Comedy about the English language

  As English learners know best, the English language can be a funny and strange language. The following links are a collection of comedians making jokes about the English language. Enjoy!

WARNING: Most of these links contain explicit language (rude language) and may not be appropriate for children.

Eddie Izzard

 Language

 All You Need To Know About King Charles The First (start at 4 mins 58 secs)

George Carlin

Soft Language Euphemisms

The English Language

 

Ismo

Ass Is The Most Complicated Word In The English Language 

The Silent Struggle (with English)

To B or Not to B

I don't know Sh-t

Gad Elmaleh

Gad Elmaleh Points Out The Absurdities In The English Language 

Gad Elmaleh Sings A Song In Made-Up English 

What You Will Never Hear In France

 

Trevor Noah

Trevor Noah decodes American English

Don't lose your accent

 

Michael McIntyre

Americans Don't Understand English  

Discussing The Intricacies Of The English Language 

Boys By Anton Chekhov

Level: Upper intermediate

 "VOLODYA'S come!" someone shouted in the yard.

"Master Volodya's here!" bawled Natalya the cook, running into the dining-room. "Oh, my goodness!"

The whole Korolyov family, who had been expecting their Volodya from hour to hour, rushed to the windows. At the front door stood a wide sled, with three white horses in a cloud of steam. The sled was empty, for Volodya was already in the hall, untying his hood with red and chilly fingers. His school overcoat, his cap, his snowboots, and the hair on his temples were all white with frost, and his whole figure from head to foot diffused such a pleasant, fresh smell of the snow that the very sight of him made one want to shiver and say "brrr!"

His mother and aunt ran to kiss and hug him. Natalya plumped down at his feet and began pulling off his snowboots, his sisters shrieked with delight, the doors creaked and banged, and Volodya's father, in his waistcoat and shirt-sleeves, ran out into the hall with scissors in his hand, and cried out in alarm:

"We were expecting you all yesterday? Did you come all right? Had a good journey? Mercy on us! you might let him say 'how do you do' to his father! I am his father after all!"

"Bow-wow!" barked the huge black dog, Milord, in a deep bass, tapping with his tail on the walls and furniture.

For two minutes there was nothing but a general hubbub of joy. After the first outburst of delight was over the Korolyovs noticed that there was, besides their Volodya, another small person in the hall, wrapped up in scarves and shawls and white with frost. He was standing perfectly still in a corner, in the shadow of a big fox-lined overcoat.

"Volodya darling, who is it?" asked his mother, in a whisper.

"Oh!" cried Volodya." This is -- let me introduce my friend Lentilov, a schoolfellow in the second class. . . . I have brought him to stay with us."

"Delighted to hear it! You are very welcome," the father said cordially. "Excuse me, I've 
been at work without my coat. . . . Please come in! Natalya, help Mr. Lentilov off with his things. Mercy on us, do turn that dog out! He is unendurable!"

A few minutes later, Volodya and his friend Lentilov, somewhat dazed by their noisy welcome, and still red from the outside cold, were sitting down to tea. The winter sun, making its way through the snow and the frozen tracery on the window-panes, gleamed on the samovar, and plunged its pure rays in the tea-basin. The room was warm, and the boys felt as though the warmth and the frost were struggling together with a tingling sensation in their bodies.

"Well, Christmas will soon be here," the father said in a pleasant sing-song voice, rolling a cigarette of dark reddish tobacco. "It doesn't seem long since the summer, when mamma was crying at your going . . . and here you are back again. . . . Time flies, my boy. Before you have time to cry out, old age is upon you. Mr. Lentilov, take some more, please help yourself! We don't stand on ceremony!"

Volodya's three sisters, Katya, Sonya, and Masha (the eldest was eleven), sat at the table and never took their eyes off the newcomer.

Lentilov was of the same height and age as Volodya, but not as round-faced and fair-skinned. He was thin, dark, and freckled; his hair stood up like a brush, his eyes were small, and his lips were thick. He was, in fact, distinctly ugly, and if he had not been wearing the school uniform, he might have been taken for the son of a cook. He seemed morose, did not speak, and never once smiled. The little girls, staring at him, immediately came to the conclusion that he must be a very clever and learned person. He seemed to be thinking about something all the time, and was so absorbed in his own thoughts, that, whenever he was spoken to, he started, threw his head back, and asked to have the question repeated.

The little girls noticed that Volodya, who had always been so merry and talkative, also said very little, did not smile at all, and hardly seemed to be glad to be home. All the time they were at tea he only once addressed his sisters, and then he said something so strange. He pointed to the samovar and said:

"In California they don't drink tea, but gin."

He, too, seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, and, to judge by the looks that passed between him and his friend Lentilov, their thoughts were the same.

After tea, they all went into the nursery. The girls and their father took up the work that had been interrupted by the arrival of the boys. They were making flowers and frills for the Christmas tree out of paper of different colours. It was an attractive and noisy occupation. Every fresh flower was greeted by the little girls with shrieks of delight, even of awe, as though the flower had dropped straight from heaven; their father was in ecstasies too, and every now and then he threw the scissors on the floor, in vexation at their bluntness. Their mother kept running into the nursery with an anxious face, asking:

"Who has taken my scissors? Ivan Nikolaivich, have you taken my scissors again?"

"Mercy on us! I'm not even allowed a pair of scissors!" their father would respond in a lachrymose voice, and, flinging himself back in his chair, he would pretend to be a deeply injured man; but a minute later, he would be in ecstasies again.

On his former holidays Volodya, too, had taken part in the preparations for the Christmas tree, or had been running in the yard to look at the snow mountain that the watchman and the shepherd were building. But this time Volodya and Lentilov took no notice whatever of the coloured paper, and did not once go into the stable. They sat in the window and began whispering to one another; then they opened an atlas and looked carefully at a map.

First to Perm . . . " Lentilov said, in an undertone, "from there to Tiumen, then Tomsk . . . then . . . then . . . Kamchatka. There the Samoyedes take one over Bering's Straits in boats . . . . And then we are in America. . . . There are lots of furry animals there. . . ."

"And California?" asked Volodya.

"California is lower down. . . . We've only to get to America and California is not far off. . . . And one can get a living by hunting and plunder."

All day long Lentilov avoided the little girls, and seemed to look at them with suspicion. In the evening he happened to be left alone with them for five minutes or so. It was awkward to be silent.

He cleared his throat morosely, rubbed his left hand against his right, looked sullenly at Katya and asked:

"Have you read Mayne Reid?"

"No, I haven't. . . . I say, can you skate?"

Absorbed in his own reflections, Lentilov made no reply to this question; he simply puffed out his cheeks, and gave a long sigh as though he were very hot. He looked up at Katya once more and said:

"When a herd of bisons stampedes across the prairie the earth trembles, and the frightened mustangs kick and neigh."

He smiled impressively and added:

"And the Indians attack the trains, too. But worst of all are the mosquitoes and the termites."

"Why, what's that?"

"They're something like ants, but with wings. They bite fearfully. Do you know who I am?"

"Mr. Lentilov."

"No, I am Montehomo, the Hawk's Claw, Chief of the Ever Victorious."

Masha, the youngest, looked at him, then into the darkness out of window and said, wondering:

"And we had lentils for supper yesterday."

Lentilov's incomprehensible utterances, and the way he was always whispering with Volodya, and the way Volodya seemed now to be always thinking about something instead of playing . . . all this was strange and mysterious. And the two elder girls, Katya and Sonya, began to keep a sharp look-out on the boys. At night, when the boys had gone to bed, the girls crept to their bedroom door, and listened to what they were saying. Ah, what they discovered! The boys were planning to run away to America to dig for gold: they had everything ready for the journey, a pistol, two knives, biscuits, a burning glass to serve instead of matches, a compass, and four roubles in cash. They learned that the boys would have to walk some thousands of miles, and would have to fight tigers and savages on the road: then they would get gold and ivory, slay their enemies, become pirates, drink gin, and finally marry beautiful maidens, and build a plantation.

The boys interrupted each other in their excitement. Throughout the conversation, Lentilov called himself "Montehomo, the Hawk's Claw," and Volodya was "my pale-face brother!"

"Mind you don't tell mamma," said Katya, as they went back to bed. "Volodya will bring us gold and ivory from America, but if you tell mamma he won't be allowed to go."

The day before Christmas Eve, Lentilov spent the whole day poring over the map of Asia and making notes, while Volodya, with a languid and swollen face that looked as though it had been stung by a bee, walked about the rooms and ate nothing. And once he stood still before the holy image in the nursery, crossed himself, and said:

"Lord, forgive me a sinner; Lord, have pity on my poor unhappy mamma!"

In the evening he burst out crying. On saying good-night he gave his father a long hug, and then hugged his mother and sisters. Katya and Sonya knew what was the matter, but little Masha was puzzled, completely puzzled. Every time she looked at Lentilov she grew thoughtful and said with a sigh:

"When Lent comes, nurse says we shall have to eat peas and lentils."

Early in the morning of Christmas Eve, Katya and Sonya slipped quietly out of bed, and went to find out how the boys meant to run away to America. They crept to their door.

"Then you don't mean to go?" Lentilov was saying angrily. "Speak out: aren't you going?"

"Oh dear," Volodya wept softly. "How can I go? I feel so unhappy about mamma."

"My pale-face brother, I pray you, let us set off. You declared you were going, you egged me on, and now the time comes, you back out!"

"I . . . I . . . I'm backing out, but I . . . I . . . I'm sorry for mamma."

"Say once and for all, are you going or are you not?"

"I am going, only . . . wait a little . . . I want to be at home a little."

"In that case I will go by myself," Lentilov declared. "I can get on without you. And you wanted to hunt tigers and fight! Since that's how it is, give me back my cartridges!"

At this Volodya cried so bitterly that his sisters could not help crying too. Silence followed.

"So you are not coming?" Lentilov began again.

"I . . . I . . . I am coming!"

"WeIl, put on your things, then."

And Lentilov tried to cheer Volodya up by singing the praises of America, growling like a tiger, pretending to be a steamer, scolding him, and promising to give him all the ivory and lions' and tigers' skins.

And this thin, dark boy, with his freckles and his bristling shock of hair, impressed the little girls as an extraordinary remarkable person. He was a hero, a determined character, who knew no fear, and he growled so ferociously, that, standing at the door, they really might imagine there was a tiger or lion inside. When the little girls went back to their room and dressed, Katya's eyes were full of tears, and she said:

"Oh, I feel so frightened!"

Everything was as usual till two o'clock, when they sat down to dinner. Then it appeared that the boys were not in the house. They sent to the servants' quarters, to the stables, to the bailiff's cottage. They were not to be found. They sent into the village -- they were not there.

At tea, too, the boys were still absent, and by supper-time Volodya's mother was dreadfully uneasy, and even shed tears.

Late in the evening they sent again to the village, they searched everywhere, and walked along the river bank with lanterns. Heavens! what a fuss there was!

Next day the police officer came, and a paper of some sort was written out in the dining-room. Their mother cried. . . .

All of a sudden a sledge stopped at the door, with three white horses in a cloud of steam.

"Volodya's come," someone shouted in the yard.

"Master Volodya's here!" bawled Natalya, running into the dining-room. And Milord barked his deep bass, "bow-wow."

It seemed that the boys had been stopped in the Arcade, where they had gone from shop to shop asking where they could get gunpowder.

Volodya burst into sobs as soon as he came into the hall, and flung himself on his mother's neck. The little girls, trembling, wondered with terror what would happen next. They saw their father take Volodya and Lentilov into his study, and there he talked to them a long while.

"Is this a proper thing to do?" their father said to them. "I only pray they won't hear of it at school, you would both be expelled. You ought to be ashamed, Mr. Lentilov, really. It's not at all the thing to do! You began it, and I hope you will be punished by your parents. How could you? Where did you spend the night?"

"At the station," Lentilov answered proudly.

Then Volodya went to bed, and had a compress, steeped in vinegar, on his forehead.

A telegram was sent off, and next day a lady, Lentilov's mother, made her appearance and bore off her son.

Lentilov looked morose and haughty to the end, and he did not utter a single word at taking leave of the little girls. But he took Katya's book and wrote in it as a souvenir: "Montehomo, the Hawk's Claw, Chief of the Ever Victorious."

Vocabulary:  To help learners fully understand the audio and transcript, most vocabulary that might be unknown for this lesson’s level is provided. Vocab in bold is more useful for learners at the lesson’s target level. Try to choose 8 to 10 new words to learn from the story (in general, it’s best to try to learn no more than 8-10 new words a day).

Sled: a small vehicle that has a flat bottom or long, narrow strips of metal or wood on the bottom and that is used for moving over snow or ice. See picture

Delight: a strong feeling of happiness : great pleasure or satisfaction.

To bark: of a dog : to make a short loud sound.

Freckled: to have many small, brownish spots on someone's skin.

Gloomy: Sad or depressed.

Engaged: busy with some activity.

Scissors: a tool used for cutting paper, cloth, etc., that has two blades joined together in the middle so that the sharp edges slide against each other. See picture

Anxious: afraid or nervous especially about what may happen : feeling anxiety.

Yard: an outdoor area that is next to a house.

Whisper: to speak very softly or quietly.

Furry: covered with fur: the hairy coat of an animal especially when it is soft and thick.

Plunder: to steal things from (a place, such as a city or town) especially by force.

Suspicion: a feeling that someone is possibly guilty of a crime or of doing something wrong; or a feeling of doubt.

Bison: a large, hairy wild animal that has a big head and short horns: buffalo. See picture.

Stampede: an occurrence in which a large group of frightened or excited animals or people run together in a wild and uncontrolled way to escape from something, get out of a place, etc.

Tremble: to shake slightly because of some force.

Mustang: a small and strong wild horse of western North America.

Mosquito: a small flying insect that bites the skin of people and animals and sucks their blood.

Termite: a kind of soft, white insect that lives in groups, eats wood, and causes a lot of damage to wooden structures.

Hawk: Hawk: a kind of bird that kills other birds and animals for food — see picture

Claw: a sharp curved part on the toe of an animal (such as a cat or bird).

Victorious: having won a victory or having ended in a victory.

Compass: a device that is used to find direction by means of a needle that always points north.

Savage: wild, violent, or uncivilized.

Maiden: (old-fashioned) a young girl or woman who is not married.

Plantation: a large area of land especially in a hot part of the world where crops (such as cotton) are grown.

To pore over: to read or study (something) very carefully.

Languid: showing or having very little strength, energy, or activity.

To creep: to move slowly and quietly especially in order to not be noticed.

To egg on: to urge or encourage (someone) to do something that is usually foolish or dangerous.

To back out: to decide not to do something that you had agreed to do.

Cartridges: a tube which you put into a gun and which contains a bullet and explosive material.

To growl: a deep threatening sound made by an animal.

Steamer: a boat or ship that is powered by steam.

Ferocious: very violent or wild.

Lantern: a light that has usually a glass covering and that can be carried by a handle.

Arcade: an arched or covered passageway with many shops.

Gunpowder: a dry explosive substance that is used in guns.

To sob: to cry noisily while taking in short, sudden breaths.

Flung: past tense of to fling: to throw or push (something) in a sudden and forceful way.

Morose: very serious, unhappy, and quiet.

Haughty: having or showing the insulting attitude of people who think that they are better, smarter, or more important than other people.

To utter: to say something.

Questions:

1. What are some common ways that boys and girls play when they are young?

2. Did you dream of traveling and having adventures in other places when you were young?

3. Do you think young boys and girls have different ways of playing and socializing?

4. Do you think that young boys and girls are different in personalities? If so, is this difference because of nature or nurture or both?

5. What are some funny or perhaps dangerous things you did as a child?

Airistotle Repeats As World Air Guitar Champion

Listen to Story

Audio Time: 30 secs

Level: pre-intermediate and up

Vocabulary:  To help learners fully understand the audio and transcript, most vocabulary that might be unknown for this lesson’s level is provided. Vocab in bold is more useful for learners at the lesson’s target level. Try to choose 8 to 10 new words to learn from the story (in general, it’s best to try to learn no more than 8-10 new words a day).

Definitions are written with the help of various sources including  Merriam-Webster’s Learner’s Dictionary

Airistotle: A funny combination of the words “air” and “Aristotle”, the name of one of the most famous ancient Greek philosophers.

Air guitar: A form of dance and movement in which the performer pretends to play an imaginary guitar.

Championship: an important competition that decides which player or team is the best in a particular sport, game, etc.

To survive: to remain alive : to continue to live.

Reigning Champion: the most recent winner of a competition.

Champ: Champion: The winner of a competition.

Otherwise: in a different way or manner.

To defend: to fight or work hard in order to keep (something, such as a right, interest, cause, etc.) from being taken away.

Title: the status or position of being the champion in a sport or other competition.

Thrash out: to produce (something, such as an agreement or plan) by a lot of discussion; in this text: to play a type of loud and fast music.

Punk: a kind of loud and intense rock music that was most popular from the late 1970s to the early 1980s — often used before another noun.

Performance: an activity (such as singing a song or acting in a play) that a person or group does to entertain an audience.

Stellar: very good; excellent.

Marks: a number or letter that indicates how a student has performed in a class or on a test : grade.

Watch Airistotle thrash it out here: 

Discussion questions:

1. Do you like doing funny things like playing air guitar?

2. Have you ever been in a championship for something like a sport or another game?

3. If you participated in the air guitar championship, what song would you “play”?

The Proposal, by Anton Chekhov, Adapted for Intermediate Level

THE PROPOSAL

Adapted for intermediate English learners by Daniel Borsody

A play in one-act

By Anton Chekhov

CHARACTERS

STEPAN STEPANOVITCH CHUBUKOV, a landowner

NATALYA STEPANOVNA, his daughter, twenty-five years old

IVAN VASSILEVITCH LOMOV, a neighbor of Chubukov, thirty-five years old

SETTING

Russia, late nineteenth century, CHUBUKOV's country-house

[A 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 to see you! [Shakes his hand] Now this is a surprise, my dear ... How are you?

LOMOV: Thank you. And how are you getting on?

CHUBUKOV: We just get along somehow, thank God, and so on. Sit down, please do. ... Now, you know, you shouldn't forget all about your neighbors, my darling. My dear fellow, why are you dressed so formally? Evening dress, gloves, and so on. Can you be going anywhere?

LOMOV: No, I've come only to see you,  Stepan Stepanovitch.

CHUBUKOV: Then why are you in such formal clothes? 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,  Stepan Stepanovitch, to trouble you with a request. Not once or twice have I already asked you for help, and you have always, so to speak ... I must ask your pardon, I am getting excited. I shall drink some water,  Stepan Stepanovitch. [Drinks.]

CHUBUKOV: [Aside] He's come to borrow money! I won’t give him any! [Aloud] What is it, my friend?

LOMOV: You see, Honor Stepanitch ... I beg your pardon, Stepan Honouritch ... I mean, I'm awfully excited, as you will 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 around and around it! Say it! Well?

LOMOV: One moment ... this very minute. The fact is, I've come to ask to marry your daughter, Natalya Stepanovna.

CHUBUKOV: [Joyfully] My God! Ivan Vassilevitch! Say it again--I didn't hear it all!

LOMOV: I have the honor to ask ...

CHUBUKOV: [Interrupting] My dear fellow ... I'm so glad. ... Yes, indeed, [hugs and kisses LOMOV] I've been hoping for it for a long time. It's been my desire for a long time. And I've always loved you, as if you were my own son. May God give you both His help and His love, 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!  I'll go and call Natasha, and all that.

LOMOV: [Greatly moved]  Stepan Stepanovitch, do you think I may count on her consent?

CHUBUKOV: Why, of course, and ... as if she won't consent! She's in love; yes, she's most definitely in love, and so on. ... I won’t be long! [Exit.]

LOMOV: It's cold ... I'm shaking all over, just as if I'd got an examination before me. The important thing is, I must have my mind made up. If I give myself time to think, to hesitate, to talk a lot, or to look 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 nervousness, I'm excitable and always getting awfully upset. ... But the very worst of all is the way I sleep. I get into bed and begin to fall asleep when suddenly something in my left side starts to hurt, 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 it’s tight again! 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, Natalya Stepanovna?

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: You must excuse my work clothes ... we're preparing some food. 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 wonderful 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 dressed like that?

LOMOV: [Excited] You see, Natalya Stepanovna ... the fact is, I've made up my mind to ask you to. ... 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, 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 friendliest, and I might almost say the most affectionate, regard for each other. And, as you know, my land is a near neighbor of yours. You will remember that my meadows touch your birchwoods.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Excuse me for interrupting you. You say, "my meadows. ..." But are they yours?

LOMOV: Yes, mine.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: What are you talking about? The meadows are ours, not yours!

LOMOV: No, mine, Natalya Stepanovna.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Well, I never knew that before. Why do you think that?

LOMOV: How? I'm speaking of those meadows which are between your birchwoods and the Marsh.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Yes, yes. ... They're ours.

LOMOV: No, you're mistaken, 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, Natalya Stepanovna. The 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 let the peasants use the Meadows of your father's grandfather, in return, they were to make bricks for her. The peasants belonging to your father's grandfather were able to freely use the Meadows for forty years, and had got into the habit of thinking of them as their own, when it happened that ...

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: No, it isn't at all like that! Both my grandfather and great-grandfather thought that their land extended to the Marsh--which means that the 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 14 acres, and are worth perhaps 300 rubles , but I can't stand unfairness. Say what you will, but I hate unfairness.

LOMOV: Listen, I beg you! The peasants of your father's grandfather, as I have already had the honor of explaining to you, used to make bricks for my aunt's grandmother. Now my aunt's grandmother, wishing to make them a pleasant ...

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: I can't understand 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 give them to you.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: I can give them to you myself, because they're mine! Your behavior, Ivan Vassilevitch, is strange, to say the least! Up to now we have always thought of you as a good neighbor, a friend: last year we lent you our farming equipment for the harvest, although on that account we had to put off our own harvest till November, but you behave as if we were gypsies. Giving me my own land, indeed! No, really, that's not at all neighborly! In my opinion, it's even rude, if you want to know....

LOMOV: Then you’re saying  that I'm a land-grabber? Madam, never in my life have I grabbed anybody else's land, and I won’t allow anybody to accuse me of it. ... [Quickly steps to the water pitcher and drinks more water] The 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 workers out to the meadows this very day!

LOMOV: What?

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: My workers will be there this very day!

LOMOV: I'll kick them out!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: You just try to do that!

LOMOV: The meadows are mine! You understand? Mine!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Please don't shout! You can shout in your own house, but here I must ask you to restrain yourself.

LOMOV: If it wasn't, madam, for this awful, horrible feeling in my chest, if my whole inside wasn't upset, I'd talk to you in a different way! [Yells] 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 the meadows, we or he?

CHUBUKOV: [To LOMOV] My dear, the meadows are ours!

LOMOV: But, please, Stepan Stepanitch, how can they be yours? Do be a reasonable! 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 used to it as if it was their own, when it happened that ...

CHUBUKOV: Excuse me, my dear friend. ... You forget just this, that the peasants didn't pay your grandmother, 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 by yelling. I don't want anything of yours, and don't want to give up what I have. Why should I? And you know, my dear, that if you propose to go on arguing about it, I'd much sooner give 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: 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 angering yourself, and all that.

LOMOV: No, you just think I'm a fool and want to trick me! You call my land yours, and then you want me to talk to you calmly and politely! Good neighbors don't behave like that, Stepan Stepanitch! You're not a neighbor, you're a grabber!

CHUBUKOV: What's that? What did you say?

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Papa, send the workers out to the meadows at once!

CHUBUKOV: What did you say, sir?

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: The Meadows are ours, and I won’t give them up, won't give them up, won'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 thief! All your people were like that! All of them!

LOMOV: Never mind about my people! The Lomovs have all been honorable people, and not one has ever been tried for theft, like your grandfather!

CHUBUKOV: You Lomovs have had insanity in your family, all of you!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: All, all, all!

CHUBUKOV: Your grandfather was a drunk, and your younger aunt, Anna Mikalovna, ran away with an architect, and so on.

LOMOV: And your mother was far from beautiful! [grasps at his heart] Something pulling in my side. ... My head. ... Help! Water!

CHUBUKOV: Your father was a gambler!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: And there haven't been many gossipers to equal your aunt!

LOMOV: My left foot has gone to sleep. ... You're a liar. ... Oh, my heart! ... And it's an open secret that before the last elections you bribed ... 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 lying, double-faced rat! Yes!

LOMOV: Here's my hat. ... My heart! ... Which way? Where's the door? Oh! ... I think I'm dying. ... I can’t feel my foot. ...

[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 walks out.]

CHUBUKOV: Devil take him! [Walks about in excitement.]

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: What a horrible man! What trust can one have in one's neighbors after that!

CHUBUKOV: The horrible man!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: The monster! First he takes our land and then he abuses us.

CHUBUKOV: And to think that the fool tried to make a proposal, and so on! What? A proposal!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: What proposal?

CHUBUKOV: Why, he came here 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 fat goose! The old fool!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: To propose to me? Ah! [Falls into an easy-chair and cries] Bring him back! Back! Ah! Bring him here.

CHUBUKOV: Bring whom here?

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Quick, quick! I'm ill! Fetch him!

CHUBUKOV: What's that? What's the matter with you? Oh, unhappy man that I am! I'll shoot myself! I'll hang myself!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: I'm dying! Fetch him!

CHUBUKOV: Oy! 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, devil take him! 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 problem, Lord, to be the father of a grown-up daughter! I'll cut my throat! I will, indeed! We yelled at 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 beating awfully fast. ... My foot's gone to sleep. ...

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Forgive us, Ivan Vassilevitch, we were all a little angry ... I remember now: the meadows really are yours.

LOMOV: My heart's beating awfully. ... My meadows. ... My eyes feel strange. ...

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: 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 hunting soon?

LOMOV: I'm thinking of hunting pheasants (a type of bird),  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 rubles for him.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: It was too much, Ivan Vassilevitch.

LOMOV: I think it was very cheap. He's an excellent dog.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Papa gave 85 rubles for his Squeezer, and Squeezer is much 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 he's better than anything that even Vochansky has got.

LOMOV. Excuse me, Natalya Stepanovna, but you forget that he mouth is too big, and this means that the dog is a bad hunter!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Is he? It’s the first time I hear it!

LOMOV: I assure you that this is so.

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 way to know the parents of your dog at all. ... He's old and ugly.

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 rubles would be an excellent 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 has a bad mouth!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: It's not true.

LOMOV: He is!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: It's not true!

LOMOV: Why shout, madam?

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Why talk nonsense? 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 beating too quickly.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: I've noticed that those hunters argue most who know least.

LOMOV: Madam, please be silent. ... My heart is going to explode. ... [Shouts] Shut up!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: I won't shut up until you acknowledge that Squeezer is a hundred times better than your Guess!

LOMOV: A hundred times worse! Death to your Squeezer! His head ... eyes ... shoulder ...

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: There's no need to kill your silly Guess; he's half-dead already!

LOMOV: [cries] Shut up! My heart's bursting!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: I won'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 beg you to tell me just one thing: is your Squeezer’s mouth bad? Yes or no?

CHUBUKOV: And suppose it 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. But, my dear man, if you want to know the truth, that dog has two problems: he's old and his mouth is bad.

LOMOV: Excuse me, my heart. ... Let's take the facts. ... You will remember that on the Marussky hunt my Guess ran neck-and-neck with the best dog, while your Squeezer was left a whole kilometer behind.

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! 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: I remember, too. ... What do you remember?

LOMOV: My heart ... I can’t feel my foot. ... 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 insects, 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 hunting 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 gossip. ... Oh, my heart! ... You're a gossip!

CHUBUKOV: What? I a gossip? [Shouts] Shut up!

LOMOV: gossiper!

CHUBUKOV: Boy! dog!

LOMOV: Old rat!

CHUBUKOV: Shut up or I'll shoot you like a bird! 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 housekeeper controls you!

LOMOV: There, there, there ... my heart's burst! My shoulder. ... I can’t feel my shoulder...where is my shoulder? I die. [Falls into an armchair] A doctor! [Faints.]

CHUBUKOV: Boy!  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 waking up. ... Drink some water! That's right. ...

LOMOV: Where am I?

CHUBUKOV: Quickly get married and--well, to the devil with you! She's wants it! [He puts LOMOV'S hand into his daughter's] She's wants it. 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] I can’t feel my foot...

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: I ... I'm happy too. ...

CHUBUKOV: What a pressure off my shoulders!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: But ... still you will agree now that Guess is worse than Squeezer.

LOMOV: Better!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Worse!

CHUBUKOV: Well, that's a way to start your family happiness! Have some champagne!

LOMOV: He's better!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA: Worse! worse! worse!

CHUBUKOV: Champagne! Champagne!

END

Proposal: the act of asking someone to marry you.

Suspicious: having or showing a feeling that something is wrong or that someone is behaving wrongly or dishonestly.

To get on: to do or deal with something.

Aloud: in a voice that can be heard.

To deserve: used to say that someone or something should or should not have or be given something.

To consent:  to agree to do or allow something : to give permission for something to happen or be done.

To count on: to trust (someone) : to rely or depend on (someone) to do something

To be moved: to affect the feelings of (someone) : to cause (someone) to feel an emotion and especially sadness or sympathy.

To shake (someone’s hand): to grasp (someone's hand) with your hand and move it up and down when you are meeting or saying goodbye to each other or as a sign of friendship or agreement.

To make up one's mind: to decide to do something.

To hesitate: to stop briefly before you do something especially because you are nervous or unsure about what to do.

Merchant: somewhat old-fashioned: someone who buys and sells goods especially in large amounts.

Hay: grass that has been cut and dried to be used as food for animals.

To stack: to arrange (things) in a stack : to put (things) in a usually neat pile.

Greedy: having or showing a selfish desire to have more of something (such as money or food) : having greed.

Rot: to cause something to decay (to be slowly broken down by the natural processes that destroy a dead plant or body).

Privilege: a right or benefit that is given to some people and not to others.

To inherit: to receive (money, property, etc.) from someone when that person dies.

Affectionate: feeling or showing love and affection (a feeling of liking and caring for someone or something).

Meadow: a usually flat area of land that is covered with tall grass.

Birchwood: a forest from birch trees, white, pale trees whose outer bark can be pulled off easily.

Marsh: an area of soft, wet land that has many grasses and other plants.

Dispute: a disagreement or argument.

Peasant: a poor farmer or farm worker who has low social status.

To make fun of someone: to laugh at and make jokes about (someone or something) in an unkind way.

Behavior: the way a person or animal acts or behaves.

Harvest: the season when crops are gathered from the fields or the activity of gathering crops (plants that are grown by the farmer).

Gypsy: a member of a group of people who originally came from northern India and now live mostly in Asia, Europe, and North America.

To accuse:  to blame (someone) for something wrong or illegal : to say that someone is guilty of a fault or crime.

To kick out: to force (someone) to leave a place, group, school, etc.

To restrain: to prevent (a person or animal) from doing something.

To trick: an action that is meant to make someone believe something that is not true.

To take to court: To make some go to a formal legal meeting in which evidence about crimes, disagreements, etc., is presented to a judge.

Never mind: don’t worry about it.

Insanity: serious mental illness : crazy.

Gambler: Someone who likes to play a game in which you can win or lose money or possessions : to bet money or other valuable things.

Gossip: information about the behavior and personal lives of other people.

To bribe: something valuable (such as money) that is given in order to get someone to do something usually legal or dishonest.

To abuse: to treat (a person or animal) in a harsh or harmful way.

Fault: responsibility for a problem, mistake, bad situation, etc.

Lame: having an injured leg or foot that makes walking difficult or painful        .

Ruble: The unit of money in Russia.

Contradiction: the act of saying something that is opposite or very different in meaning to something else.

To lose one’s temper: to become angry.

Jealous: feeling or showing an unhappy or angry desire to have what someone else has.

To interfere: to become involved in the activities and concerns of other people when your involvement is not wanted.

Faint: to suddenly become unconscious.