er worked once in my life. I was born in Petersburg, a chilly, lazy
place, in a family which never knew what work or worry meant. I remember
that when I used to come home from my regiment, a footman used to
have to pull off my boots while I fidgeted and my mother looked on in
adoration and wondered why other people didn't see me in the same light.
They shielded me from work; but only just in time! A new age is dawning,
the people are marching on us all, a powerful, health-giving storm is
gathering, it is drawing near, soon it will be upon us and it will drive
away laziness, indifference, the prejudice against labour, and rotten
dullness from our society. I shall work, and in twenty-five or thirty
years, every man will have to work. Every one!

CHEBUTIKIN. I shan't work.

TUZENBACH. You don't matter.

SOLENI. In twenty-five years' time, we shall all be dead, thank the
Lord. In two or three years' time apoplexy will carry you off, or else
I'll blow your brains out, my pet. [Takes a scent-bottle out of his
pocket and sprinkles his chest and hands.]

CHEBUTIKIN. [Laughs] It's quite true, I never have worked. After I came
down from the university I never stirred a finger or opened a book, I
just read the papers.... [Takes another newspaper out of his pocket]
Here we are.... I've learnt from the papers that there used to be one,
Dobrolubov [Note: Dobroluboy (1836-81), in spite of the shortness of his
career, established himself as one of the classic literary critics
of Russia], for instance, but what he wrote--I don't know... God only
knows.... [Somebody is heard tapping on the floor from below] There....
They're calling me downstairs, somebody's come to see me. I'll be back
in a minute... won't be long.... [Exit hurriedly, scratching his beard.]

IRINA. He's up to something.

TUZENBACH. Yes, he looked so pleased as he went out that I'm pretty
certain he'll bring you a present in a moment.

IRINA. How unpleasant!

OLGA. Yes, it's awful. He's always doing silly things.

MASHA.

"There stands a green oak by the sea.
And a chain of bright gold is around it...
And a chain of bright gold is around it...."

[Gets up and sings softly.]

OLGA. You're not very bright to-day, Masha. [MASHA sings, putting on her
hat] Where are you off to?

MASHA. Home.

IRINA. That's odd....

TUZENBACH. On a name-day, too!

MASHA. It doesn't matter. I'll come in the evening. Good-bye, dear.
[Kisses MASHA] Ma