[Chekhov]
(Irina, Dorn and Masha sit on a bench on the lawn between the house and the lake.)
IRINA: (to Masha) Walk with me. (They get up.) I'm almost twice your age. Yevgeny, who looks younger?
DORN: You do, naturally.
IRINA: You see? It's because I'm always working and staying active, and you just sit around all day. Masha, you're not really living. Look at me - I don't worry about the future or growing old. What happens, happens.
MASHA: I feel like I'm a thousand years old. Sometimes I wish I were dead. (She sits again.) Not really. I just have to pull myself together.
(DORN hums a tune, as if in reply.)
IRINA: I'm as fastidious as an English duchess. I would never think of leaving the house in my dressing gown or with my hair undone - not even to come out here into the garden. I look young because I take care of myself. (She quickly moves up and down the lawn.) See how light I am on my feet? I could play croquet with a fifteen year old.
DORN: Good for you. (He picks up a book in his lap.) But we left off at the corn merchant and the rats . . .
IRINA: So go on. (She sits.) Or let me read. (She takes the book from Dorn.) It's my turn. (She finds the place to continue.) The rats . . . here we are . . .
(reading) "Writers are much in demand, even though for most people inviting a writer into the home is like a corn merchant inviting in the rats. But when a woman has her eyes on a writer, she traps him with flattery and favors . . ."
Well, that may be true in France but certainly not here. Russian women aren't that devious. Here a woman is already in love with a writer by the time she sets out to capture him. Look at Trigorin and me.
(Sorin enters with Nina, with Medvedenko pushing a wheelchair behind them.)