KRASNÓV. There's nothing good in that, just swagger.
KÚRITSYN. Ah, brother! Beat your overcoat and it will be warmer; beat a wife—she'll be smarter.
TATYÁNA. Not every wife will allow herself to be beaten, and the one that allows it, isn't worth any other treatment.
ULYÁNA. Why are you giving yourself such airs all of a sudden, sister? Am I worse than you? You just wait awhile, you'll taste all that. We can clip your wings, too.
KRASNÓV. Yes, but be careful.
ULYÁNA. What are you saying? Married a beggar and you're putting on airs.
Do you think that you've married the daughter of a distinguished landowner?
KRASNÓV. What I think—is my business, and you can't understand it with your wits. You'd better keep still.
LUKÉRYA. What an interesting conversation—worth while hearing!
ULYÁNA. It seems to me she doesn't come from nobles but from government clerks. Not a very great lady! Goats and government clerks are the devil's own kin.
KRASNÓV. I told you to keep still! I shouldn't have to tell you ten times.
You ought to understand it at once.