"Look out, you speak improper words." "For such words you'll get--oi, oi, oi!" said Zubov, insinuatingly.
"Silence!" roared Foma, with blood-shot eyes.

"Now they're grunting." "Gentlemen!" rang out Mayakin's calm, malicious voice, like the screech of a smooth-file on iron.

"Don't touch him! I entreat you earnestly, do not hinder him.

Let him snarl.

Let him amuse himself.