THE PROPOSAL
a play in one-act
by
Anton Chekhov
|
[A
drawing-room in CHUBUKOV'S house.]
[LOMOV
enters, wearing a dress-jacket and white gloves. CHUBUKOV rises to meet him.]
CHUBUKOV: My
dear fellow, whom do I see! Ivan Vassilevitch! I am extremely glad! [Squeezes
his hand] Now this is a surprise, my darling ... How are you?
LOMOV: Thank
you. And how may you be getting on?
CHUBUKOV: We
just get along somehow, my angel, to your prayers, and so on. Sit down, please
do. ... Now, you know, you shouldn't forget all about your neighbours, my
darling. My dear fellow, why are you so formal in your get-up? Evening dress,
gloves, and so on. Can you be going anywhere, my treasure?
LOMOV: No,
I've come only to see you, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch.
CHUBUKOV:
Then why are you in evening dress, my precious? As if you're paying a New
Year's Eve visit!
LOMOV: Well,
you see, it's like this. [Takes his arm] I've come to you, honoured
Stepan Stepanovitch, to trouble you with a request. Not once or twice have I
already had the privilege of applying to you for help, and you have always, so
to speak ... I must ask your pardon, I am getting excited. I shall drink some
water, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch. [Drinks.]
CHUBUKOV: [Aside]
He's come to borrow money! Shan't give him any! [Aloud] What is it, my
beauty?
LOMOV: You
see, Honour Stepanitch ... I beg pardon, Stepan Honouritch ... I mean, I'm
awfully excited, as you will please notice. ... In short, you alone can help
me, though I don't deserve it, of course ... and haven't any right to count on
your assistance. ...
CHUBUKOV:
Oh, don't go round and round it, darling! Spit it out! Well?
LOMOV: One
moment ... this very minute. The fact is, I've come to ask the hand of your
daughter, Natalya Stepanovna, in marriage.
CHUBUKOV: [Joyfully]
By Jove! Ivan Vassilevitch! Say it again--I didn't hear it all!
LOMOV: I
have the honour to ask ...
CHUBUKOV: [Interrupting]
My dear fellow ... I'm so glad, and so on. ... Yes, indeed, and all that sort
of thing. [Embraces and kisses LOMOV] I've been hoping for it for a long
time. It's been my continual desire. [Sheds a tear] And I've always
loved you, my angel, as if you were my own son. May God give you both His help
and His love and so on, and I did so much hope ... What am I behaving in this
idiotic way for? I'm off my balance with joy, absolutely off my balance! Oh,
with all my soul ... I'll go and call Natasha, and all that.
LOMOV: [Greatly
moved] Honoured Stepan Stepanovitch, do you think I may count on her
consent?
CHUBUKOV:
Why, of course, my darling, and ... as if she won't consent! She's in love;
egad, she's like a love-sick cat, and so on. ... Shan't be long! [Exit.]
LOMOV: It's
cold ... I'm trembling all over, just as if I'd got an examination before me.
The great thing is, I must have my mind made up. If I give myself time to
think, to hesitate, to talk a lot, to look for an ideal, or for real love, then
I'll never get married. ... Brr! ... It's cold! Natalya Stepanovna is an
excellent housekeeper, not bad-looking, well-educated. ... What more do I want?
But I'm getting a noise in my ears from excitement. [Drinks] And it's
impossible for me not to marry. ... In the first place, I'm already 35--a
critical age, so to speak. In the second place, I ought to lead a quiet and
regular life. ... I suffer from palpitations, I'm excitable and always getting
awfully upset. ... At this very moment my lips are trembling, and there's a
twitch in my right eyebrow. ... But the very worst of all is the way I sleep. I
no sooner get into bed and begin to go off when suddenly something in my left
side gives a pull, and I can feel it in my shoulder and head. ... I jump up
like a lunatic, walk about a bit, and lie down again, but as soon as I begin to
get off to sleep there's another pull! And this may happen twenty times. ...
[NATALYA
STEPANOVNA comes in.]
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Well, there! It's you, and papa said, "Go; there's a merchant
come for his goods." How do you do, Ivan Vassilevitch!
LOMOV: How
do you do, honoured Natalya Stepanovna?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: You must excuse my apron and néligé ... we're shelling peas for
drying. Why haven't you been here for such a long time? Sit down. [They seat
themselves] Won't you have some lunch?
LOMOV: No,
thank you, I've had some already.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Then smoke. ... Here are the matches. ... The weather is splendid
now, but yesterday it was so wet that the workmen didn't do anything all day. How
much hay have you stacked? Just think, I felt greedy and had a whole field cut,
and now I'm not at all pleased about it because I'm afraid my hay may rot. I
ought to have waited a bit. But what's this? Why, you're in evening dress!
Well, I never! Are you going to a ball, or what?--though I must say you look
better. Tell me, why are you got up like that?
LOMOV: [Excited]
You see, honoured Natalya Stepanovna ... the fact is, I've made up my mind to
ask you to hear me out. ... Of course you'll be surprised and perhaps even
angry, but a ... [Aside] It's awfully cold!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: What's the matter? [Pause] Well?
LOMOV: I
shall try to be brief. You must know, honoured Natalya Stepanovna, that I have
long, since my childhood, in fact, had the privilege of knowing your family. My
late aunt and her husband, from whom, as you know, I inherited my land, always
had the greatest respect for your father and your late mother. The Lomovs and
the Chubukovs have always had the most friendly, and I might almost say the
most affectionate, regard for each other. And, as you know, my land is a near
neighbour of yours. You will remember that my Oxen Meadows touch your
birchwoods.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Excuse my interrupting you. You say, "my Oxen Meadows.
..." But are they yours?
LOMOV: Yes,
mine.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: What are you talking about? Oxen Meadows are ours, not yours!
LOMOV: No,
mine, honoured Natalya Stepanovna.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Well, I never knew that before. How do you make that out?
LOMOV: How?
I'm speaking of those Oxen Meadows which are wedged in between your birchwoods
and the Burnt Marsh.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Yes, yes. ... They're ours.
LOMOV: No,
you're mistaken, honoured Natalya Stepanovna, they're mine.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Just think, Ivan Vassilevitch! How long have they been yours?
LOMOV: How
long? As long as I can remember.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Really, you won't get me to believe that!
LOMOV: But
you can see from the documents, honoured Natalya Stepanovna. Oxen Meadows, it's
true, were once the subject of dispute, but now everybody knows that they are
mine. There's nothing to argue about. You see, my aunt's grandmother gave the
free use of these Meadows in perpetuity to the peasants of your father's
grandfather, in return for which they were to make bricks for her. The peasants
belonging to your father's grandfather had the free use of the Meadows for
forty years, and had got into the habit of regarding them as their own, when it
happened that ...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: No, it isn't at all like that! Both my grandfather and
great-grandfather reckoned that their land extended to Burnt Marsh--which means
that Oxen Meadows were ours. I don't see what there is to argue about. It's
simply silly!
LOMOV: I'll
show you the documents, Natalya Stepanovna!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: No, you're simply joking, or making fun of me. ... What a
surprise! We've had the land for nearly three hundred years, and then we're
suddenly told that it isn't ours! Ivan Vassilevitch, I can hardly believe my
own ears. ... These Meadows aren't worth much to me. They only come to five
dessiatins [Note: 13.5 acres], and are worth perhaps 300 roubles [Note: £30.],
but I can't stand unfairness. Say what you will, but I can't stand unfairness.
LOMOV: Hear
me out, I implore you! The peasants of your father's grandfather, as I have
already had the honour of explaining to you, used to bake bricks for my aunt's
grandmother. Now my aunt's grandmother, wishing to make them a pleasant ...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: I can't make head or tail of all this about aunts and grandfathers
and grandmothers! The Meadows are ours, and that's all.
LOMOV: Mine
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Ours! You can go on proving it for two days on end, you can go and
put on fifteen dress-jackets, but I tell you they're ours, ours, ours! I don't
want anything of yours and I don't want to give up anything of mine. So there!
LOMOV: Natalya
Ivanovna, I don't want the Meadows, but I am acting on principle. If you like,
I'll make you a present of them.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: I can make you a present of them myself, because they're mine! Your
behaviour, Ivan Vassilevitch, is strange, to say the least! Up to this we have
always thought of you as a good neighbour, a friend: last year we lent you our
threshing-machine, although on that account we had to put off our own threshing
till November, but you behave to us as if we were gipsies. Giving me my own
land, indeed! No, really, that's not at all neighbourly! In my opinion, it's
even impudent, if you want to know....
LOMOV: Then
you make out that I'm a land-grabber? Madam, never in my life have I grabbed
anybody else's land, and I shan't allow anybody to accuse me of having done so.
... [Quickly steps to the carafe and drinks more water] Oxen Meadows are
mine!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: It's not true, they're ours!
LOMOV: Mine!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: It's not true! I'll prove it! I'll send my mowers out to the
Meadows this very day!
LOMOV: What?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: My mowers will be there this very day!
LOMOV: I'll
give it to them in the neck!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: You dare!
LOMOV:
[Clutches at his heart] Oxen Meadows are mine! You understand? Mine!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Please don't shout! You can shout yourself hoarse in your own
house, but here I must ask you to restrain yourself!
LOMOV: If it
wasn't, madam, for this awful, excruciating palpitation, if my whole inside
wasn't upset, I'd talk to you in a different way! [Yells] Oxen Meadows
are mine!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Ours!
LOMOV: Mine!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Ours!
LOMOV: Mine!
[Enter
CHUBUKOV.]
CHUBUKOV:
What's the matter? What are you shouting at?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Papa, please tell to this gentleman who owns Oxen Meadows, we or
he?
CHUBUKOV: [To
LOMOV] Darling, the Meadows are ours!
LOMOV: But,
please, Stepan Stepanitch, how can they be yours? Do be a reasonable man! My
aunt's grandmother gave the Meadows for the temporary and free use of your
grandfather's peasants. The peasants used the land for forty years and got as
accustomed to it as if it was their own, when it happened that ...
CHUBUKOV: Excuse
me, my precious. ... You forget just this, that the peasants didn't pay your
grandmother and all that, because the Meadows were in dispute, and so on. And
now everybody knows that they're ours. It means that you haven't seen the plan.
LOMOV: I'll
prove to you that they're mine!
CHUBUKOV:
You won't prove it, my darling.
LOMOV: I
shall!
CHUBUKOV:
Dear one, why yell like that? You won't prove anything just by yelling. I don't
want anything of yours, and don't intend to give up what I have. Why should I?
And you know, my beloved, that if you propose to go on arguing about it, I'd
much sooner give up the meadows to the peasants than to you. There!
LOMOV: I
don't understand! How have you the right to give away somebody else's property?
CHUBUKOV: You
may take it that I know whether I have the right or not. Because, young man,
I'm not used to being spoken to in that tone of voice, and so on: I, young man,
am twice your age, and ask you to speak to me without agitating yourself, and
all that.
LOMOV: No,
you just think I'm a fool and want to have me on! You call my land yours, and
then you want me to talk to you calmly and politely! Good neighbours don't
behave like that, Stepan Stepanitch! You're not a neighbour, you're a grabber!
CHUBUKOV:
What's that? What did you say?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Papa, send the mowers out to the Meadows at once!
CHUBUKOV:
What did you say, sir?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Oxen Meadows are ours, and I shan't give them up, shan't give them
up, shan't give them up!
LOMOV: We'll
see! I'll have the matter taken to court, and then I'll show you!
CHUBUKOV: To
court? You can take it to court, and all that! You can! I know you; you're just
on the look-out for a chance to go to court, and all that. ... You pettifogger!
All your people were like that! All of them!
LOMOV: Never
mind about my people! The Lomovs have all been honourable people, and not one
has ever been tried for embezzlement, like your grandfather!
CHUBUKOV:
You Lomovs have had lunacy in your family, all of you!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: All, all, all!
CHUBUKOV:
Your grandfather was a drunkard, and your younger aunt, Nastasya Mihailovna,
ran away with an architect, and so on.
LOMOV: And
your mother was hump-backed. [Clutches at his heart] Something pulling
in my side. ... My head. ... Help! Water!
CHUBUKOV:
Your father was a guzzling gambler!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: And there haven't been many backbiters to equal your aunt!
LOMOV: My
left foot has gone to sleep. ... You're an intriguer. ... Oh, my heart! ... And
it's an open secret that before the last elections you bri ... I can see stars.
... Where's my hat?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: It's low! It's dishonest! It's mean!
CHUBUKOV:
And you're just a malicious, double-faced intriguer! Yes!
LOMOV:
Here's my hat. ... My heart! ... Which way? Where's the door? Oh! ... I think
I'm dying. ... My foot's quite numb. ...
[Goes to the
door.]
CHUBUKOV: [Following
him] And don't set foot in my house again!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Take it to court! We'll see!
[LOMOV
staggers out.]
CHUBUKOV:
Devil take him! [Walks about in excitement.]
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: What a rascal! What trust can one have in one's neighbours after
that!
CHUBUKOV:
The villain! The scarecrow!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: The monster! First he takes our land and then he has the impudence
to abuse us.
CHUBUKOV:
And that blind hen, yes, that turnip-ghost has the confounded cheek to make a
proposal, and so on! What? A proposal!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: What proposal?
CHUBUKOV:
Why, he came here so as to propose to you.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: To propose? To me? Why didn't you tell me so before?
CHUBUKOV: So
he dresses up in evening clothes. The stuffed sausage! The wizen-faced frump!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: To propose to me? Ah! [Falls into an easy-chair and wails]
Bring him back! Back! Ah! Bring him here.
CHUBUKOV:
Bring whom here?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Quick, quick! I'm ill! Fetch him! [Hysterics.]
CHUBUKOV:
What's that? What's the matter with you? [Clutches at his head] Oh,
unhappy man that I am! I'll shoot myself! I'll hang myself! We've done for her!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: I'm dying! Fetch him!
CHUBUKOV:
Tfoo! At once. Don't yell!
[Runs out. A
pause. NATALYA STEPANOVNA wails.]
NATALYA STEPANOVNA.
What have they done to me! Fetch him back! Fetch him! [A pause.]
[CHUBUKOV
runs in.]
CHUBUKOV:
He's coming, and so on, devil take him! Ouf! Talk to him yourself; I don't want
to. ...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: [Wails] Fetch him!
CHUBUKOV: [Yells]
He's coming, I tell you. Oh, what a burden, Lord, to be the father of a
grown-up daughter! I'll cut my throat! I will, indeed! We cursed him, abused
him, drove him out, and it's all you ... you!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: No, it was you!
CHUBUKOV: I
tell you it's not my fault. [LOMOV appears at the door] Now you talk to
him yourself [Exit.]
[LOMOV
enters, exhausted.]
LOMOV: My
heart's palpitating awfully. ... My foot's gone to sleep. ... There's something
keeps pulling in my side.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA:
Forgive us, Ivan Vassilevitch, we were all a little heated. ... I remember now:
Oxen Meadows really are yours.
LOMOV: My
heart's beating awfully. ... My Meadows. ... My eyebrows are both twitching.
...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: The Meadows are yours, yes, yours. ... Do sit down. ... [They
sit] We were wrong. ...
LOMOV: I did
it on principle. ... My land is worth little to me, but the principle ...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Yes, the principle, just so. ... Now let's talk of something else.
LOMOV: The
more so as I have evidence. My aunt's grandmother gave the land to your
father's grandfather's peasants ...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Yes, yes, let that pass. ... [Aside] I wish I knew how to
get him started. ... [Aloud] Are you going to start shooting soon?
LOMOV: I'm
thinking of having a go at the blackcock, honoured Natalya Stepanovna, after
the harvest. Oh, have you heard? Just think, what a misfortune I've had! My dog
Guess, whom you know, has gone lame.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: What a pity! Why?
LOMOV: I
don't know. ... Must have got twisted, or bitten by some other dog. ... [Sighs]
My very best dog, to say nothing of the expense. I gave Mironov 125 roubles for
him.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: It was too much, Ivan Vassilevitch.
LOMOV: I
think it was very cheap. He's a first-rate dog.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Papa gave 85 roubles for his Squeezer, and Squeezer is heaps better
than Guess!
LOMOV:
Squeezer better than. Guess? What an idea! [Laughs] Squeezer better than
Guess!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Of course he's better! Of course, Squeezer is young, he may develop
a bit, but on points and pedigree he's better than anything that even
Volchanetsky has got.
LOMOV.
Excuse me, Natalya Stepanovna, but you forget that he is overshot, and an
overshot always means the dog is a bad hunter!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA:
Overshot, is he? The first time I hear it!
LOMOV: I
assure you that his lower jaw is shorter than the upper.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Have you measured?
LOMOV: Yes.
He's all right at following, of course, but if you want him to get hold of
anything ...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: In the first place, our Squeezer is a thoroughbred animal, the son
of Harness and Chisels, while there's no getting at the pedigree of your dog at
all. ... He's old and as ugly as a worn-out cab-horse.
LOMOV: He is
old, but I wouldn't take five Squeezers for him. ... Why, how can you? ...
Guess is a dog; as for Squeezer, well, it's too funny to argue. ... Anybody you
like has a dog as good as Squeezer ... you may find them under every bush
almost. Twenty-five roubles would be a handsome price to pay for him.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: There's some demon of contradiction in you today, Ivan
Vassilevitch. First you pretend that the Meadows are yours; now, that Guess is
better than Squeezer. I don't like people who don't say what they mean, because
you know perfectly well that Squeezer is a hundred times better than your silly
Guess. Why do you want to say it isn't?
LOMOV: I
see, Natalya Stepanovna, that you consider me either blind or a fool. You must
realize that Squeezer is overshot!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA:
It's not true.
LOMOV: He
is!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: It's not true!
LOMOV: Why
shout, madam?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Why talk rot? It's awful! It's time your Guess was shot, and you
compare him with Squeezer!
LOMOV:
Excuse me; I cannot continue this discussion: my heart is palpitating.
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: I've noticed that those hunters argue most who know least.
LOMOV:
Madam, please be silent. ... My heart is going to pieces. ... [Shouts]
Shut up!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: I shan't shut up until you acknowledge that Squeezer is a hundred
times better than your Guess!
LOMOV: A
hundred times worse! Be hanged to your Squeezer! His head ... eyes ... shoulder
...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: There's no need to hang your silly Guess; he's half-dead already!
LOMOV: [Weeps]
Shut up! My heart's bursting!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: I shan't shut up.
[Enter
CHUBUKOV.]
CHUBUKOV:
What's the matter now?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Papa, tell us truly, which is the better dog, our Squeezer or his
Guess.
LOMOV:
Stepan Stepanovitch, I implore you to tell me just one thing: is your Squeezer
overshot or not? Yes or no?
CHUBUKOV:
And suppose he is? What does it matter? He's the best dog in the district for
all that, and so on.
LOMOV: But
isn't my Guess better? Really, now?
CHUBUKOV:
Don't excite yourself, my precious one. ... Allow me. ... Your Guess certainly
has his good points. ... He's pure-bred, firm on his feet, has well-sprung
ribs, and all that. But, my dear man, if you want to know the truth, that dog
has two defects: he's old and he's short in the muzzle.
LOMOV:
Excuse me, my heart. ... Let's take the facts. ... You will remember that on
the Marusinsky hunt my Guess ran neck-and-neck with the Count's dog, while your
Squeezer was left a whole verst behind.
CHUBUKOV: He
got left behind because the Count's whipper-in hit him with his whip.
LOMOV: And
with good reason. The dogs are running after a fox, when Squeezer goes and
starts worrying a sheep!
CHUBUKOV:
It's not true! ... My dear fellow, I'm very liable to lose my temper, and so,
just because of that, let's stop arguing. You started because everybody is
always jealous of everybody else's dogs. Yes, we're all like that! You too,
sir, aren't blameless! You no sooner notice that some dog is better than your
Guess than you begin with this, that ... and the other ... and all that. ... I
remember everything!
LOMOV: I
remember too!
CHUBUKOV: [Teasing
him] I remember, too. ... What do you remember?
LOMOV: My
heart ... my foot's gone to sleep. ... I can't ...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: [Teasing] My heart. ... What sort of a hunter are you? You
ought to go and lie on the kitchen oven and catch blackbeetles, not go after
foxes! My heart!
CHUBUKOV:
Yes really, what sort of a hunter are you, anyway? You ought to sit at home
with your palpitations, and not go tracking animals. You could go hunting, but
you only go to argue with people and interfere with their dogs and so on. Let's
change the subject in case I lose my temper. You're not a hunter at all,
anyway!
LOMOV: And
are you a hunter? You only go hunting to get in with the Count and to intrigue.
... Oh, my heart! ... You're an intriguer!
CHUBUKOV:
What? I an intriguer? [Shouts] Shut up!
LOMOV:
Intriguer!
CHUBUKOV:
Boy! Pup!
LOMOV: Old
rat! Jesuit!
CHUBUKOV:
Shut up or I'll shoot you like a partridge! You fool!
LOMOV:
Everybody knows that--oh my heart!--your late wife used to beat you. ... My
feet ... temples ... sparks. ... I fall, I fall!
CHUBUKOV:
And you're under the slipper of your housekeeper!
LOMOV:
There, there, there ... my heart's burst! My shoulder's come off. ... Where is
my shoulder? I die. [Falls into an armchair] A doctor! [Faints.]
CHUBUKOV:
Boy! Milksop! Fool! I'm sick! [Drinks water] Sick!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: What sort of a hunter are you? You can't even sit on a horse! [To
her father] Papa, what's the matter with him? Papa! Look, papa! [Screams]
Ivan Vassilevitch! He's dead!
CHUBUKOV:
I'm sick! ... I can't breathe! ... Air!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: He's dead. [Pulls LOMOV'S sleeve] Ivan Vassilevitch! Ivan
Vassilevitch! What have you done to me? He's dead. [Falls into an armchair]
A doctor, a doctor! [Hysterics.]
CHUBUKOV:
Oh! ... What is it? What's the matter?
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: [Wails] He's dead ... dead!
CHUBUKOV:
Who's dead? [Looks at LOMOV] So he is! My word! Water! A doctor! [Lifts
a tumbler to LOMOV'S mouth] Drink this! ... No, he doesn't drink. ... It
means he's dead, and all that. ... I'm the most unhappy of men! Why don't I put
a bullet into my brain? Why haven't I cut my throat yet? What am I waiting for?
Give me a knife! Give me a pistol! [LOMOV moves] He seems to be coming
round. ... Drink some water! That's right. ...
LOMOV: I see
stars ... mist. ... Where am I?
CHUBUKOV:
Hurry up and get married and--well, to the devil with you! She's willing! [He
puts LOMOV'S hand into his daughter's] She's willing and all that. I give
you my blessing and so on. Only leave me in peace!
LOMOV: [Getting
up] Eh? What? To whom?
CHUBUKOV:
She's willing! Well? Kiss and be damned to you!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: [Wails] He's alive. . . Yes, yes, I'm willing. ...
CHUBUKOV:
Kiss each other!
LOMOV: Eh?
Kiss whom? [They kiss] Very nice, too. Excuse me, what's it all about?
Oh, now I understand ... my heart ... stars ... I'm happy. Natalya Stepanovna.
... [Kisses her hand] My foot's gone to sleep. ...
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: I ... I'm happy too. ...
CHUBUKOV:
What a weight off my shoulders. ... Ouf!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: But ... still you will admit now that Guess is worse than Squeezer.
LOMOV:
Better!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Worse!
CHUBUKOV:
Well, that's a way to start your family bliss! Have some champagne!
LOMOV: He's
better!
NATALYA
STEPANOVNA: Worse! worse! worse!
CHUBUKOV:
[Trying to shout her down] Champagne! Champagne!
CURTAIN
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar