EFIMOVNA. It's the devil tormenting you. Don't you mind him, sir.
The damned one keeps whispering, "Drink! Drink!" And you answer
him, "I shan't drink! I shan't drink!" He'll go then.

FEDYA. It's drumming in his head. ... His stomach's leading him
on! [Laughs] Your houour's a happy man. Lie down and go to sleep!
What's the use of standing like a scarecrow in the middle of the
inn! This isn't an orchard!

BORTSOV. [Angrily] Shut up! Nobody spoke to you, you donkey.

FEDYA. Go on, go on! We've seen the like of you before! There's a
lot like you tramping the high road! As to being a donkey, you wait
till I've given you a clout on the ear and you'll howl worse than
the wind. Donkey yourself! Fool! [Pause] Scum!

NAZAROVNA. The old man may be saying a prayer, or giving up his
soul to God, and here are these unclean ones wrangling with one
another and saying all sorts of ... Have shame on yourselves!

FEDYA. Here, you cabbage-stalk, you keep quiet, even if you are in
a public-house. Just you behave like everybody else.

BORTSOV. What am I to do? What will become of me? How can I make
him understand? What else can I say to him? [To TIHON] The blood's
boiling in my chest! Uncle Tihon! [Weeps] Uncle Tihon!

SAWA. [Groans] I've got shooting-pains in my leg, like bullets of
fire. ... Little mother, pilgrim.