[Chekhov]
(Treplev, his head bandaged, and Medvedenko enter.)
IRINA: He's feeling faint.
SORIN: I'm fine . . . it's gone already.
TREPLEV: It's not serious, mother. Uncle often has these spells. You must go and lie down.
SORIN: For a little while. And then I'm going to town . . .
(He starts out, and Medvedenko offers his arm.)
MED.: I've a riddle for you: what uses four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening-- . . .
SORIN: --and at night is on it's back! I've heard it. Thank you, but I can manage by myself.
MED.: You don't have to pretend you're fine with me.
(And they leave.)