Selected early plays

by Антон Чехов

  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 to-day, 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 hund
red 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.

  THE WEDDING

  CHARACTERS

  EVDOKIM ZAHAROVITCH ZHIGALOV, a retired Civil Servant.

  NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA, his wife

  DASHENKA, their daughter

  EPAMINOND MAXIMOVITCH APLOMBOV, Dashenka's bridegroom

  FYODOR YAKOVLEVITCH REVUNOV-KARAULOV, a retired captain

  ANDREY ANDREYEVITCH NUNIN, an insurance agent

  ANNA MARTINOVNA ZMEYUKINA, a midwife, aged 30, in a brilliantly red dress

  IVAN MIHAILOVITCH YATS, a telegraphist

  HARLAMPI SPIRIDONOVITCH DIMBA, a Greek confectioner

  DMITRI STEPANOVITCH MOZGOVOY, a sailor of the Imperial Navy (Volunteer

  Fleet)

  GROOMSMEN, GENTLEMEN, WAITERS, ETC.

  The scene is laid in one of the rooms of Andronov's Restaurant

  [A brilliantly illuminated room. A large table, laid for supper. Waiters in dress-jackets are fussing round the table. An orchestra behind the scene is playing the music of the last figure of a quadrille.]

  [ANNA MARTINOVNA ZMEYUKINA, YATS, and a GROOMSMAN cross the stage.]

  ZMEYUKINA. No, no, no!

  YATS. [Following her] Have pity on us! Have pity!

  ZMEYUKINA. No, no, no!

  GROOMSMAN. [Chasing them] You can't go on like this! Where are you off to? What about the grand ronde? Grand ronde, s'il vous plait! [They all go off.]

  [Enter NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA and APLOMBOV.]

  NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. You had much better be dancing than upsetting me with your speeches.

  APLOMBOV. I'm not a Spinosa or anybody of that sort, to go making figures-of-eight with my legs. I am a serious man, and I have a character, and I see no amusement in empty pleasures. But it isn't just a matter of dances. You must excuse me, maman, but there is a good deal in your behaviour which I am unable to understand. For instance, in addition to objects of domestic importance, you promised also to give me, with your daughter, two lottery tickets. Where are they?

  NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. My head's aching a little... I expect it's on account of the weather.... If only it thawed!

  APLOMBOV. You won't get out of it like that. I only found out to-day that those tickets are in pawn. You must excuse me, maman, but it's only swindlers who behave like that. I'm not doing this out of egoisticism [Note: So in the original]—I don't want your tickets—but on principle; and I don't allow myself to be done by anybody. I have made your daughter happy, and if you don't give me the tickets to-day I'll make short
work of her. I'm an honourable man!

  NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Looks round the table and counts up the covers] One, two, three, four, five...

  A WAITER. The cook asks if you would like the ices served with rum, madeira, or by themselves?

  APLOMBOV. With rum. And tell the manager that there's not enough wine. Tell him to prepare some more Haut Sauterne. [To NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA] You also promised and agreed that a general was to be here to supper. And where is he?

  NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. That isn't my fault, my dear.

  APLOMBOV. Whose fault, then?

  NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. It's Andrey Andreyevitch's fault.... Yesterday he came to see us and promised to bring a perfectly real general. [Sighs] I suppose he couldn't find one anywhere, or he'd have brought him.... You think we don't mind? We'd begrudge our child nothing. A general, of course...

  APLOMBOV. But there's more.... Everybody, including yourself, maman, is aware of the fact that Yats, that telegraphist, was after Dashenka before I proposed to her. Why did you invite him? Surely you knew it would be unpleasant for me?

  NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Oh, how can you? Epaminond Maximovitch was married himself only the other day, and you've already tired me and Dashenka out with your talk. What will you be like in a year's time? You are horrid, really horrid.

  APLOMBOV. Then you don't like to hear the truth? Aha! Oh, oh! Then behave honourably. I only want you to do one thing, be honourable!

  [Couples dancing the grand ronde come in at one door and out at the other end. The first couple are DASHENKA with one of the GROOMSMEN. The last are YATS and ZMEYUKINA. These two remain behind. ZHIGALOV and DIMBA enter and go up to the table.]

  GROOMSMAN. [Shouting] Promenade! Messieurs, promenade! [Behind] Promenade!

  [The dancers have all left the scene.]

  YATS. [To ZMEYUKINA] Have pity! Have pity, adorable Anna Martinovna.

  ZMEYUKINA. Oh, what a man!... I've already told you that I've no voice to-day.

  YATS. I implore you to sing! Just one note! Have pity! Just one note!

  ZMEYUKINA. I'm tired of you.... [Sits and fans herself.]

  YATS. No, you're simply heartless! To be so cruel—if I may express myself—and to have such a beautiful, beautiful voice! With such a voice, if you will forgive my using the word, you shouldn't be a midwife, but sing at concerts, at public gatherings! For example, how divinely you do that fioritura... that... [Sings] "I loved you; love was vain then...." Exquisite!