PODKHALYÚZIN. Swindle, indeed! Here, take five rubles more, and go to the devil.
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. No, wait! You'll not get rid of me with that.
TISHKA enters.
PODKHALYÚZIN. What are you going to do to me?
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. My tongue isn't bought up yet.
PODKHALYÚZIN. Oh, perhaps you want to lick me, do you?
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. No, not lick you, but to tell the whole thing to all respectable people.
PODKHALYÚZIN. What are you going to talk about, you son of a sea-cook! And who's going to believe you?
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. Who's going to believe me?
PODKHALYÚZIN. Yes! Who's going to believe you? Just take a look at yourself!