— I lay in fever.—
[Going closer.]
The self-same eyes, and the self-same lips;—
not quite so lumpish; a little more cunning;
but the same, for the rest, in all essentials.—
Ay, so that’s it, Boyg; so you’re like a lion
when one sees you from behind and meets you in the daytime!
Are you still good at riddling? Come, let us try.
Now we shall see if you answer as last time!
[Calls out towards the SPHINX.]
Hei, Boyg, who are you?
