Shiryàlov. And another thing I think of doing to punish him, is to get married myself and cut him out.
Antìp. Yes, why not? Marriage is a good thing.
Shiryàlov. It’s just possible, you know, that the good Lord will hear my prayers and send me a son and heir to comfort my old age. I’ll leave everything to him. The other is like a stranger to me; and my heart turns away from him. Only think of it; if I were to leave the fortune to him, what would he do? He’d just squander my money, the sweat of my brow, among his tailors and his actress wenches!
Antìp. Well then, marry; there’s no harm in that. Have you got any girl in particular in your eye?
Shiryàlov. No, friend; that’s just my trouble.
Antìp. Would you like me to find you one? Let’s have a drink first of all. (They drink.)
Shiryàlov. Are you in earnest?
Antìp. Quite. Why shouldn’t I find you one?
Shiryàlov (looks keenly at him). You’re fooling me!
Antìp. What should I fool you for? I haven’t got far to look, man; I’ve got a marriageable sister.