in itself, is nothing but a dead letter. You should have done something.
Voitski. Done something! Not every man is capable of being a writer perpetuum mobile like your Herr Professor.
Mme. Voitskaya. What do you mean by that?
Sonia. [Imploringly] Mother! Uncle Vanya! I entreat you!
Voitski. I am silent. I apologise and am silent. [A pause.
Helena. What a fine day! Not too hot. [A pause.
Voitski. A fine day to hang oneself.
Marina. Chick, chick, chick!
Sonia. What did the peasants want, nurse?
Marina. The same old thing, the same old nonsense. Chick, chick, chick!
Sonia. Why are you calling the chickens?
Marina. The speckled hen has disappeared with her chicks. I am afraid the crows have got her.
Workman. Is the doctor here? [To Astroff] Excuse me, sir, but I have been sent to fetch you.
Astroff. Where are you from?
Workman. The factory.
Astroff. [Annoyed] Thank you. There is nothing for it, then, but to go. [Looking around him for his cap] Damn it, this is annoying!
Sonia. Yes, it is too bad, really. You must come back to dinner from the factory.
Astroff. No, I won’t be able to do that. It will be too late. Now where, where— [To the Workman] Look here, my man, get me a glass of vodka, will you? [The Workman