KHLESTAKOV. You measly suckling pig. Why can
they eat and I not? Why the devil can't I eat, too?
Am I not a guest the same as they?

SERVANT. No, not the same. That's plain.

KHLESTAKOV. How so?

SERVANT. That's easy. THEY pay, that's it.

KHLESTAKOV. I'm not going to argue with you, simpleton!
[Ladles out the soup and begins to eat.]
What, you call that soup? Simply hot water poured
into a cup. No taste to it at all. It only stinks. I
don't want it. Bring me some other soup.

SERVANT. All right. I'll take it away. The boss
said if you didn't want it, you needn't take it.

KHLESTAKOV [putting his hand over the dishes].
Well, well, leave it alone, you fool. You may be used to
treat other people this way, but I'm not that sort. I
advise you not to try it on me. My God! What soup!
[Goes on eating.] I don't think anybody in the world
tasted such soup. Feathers floating on the top instead
of butter. [Cuts the piece of chicken in the soup.] Oh,
oh, oh! What a bird!--Give me the roast beef.
There's a little soup left, Osip. Take it. [Cuts the
meat.] What sort of roast beef is this? This isn't roast