ezer 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 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 m