The Barbarian

Variously known as The Bear, The Boor and The Beast, this play is about a wealthy widow lamenting the death of a husband she never loved, confronted by a creditor on his last financial legs who has loved so deeply and so disastrously that he has sworn never to love again.  It is an almost feminist piece, in an odd way, and can be quite touching as well as funny.

 

Grigory Stepanovich Smirnov enters, pushing his way past Luka who endeavors to announce him. He in a state of extreme agitation.

LUKA: Madam, Mister.. uh...

SMIRNOV: Dispense with the formalities and let me in, you old...! (seeing Elyena he struggles for some control) Madam, I am honored to make your acquaintance. I am Grigory Stepanovich Smirnov, landowner and lieutenant of artillery, retired. It distresses me to disturb you in your mourning, but I'm afraid the situation urgently requires your attention.

POPOVA: I would be most appreciative if you would kindly come to your point, sir.

SMIRNOV: Most happy to. Your late husband... and he was a good man, I am honored to have known him and to have had him as a customer... but your late husband died, you see, in my debt to the order of some twelve hundred rubles. I have two documents of credit here as proof, if you wish. (she declines) Tomorrow I have an large interest payment due on an agricultural loan, and since I was expecting to be repaid several months ago, I'm afraid I must ask you for the full amount immediately.

POPOVA: Twelve hundred rubles!

SMIRNOV: (offering the documents again) As you see.

POPOVA: (she takes the documents) What was the debt for?

SMIRNOV: Oats.

POPOVA: Oats!?

SMIRNOV: I supplied his oats.

POPOVA: Twelve hundred rubles for...? Luka. Luka, oats, for Toby? Now, please. (Luka goes) Yes. Oats. Well, Mister... I'm sorry, your name is...?

SMIRNOV: Smirnov. Grigory Stepanovich.

POPOVA: (reading it also) Yes, of course! Mister Smirnov. If my late husband died in debt to you, then there is no question of payment, is there?

SMIRNOV: Excellent!

POPOVA: You shall have the full amount when my manager returns from town.

SMIRNOV: Thank you.

POPOVA: Tomorrow.

SMIRNOV: Tomorrow?

POPOVA: You have my word.

SMIRNOV: Tomorrow?

POPOVA: Tomorrow. I promise you. Well, perhaps the day after, but you will have it all back, every ruble.

SMIRNOV: The day after?

POPOVA: For today, you must forgive me, it is seven months exactly since my dear late husband passed away, and I am in no frame of mind to deal with business. I'm sure you understand.

SMIRNOV: Understand? Madame Popova, no, wait, you must understand. Unless I get that money today by tomorrow I'll be shaking hands with your dear late husband. If I miss tomorrow's payment, they'll have my estate up for auction the day after, and then what? I need that money now!

POPOVA: I will pay you, sir, tomor... rather, the day after tomorrow.

SMIRNOV: (exploding) No! Not the day after tomorrow, today!

POPOVA: I'm sorry, but I can't pay you today.

SMIRNOV: Why not?

POPOVA: My manager is...

SMIRNOV: What, are you helpless?

POPOVA: I am not helpless. I merely wish to conduct this matter properly...

SMIRNOV: Then pay me now!

POPOVA: Please, Mister... uh...

SMIRNOV: Smirnov!

POPOVA: Mister Smirnov, you behave as if it I'd heard you were coming and deliberately sent my manager away!

SMIRNOV: (pacing) Smirnov! Smirnov!

POPOVA: How was I to know you would suddenly arrive demanding payment on a debt I knew nothing about?

SMIRNOV: That's it then?

POPOVA: What is it?

SMIRNOV: You're not paying me?

POPOVA: Of course I am paying you. The day after tomorrow.

SMIRNOV: What good will it do me the day after tomorrow?

POPOVA: I don't know and I don't care. I can't pay you today. The subject is closed.

SMIRNOV: Oooh. The subject is closed. Good words for a servant, heh? Excellent! Wonderful. I'll write that down on my list! "The subject is closed." I met a tax collector on the way. He counseled patience. "Don't get so worked up, relax, it's only money." "It's only money..." A tax collector, what does he know about patience? I've been on the road since yesterday at dawn. I've been to a dozen people that owe me. All of them promise to pay, but so sorry, not just now. Some other time when it's more convenient! So there I am after a full day on the road without so much as a mutilated kopek to show for it. I'm tired, I'm dusty, but I manage to scrounge a place on the filthy floor of a grimy road house next to their stinking vodka barrel. But I'm lucky, I tell myself. The next day looks better. Madame Popova will pay me, she will understand. So here I am. I approach you with all the dignity and calm that I am capable of mustering at this moment, and the subject is closed. Well, I'll tell you what, my dear, my patience is very nearly closed.

POPOVA: I am sorry to hear of your travail, sir. However, it is quite impossible for me to assist you until my manager has...

SMIRNOV: I came to see you! What the hell do I care about your goddamn manager! Excuse me please.

POPOVA: Mister Smirnov! I am not accustomed to such coarse language in my house. I am afraid that I cannot remain here and listen to such...

Elyena Ivanovna gets up to leave. She tries to get past Smirnov during this speech, and eventually succeeds.

SMIRNOV: ...language? What about your language? Do you think "the subject is closed" is any less offensive to me, than a few "goddamns" are to you? As if your delicate nature is somehow going to help me make my interest payment? You can afford to be delicate. Your manager is away! But what am I supposed to do about my loan payment? Fly off in a balloon? I'll splatter my brains out against a brick wall, is more like it. Look at this list! Grozhdov, not at home. Yarosevich, skipped town. Kuritsin called me names and yelled. I threw him out his drawing room window. Mazutov -- oh, this is good -- an upset stomach. But you, you really take the cake. "Not in the frame of mind, today." Oh, yes, that rounds out the list handsomely. (writing) "Not in the frame of mind."

POPOVA: Please show yourself out. (she leaves)

SMIRNOV: (yelling after her) While I stand around and exercise patience! Well, guess what? I'm in no frame of mind either! I'm in no frame of mind to remain civilized! I'll happily stay here, right in this room and shout until you give me my money! Breaking a chair a minute until you run out and I have to break tables! You hear me? Servant! Because I'm in no frame of mind to... Am I scaring you? Am I? Good! I intend to terrify you before I leave! And I can, too! I can rip this little parlor of yours up in ten minutes and have time to kill the cat! Servant! (Luka appears, cowering at the door) If you want to see "no frame of mind", just you wait! What are you gawking at?

LUKA: You... shouted?

SMIRNOV: It's hot in here. I want some water. Because you know what? You know what? You're driving me out of my mind! Forget the frame. No frame here! Right out of it! Water! Now! (Luka goes) Alright. Fine. Maybe I'm getting a little carried away, here. Let's consider this rationally. A man she's done business with for years is about to disembowel himself right here on her carpet for want of a miserable, paltry twelve hundred rubles, and this widow, this silly girl, sits there, who would just as soon spit in my face as torture me, and tells me with no feeling at all that she's "not in the frame of mind, the subject is closed." There's as much rationale in that as blending your pipe tobacco with gunpowder! What do I expect from a woman, anyway? Business with a woman? It's like using a rock for sponge! What was I thinking, rational?

Luka enters with a glass of water. Smirnov downs most of it in one swallow.

SMIRNOV: Bleught! What is this?

LUKA: You wanted water?

SMIRNOV: Water? Do I look like I want to bathe? I'm thirsty! I want vodka, idiot!

LUKA: I thought you said water.

SMIRNOV: I said vodka! Vod-ka! Vod-ka? Got it?

LUKA: I'm supposed to say that Madame is indisposed...

SMIRNOV: Vod-ka!.

LUKA: ...and that she will not be seeing...

SMIRNOV: Now! (Luka runs out) Indisposed, my ass.

The Celebration

 

Tatyana enters wearing a raincoat and carrying a traveling bag. She is a very attractive young lady, about ten years younger than her husband. She speaks almost without pausing for breath.

SHIPUSHIN: Well, look who's here, wonderful, what perfect timing! Hah, hah, my dear, my dear! So glad to see you!

TATYANA: Sweetheart! (she kisses him affectionately)

SHIPUSHIN: My only love. We were just talking about you, weren't we, um... Kuzma Nikolayevich?

TATYANA: You missed me, didn't you? You don't feel well, do you? I didn't stop home, I came right here from the train. Oh, the stories I have to tell you! No, I'll keep my coat, I'm only here a minute. Hello, Kuzma Nikolayevich! So how's everything at home?

SHIPUSHIN: Couldn't be better. You look like a million! Being away agrees with you! You're even prettier than when you left. It is obviously to your profit. Being away.

TATYANA: Mama and Katya send kisses. Vasily Andreyevich sends a kiss. My Aunt sends you some jam. They're all upset you never write. Zena sends a kiss. Oh, if you only knew all that's been going on, the things that have been happening, oh, it makes me nervous just to mention it, terrible, dreadful stories. (teasing Shipushin, who is grinning like a fool) Oh, but look at that sad face, you're not one bit glad to see me, are you?

SHIPUSHIN: Hah, hah! Not glad, no, no, where did you get that idea? Not glad, haha!

He kisses her earnestly while Hirin clears his throat many times.

TATYANA: That's better. Poor, dear, Katya, my heart bleeds for her, poor, poor girl.

SHIPUSHIN: Yes, well, it's not that I'm not glad, it's that a Special Delegation from the Board is due any minute, and I wouldn't want you to feel inappropriately attired -- not on our Anniversary Day -- especially since everyone knows that you're usually the most elegantly attired lady in all of...

TATYANA: The Special Delegation, of course, "We have the great honor of presenting this address to...", the speech you wrote for yourself that they raised such a fuss about giving? So they gave in after all! Are they going to surprise you like you insisted they do? Did you have to give them bonuses, too?

SHIPUSHIN: Listen, sweetheart, it's better not to talk about... don't you think you ought to check to see how things are at home?

TATYANA: That can wait, I want to tell you the news first. It'll only take a minute, then off I go! Okay, here's everything, the whole week, right from the beginning. So, remember how I sat next to that big fat lady on the train and right away started reading -- because, you know, I hate talking on the train -- well, that worked fine for three stops, but when it started to get dark I got into one of my moods like I do, and well, there was this nice-looking young man across from me, dark hair, you know, so we started chatting, and then a navy officer joined us, then a student of some kind -- I had dropped a hint that I was single, so as you can imagine I was getting all kinds of attention -- and so we went on and on like that until midnight at least, and the handsome one with the dark hair was a real comedian, -- I laughed and laughed till I thought I'd burst -- and the navy man had a wonderful singing voice so when he found out my name was Tatyana, well, you know sailors, he started right in on "Onyegin I will not deny, I crave with Tatyana to lie!", what a riot!

SHIPUSHIN: Capital, yes, but don't forget, ...um, Kuzma Nikolayevich is here, so maybe it would be better if you told me all this later...

TATYANA: He can listen too, I don't mind. It's so interesting, and I'll be finished in a minute anyway, so anyway, Seryozha met me at the station, with another nice-looking young man, some kind of tax man I think, but with the most beautiful big eyes, and so Seryozha introduced us and off we went in an open taxi in this gorgeous weather...

There is a ruckus offstage and Mrs. Merchutkina enters carrying a roll of papers. She is a woman in her fifties of an imposing if somewhat rustic demeanor, who speaks in questions when she's trying to make a point.

MRS. M: Don't you touch me again, I'm here to see the boss! (to Hirin) Ah, sir, yes, your honor? Please let me make my introductions to you, sir, I am Nastashya Fiodorovna Merchutkina? My husband was a Secretary in Government Service? Well, I am his wife. Your honor, sir?

SHIPUSHIN: May I help you?

MRS. M: (to Shipushin) Yes, your honor, sir, my husband? The one I just spoke about? The one in Government Service? A First Secretary, sir. Well, he was on leave from his job for five months due to an illness? And all of a sudden, for no reason at all, he gets laid off! So I go to pick up his pay, and what do you think? They have deducted twenty-four rubles and thirty-six kopeks, no reason at all! So I demand that they tell me why? And they tell me that he borrowed from Mutual Aid, and that's why they took money out of his pay! But how could he borrow from Mutual Aid? He never asked me if he could! It doesn't add up! I'm a poor woman, I rent out my rooms to strangers just to keep food on the table. I have no money, I get dizzy spells, I get no respect from anybody, and nobody ever says anything nice to me. Excuse me. (she cries a little)

SHIPUSHIN: May I? (taking her petition)

TATYANA: (having lost her audience, she turns to Hirin) Oh, but I really have to start back from the very beginning of it all, you see, it all started when I got a letter from Mama last week -- a complete surprise -- and she mentioned that a fellow named Grendilevski had proposed to Katya -- my sister -- a nice man, well-mannered and everything, but no money and no job, but the worst of it was that Katya was so flattered that she lost all judgment and common sense and really seriously considered the proposal, so Mama wrote for me to come as soon as possible so that I could convince Katya that she was being silly to...

HIRIN: Pardon me for interrupting, but I'm trying to work, and now I've lost my place what with your Mama and Katya and I don't give a...

TATYANA: Never try to do two things at once, you should have been listening to me, after all I am the chairman's wife, be polite, you shouldn't be so irritable all the time, what's the matter anyway, are you in love?

SHIPUSHIN: Mrs. Merchutkina, I can make no sense of this, what exactly is your complaint?

TATYANA: Oooh, you are, you're in love, look, he's turning red!

SHIPUSHIN: My dear, do you think maybe you could wait in the reception room, I won't be a minute.

TATYANA: Well, alright, but I want to finish my story and I can't stay all day. (she exits)

SHIPUSHIN: You see, the problem is that you're in the wrong place, what you want has nothing whatsoever to do with this bank. What you should do is take this to the Government Department where your husband was secretary, and ...

MRS. M: I've done that, I've been to five different offices already and nobody pays any attention. I was furious, then my son-in-law, Boris Mateyevich? Bless the boy, told me to see you. "Shipushin, go to Shipushin, he can fix you up, he's got clout! He can move mountains!" So. Is he right? Can you move mountains? You're my last hope, your Honor, sir!

SHIPUSHIN: Mrs. Merchutkina, please, I understand, but there is nothing we can do for you. Your husband seems to have been a Medical Secretary for the War Department, and this is a private bank. Bank, War Department, no connection at all, do you see?

MRS. M: If you're suggesting my husband is a malingerer, your honor, sir, it's just not true. Here's a note from his doctor that proves it, see? Right here, read here, it says...

SHIPUSHIN: That's very good, but that doesn't change the fact that this is a bank and...

From the next room Tatyana laughs boisterously, and several men join in soon after.

SHIPUSHIN: (to Hirin) Oh my, what do you suppose she's saying to them? Now, Mrs. Merchutkina, I understand you've got a terrible problem, so what I would suggest is that you ask your husband where to...

MRS. M: That good-for-nothing, what does he know? With him it's always, "Leave me alone, keep your stupid nose out of my damn business." Men! Selfish and vain, all of them. (Hirin has a coughing fit)

SHIPUSHIN: One more time. Your husband worked for the Government, we have nothing to do with the Government, this is a private institution, a bank, a place where...

MRS. M: Fine, fine, I understand, your Honor, sir, I understand perfectly.

SHIPUSHIN: Capital. Now this is our Anniversary Day, and I am exceptionally busy, so good luck with your petition and good day.

MRS. M: What about my fifteen rubles? If you don't give money orders, I'll take cash.

SHIPUSHIN: The what...?

HIRIN Andrey Andreyevich, if...!

SHIPUSHIN: Hold on, just a minute! Now listen to me. Coming here for your husband's pay is like going to a drug store for a divorce, or like going to the tax bureau for a loan, or like...

TATYANA: (knocking) Andrey, can I come back in, now?

SHIPUSHIN: Hold on, just a minute! I can't help it if the Government cheated you, the Government cheats everybody, that's the Government. Whatever your problem is, this bank is not responsible! And this is an extraordinarily important day for us, I have tremendous amounts of very important business to attend to, and I would be forever indebted to you if you would vacate the premises. Right now!

MRS. M: Your honor, sir, I'm also an orphan! An orphan, and lame. And worried to death! I have to evict my tenants, my husband's pay, his health, my health, and still I have to clean and cook and now my son-in-law got laid off too! I'm asking so little...

SHIPUSHIN: Mrs. Merchutkina, this is not a good time, I cannot, cannot, afford talk to you now, you confuse me, besides which you're wasting everyone's valuable time including your own! (to Hirin in a mutter) She's mentally deficit, sure as I'm a Shipushin! You talk to her, explain that... you know. I'm getting a drink. (he slips out)

TATYANA: (offstage) Oh, Andrey, there you are, so where was I? Oh, yes, so...

HIRIN: (slamming his fists down on the desk) Alright! What the hell do you want?!

MRS. M: I'm not a well woman, I may look strong, I may pretend to be strong, but not one part of my body is healthy. Everything is falling apart. I get such dizzy spells I can hardly stand up, and I don't enjoy my morning coffee anymore.

HIRIN: Do I look like I care? I don't, I don't care, just tell me what you want?

MRS. M: Fifteen rubles now, the rest by the end of the month.

HIRIN: Didn't you hear him? This is a bank!

MRS. M: And that's why I'm here. See, here's the note from his doctor? Read here, right here, it says...

HIRIN: Are you stupid or crazy? What's in that head of yours, old rags?

MRS. M: I'm not asking for anything that belongs to anyone else, just my own money.

HIRIN: Wood shavings! You're wasting my time! Get out of here!

MRS. M: What about the money?

HIRIN: Sawdust and horse glue!

MRS. M: Listen, you animal! You might treat your own wife like this, but I'm the wife of a Government First Secretary, so watch your step!

HIRIN: Head (taps on his head), desk (knocks on his desk), the same material! Concentrate, see if you can understand, I'm going to call the guard and he is going to kick you out! Kick! Understand?

MRS. M: Fine, you call the guard.

HIRIN: I can get violent!

MRS. M: A temper like a goose! You don't frighten me!

HIRIN: I what?! Get out! I can get very violent! Can't I get through to you? Violent, me, insanely angry, out of control! Physically violent! Physically very violent!

MRS. M: Your bark's worse than your bite.

HIRIN: What!

MRS. M: I've dealt with your kind before.

HIRIN: Well I have never seen anything like you! I can't finish the report because... women, the whole bank's crawling with them, and then... and then you... I'm... I'm... I'm...

MRS. M: Think about it, what am I asking for? No charity, just justice. (sudden shock) Good heavens, look at you! Felt boots! In a beautiful office like this! (laughing derisively) He's a hick! He's just a country bumpkin!

The Proposal

 

CHUBUKOV: (running back in) He's limping back in this direction.

NATALIA: Limping! What did you do to him!?

CHUBUKOV: There's no worse fate than being the father of a single woman.

LOMOV: (off) Ouch! My heart! Ough, my foot.

CHUBUKOV: I'm going to the cellar for some champagne, and by the time I get back we had better have a happy excuse to drink it!

Chubukov leaves. Lomov limps in clutching his heart and reaching for a chair.

LOMOV: I'm going to faint, I must sit down...

NATALIA: (getting him a chair) Please accept my apology, Ivan Vasilevich, I remembered just after you left that the Ox Meadow is yours! So now lets talk about other things.

LOMOV: Oh, my heart -- thank you, it's mine, I know -- could I have some water? Excuse my face, it twitches.

NATALIA: (with forced cheerfulness) It's yours, all yours, I just remembered. I was wrong. But I'm sure you have other things to ask me. Please sit down.

LOMOV: The Meadow doesn't mean a thing to me, it's the principle...

NATALIA: (severely) Exactly, the principle... (changing) Here, next to me. What do you say we talk about something else?

LOMOV: And especially since I have proof. My aunt's grandmother let your grandfather's peasants use the land in exchange for...

NATALIA: I know all that and now it's settled, the Meadow is yours, yours, yours, yours, done, finished, yours! (she notices the damp pillow)

LOMOV: Yes. (he takes it from her to sit on)

NATALIA: So. What else shall we talk about, Ivan Vasilevich? (he is distracted by the pillow) Anything else on your mind? (pause) Nothing. (pause) Well! (pointedly) You're quite the hunter, I'm told, but still you've never married. Why is that?

LOMOV: Hunting! Yes, well, come November there'll be grouse. But this year, I don't know. It's really a shame.

NATALIA: That you've never married?

LOMOV: No, no, my dog. You know, Effort? Well, all of a sudden he's got a bad leg.

NATALIA: Your Effort is lame? You don't say.

LOMOV: I can't figure it out, a twist maybe, or a dog fight. At any rate it's terrible, he is my best dog, you know, and very expensive too! I paid Mironov a hundred a twenty-five rubles for him.

NATALIA Oh yes, much too expensive.

LOMOV: No, but as it turns out Effort was a real bargain. He's an excellent dog, you know.

NATALIA: Well, all I'm saying is that... Papa paid eighty-five for Pounce, and as you know, Pounce is a much better dog than Effort.

LOMOV: (laughing) Your Pounce better than my Effort! That's funny! That's really pretty funny... what a sense of humor.

NATALIA: Maybe he is a little young, but his pedigree is immaculate, and on points he's far superior to any other dog in the county, even to Volchanetski's.

LOMOV: But, Natalia Stepanovna, his jaw's overshot, and as you know, a dog with an overshot jaw has no grip, he can pounce but he can't grab.

NATALIA: News to me.

LOMOV: (laughing) Pounce can pounce but he can't grab! That's funny!

NATALIA: What do you mean, overshot?

LOMOV: His lower jaw is much shorter.

NATALIA: How do you know, have you measured it?

LOMOV: Yes. Yes, I have. I've measured it. He's fine for just pointing, I'll give you that, but for retrieval...

NATALIA: As you know, Ivan Vasilevich, Pounce is pure-bred, his parents were Desperate and Last Chance. What about your Effort?

LOMOV: Well, he...

NATALIA: Pure mutt, isn't he? And now he's lame, too, and that's not hard to fathom, considering how old he is.

LOMOV: He may be getting old, but five of your young Pounces still don't equal one of my old Efforts.

NATALIA: Wha...?

LOMOV: There's no argument! Effort is a real dog, Pounce is a real laugh, and that's that!

NATALIA: Wha...?

LOMOV: Everybody has a dog like Pounce wandering around somewhere, and any fool who paid more than twenty-five for a him ought to have his head examined!

NATALIA: I ought to? You know as well as I do that one Pounce is worth a hundred Efforts!

LOMOV: Do you think I'm stupid? That dog's jaw is overshot! Out to here!

NATALIA: Is not!

LOMOV: Is too!

NATALIA: Is not!

LOMOV: Shouting won't change the truth!

NATALIA: So what? The truth is wrong, anyway. You're crazy! Your Effort is finished, washed up!

LOMOV: Washed up? Washed up?

NATALIA: There's no argument! Your Effort and my Pounce aren't even in the same category!

LOMOV: (grabs his chest) Ouch! You're aggravating my... Stop it right now or I'll have a heart attack...

NATALIA: Only stupid people, argue!

LOMOV: I'll die right here on your rug! Right now! I mean it!

NATALIA: (twisting his arm behind his back) Who's got the better dog? Come on, say it!

LOMOV: I won't!

NATALIA: Say it!

LOMOV: I won't, I won't, I won't! Argh! I'm getting dizzy...

NATALIA: Why am I wasting my anger on your Effort?

LOMOV: Good question!

NATALIA: I mean, it's almost dead.

LOMOV: Whatever you say...

NATALIA: (she tightens her grip) It's the principle!

LOMOV: Ouch! My heart!

NATALIA: To hell with your heart!

LOMOV: If I die in your parlor, it's on your head!

NATALIA: You don't have the guts to die!

LOMOV: I will if you don't shut up about my... ouch!.. Effort!

NATALIA: It's my house and I'll talk as LOUD as I want to...!

LOMOV: You've been warned!

Chubukov rushes back in, carrying champagne.

CHUBUKOV: What's going on in here?

NATALIA: Papa, tell him right now that my Pounce is better than his Effort.

LOMOV: Pounce has got an overshot jaw, isn't that so Ste...Stu... Sprotch... he has, hasn't he?

CHUBUKOV: What of it? He's still the best dog around, as they say.

LOMOV: My Effort is better though, that's true, isn't it!?

CHUBUKOV: Now, now, let's be calm about this. Effort is a wonderful dog, well-bred, good stance, compact build, et cetera, et cetera, but let's face it, he's old and his muzzle's too short.

LOMOV: His what? (grabbing his heart)

NATALIA: His muzzle!

LOMOV: Wait one minute! On the hunt at Maruskin, Effort was nose to nose with the Count's dog all the way, while Pounce was trailing at least a half mile behind...!

CHUBUKOV: He was trailing because the Count's man whipped him, that's why he was trailing!

LOMOV: He whipped him because he was off chasing sheep on a fox hunt, that's why he whipped him!

CHUBUKOV: Why you little... I'll whip you if you don't... (stops himself) Let's be reasonable. Look, I understand, you think you've got a first class dog, et cetera, and you see someone else has got a better dog, as they say, and you're jealous, but why do you always want to pick a fight about it! No, I tell you why, it's because you're a hot-headed young nincompoop with oatmeal for brains!

LOMOV: Ouch, my heart!

NATALIA: Hunter, hunter, you're not a hunter!

LOMOV: Why do you keep it so cold in here!?

CHUBUKOV: And when you do go hunting, all you do is argue and make fun of other people's dogs. (stopping) Let's... change the subject. I don't want to say anything I'll regret. After all, it's not my fault you're a pathetic hunter.

LOMOV: You should talk! The only thing you ever hunt is political favors from the Count... ouch! (grabs his heart)

CHUBUKOV: What was that? Say that again!

LOMOV: You're a politician!

CHUBUKOV: That does it, that really does it!

LOMOV: Politician! Politician!

CHUBUKOV: I'll shoot him! I'll shoot him like a squawking pigeon!

LOMOV: Whoever heard a pigeon squawk? Some hunter you are! You don't scare me! The whole town knows that... ouch, ouhh my heart... that your wife used to beat you! (he falls into a chair)

CHUBUKOV: Liar!

LOMOV: Ohmygod, everything's spinning!

CHUBUKOV: Liar!!

LOMOV: Get a doctor! (he passes out)

CHUBUKOV: (screaming) Idiot son of a syphilitic whore! (suddenly reeling) I think I hurt myself. (goes for the water)

NATALIA: (jumping up and down with glee, in a childish singsong) Hunter, hunter, you're not a hunter, you can't even sit on a horse! (when she gets no response she pokes him)

CHUBUKOV: (drinks the water himself) That's better. (gets some more)

NATALIA: Papa! What's wrong with him?! (shaking him a little) Ivan Vasilevich? (screaming) He's dead!

CHUBUKOV: (choking on the water) Slap me on the back!

NATALIA: (shaking him harder) Ivan Vasilevich! (shaking him violently) Ivan Vasilevich, say something! Argue! (to Chubukov) Get a doctor!

CHUBUKOV: Slap me on the back! (she does) Harder!

NATALIA: Get a doctor, hurry!

CHUBUKOV: I don't need a doctor, just keep slapping!

NATALIA: Not you, Ivan Vasilevich!

CHUBUKOV: Why, what's the matter with him?

NATALIA: He's dead!

CHUBUKOV: He's just unconscious! (he slaps Ivan) Water. (slaps him some more) Ivan Vasilevich! (puts the glass to his lips) He won't drink. (throws water at him) If this gets out we'll never find you a husband! Oh, I want to die.