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Follies of a Day; OR, The Marriage of Figaro (English)

<h2 class="nobreak lsp2" id="ACT_I">ACT I.</h2> SCENE, the Castle of Count ALMAVIVA. FIGARO and SUSAN. <div class="blockquot"> (Figaro measuring the chamber with a wand.) </div> Figaro. Eighteen feet by twenty-six, good. Susan. What art thou so busy about? Figaro. Measuring, to try if the bed our noble Lord intends to give us will stand well here. Susan. In this chamber! Figaro. Yes. Susan. I won’t lie in this chamber. Figaro. Why so? Susan. I tell you I won’t lie in this chamber. Figaro. Well but—— Susan. I don’t like it. Figaro. Your reason. [2] Susan. What if I have no reason?—What if I don’t chuse to give my reason? <div class="omitted"> Figaro. “Ah, ah!—Thus it is when once they think they have us fast. Susan. “Are you, or are you not my most obedient very humble servant? Figaro. “Your slave——(Bows very low.) Susan. “Oh! Figaro. “But wherefore take exception to the most convenient room in the whole house? Susan. “Yes, yes!—The most convenient!—(Satirically.) Figaro. “If during the night my Lady should be taken ill, she rings her bell, and crack!—in two steps—thou art standing at her side.—In the morning when my Lord wakes, he calls, I start, and pop—three skips and I am there. Susan. “Very true—And in the morning when my Lord has sent thee on some fine errand of an hour long, he starts from his bed as soon as Mr. Figaro’s back is turn’d, and crack!—in three skips—he—(significantly.) Figaro. “He? Susan. “Yes—he—— Figaro. “(Keeps rubbing his forehead and looking at Susan.) He! Susan. “He!——Dost thou feel any thing? Figaro. “(Presses his finger and thumb against his forehead) Buttons!—In pairs!——Mushrooms sprout not so suddenly—Yes, yes—it’s a fruitful spot.” </div> Susan. Thou knowest how our generous Count when he by thy help obtained Rosina’s hand, and made her Countess of Almaviva, during the first transports of love abolished a certain gothic right—— [3] Figaro. Of sleeping the first night with every Bride. Susan. Which as Lord of the Manor he could claim. Figaro. Know it!—To be sure I do, or I would not have married even my charming Susan in his Domain. Susan. Tired of prowling among the rustic beauties of the neighbourhood he returned to the Castle— Figaro. And his wife. Susan. And thy wife—(Figaro stares)—Dost thou understand me? Figaro. Perfectly! Susan. And endeavours, once more, secretly to purchase from her, a right which he now most sincerely repents he ever parted with. Figaro. Most gracious Penitent! Susan. This is what he hints to me every instant, and this the faithful Basil, honest agent of his pleasures, and my most noble music master, every day repeats with my lesson. Figaro. Basil! Susan. Basil. Figaro. Indeed! But if tough ashen plant or supple-jack twine not round thy lazy sides, Rascal— Susan. Ha, ha, ha! Why wert thou ever wise enough to imagine the portion the Count intends to give us was meant as a reward for thy services? Figaro. I think I had some reason to hope as much. Susan. Lord, lord! What great fools are you men of wit! Figaro. I believe so. Susan. I am sure so. [4] Figaro. Oh that it were possible to deceive this arch Deceiver, this Lord of mine! To lead him into some excellent snare, pocket his gold and— Susan. Hah! Now thou art in thy element—Gold and intrigue—Plots and purses—But let him that diggeth a pit beware he— Figaro. I’ll try—“The Lover’s jealousy and the Husband’s shame shall not deter me”—Your trick, most noble Count, is common place—A thousand blundering Boobies have had art enough to filch a Wife from the side of her sleeping, simple, unsuspecting Spouse, and if he complained, to redress his injuries with a cudgel—But to turn the tables on this Poacher, make him pay for a delicious morsel he shall never taste, infect him with fears for his own honor, to— Susan. (The bell rings) Hark! My Lady is awake—I must run, for she has several times strictly charged me to be the first at her bedside the morning of my marriage. Figaro. Why the first? Susan. The old saying tells us, that to meet a young Bride the first on the morning of her wedding-day is lucky to a neglected wife. (Going.) Figaro. Prithee, my Susan, give me a kiss before thou goest—It will quicken my wits, and lend imagination a new impulse. Susan. To be sure!—But if I kiss my Lover to-day what will my Husband say to me to-morrow? (seems to refuse, Figaro kisses her). Pshaw Figaro! when wilt thou cease to trifle thus from morning till night (playfully). Figaro. When I may trifle from night to morning (in the same tone). Susan. There, there—There’s all the kisses I shall give. <div class="blockquot"> (Kisses her hand at him and runs, he pursues to the side.) </div> [5] Figaro. Stop, stop, you cheating little knave; that was not the way you received them. (Returns) A sweet Girl! An Angel! Such wit! Such grace! and so much prudence and modesty too!—I am a happy fellow!—So Mr. Basil! Is it me, Rascal, you mean to practice the tricks of your trade upon?—I’ll teach you to put your spoon in my milk—But hold—Dissemble is the word—Feign we ignorance and endeavour to catch them in their own traps—I wondered why the Count, who had made me Steward and Inspector-general of the Castle, should change his mind so suddenly, and want to take me with him on his embassy to Paris, there to institute me his Messenger in ordinary—A cunning contrivance that—He, Plenipotentiary in chief, I, a break-neck Politician, and Susan, Lady of the back-stairs, Ambassadress of the bed-chamber—I dashing through thick and thin and wearing myself to a skeleton, for the good of my most gracious Lord’s family, and he labouring, night and day, for the increase of mine—Really, most honorable Count, you are too kind—What to represent his Majesty and me both at once—It’s too much, too much by half——A moment’s reflection friend Figaro on the events of the day—First, thou must promote the Sports and Feasting already projected, that appearances may not cool, but that thy Marriage may proceed with greater certainty; next, keep off one madam Marcelina, whose liquorish mouth waters at thee, and to whom thou hast given a Promise of Marriage, in default of the repayment of certain borrowed Sums which it would be very convenient to thy affairs never more to mention—Talk of the Devil and—— [6] <div class="blockquotxx"> Enter Doctor BARTHOLO and MARCELINA. </div> Marcelina. Good-morrow to Mr. Bridegroom. Figaro. Good-morrow to madam Marcelina—What! My old fat friend the Doctor! Are you there? Doctor. Yes, Knave’s face. Figaro. As witty, I perceive, and no doubt as wise as ever—And have you been complaisant enough to come thus far to see me married? Doctor. To see thee hang’d. Figaro. Most kind Doctor—But who takes care of your Mule? I know you have as much mercy on your Beast as you have on your Patient. Doctor. Do you hear him? Figaro. And you, gentle Marcelina, do you still wish to marry me—What, because I cannot fall in love with you, would you drive me to hate you? [Exit Figaro. Doctor. The Rascal will never mend. Marcelina. ’Tis you, Doctor, will never mend—“You are so eternally wise, dull and slow, that when a Patient has need of your assistance he may die before you get to him, like as formerly your Mistress got married in spite of your precautions.” Doctor. Was it to entertain me thus agreeably that you sent for me in such haste from Seville? Marcelina. Not entirely for that. Doctor. What then—Is any body ill? Is the Count indisposed? Marcelina. No, it is the Countess who is indisposed. Doctor. What the artful, the deceitful Rosina? What’s her disorder? [7] Marcelina. A faithless Husband. Doctor. A very common complaint indeed. Marcelina. The Count forsakes her, and falls in love with every fresh face. Doctor. I am glad of it—I am glad of it—I foresaw it—I thought Count Almaviva would revenge the wrongs of Doctor Bartholo. Marcelina. After toying with a thousand neighbouring Beauties, he now returns to the castle to terminate the marriage of Susan and Figaro. Doctor. Which he himself has made necessary. Marcelina. Oh no—But at which he wishes to act rather as a Principal than an Agent. Doctor. In private with the Bride. Marcelina. Even so. Doctor. She I suppose has no great objection. Marcelina. Charitable Doctor—Basil, however, her music master, who takes great pains to instruct her, says to the contrary. Doctor. Basil! What is that other Rascal here too?—Why the house is a den of Thieves—What does he do here? Marcelina. All the mischief he can—He persecutes me with his odious love unceasingly; I cannot get rid of him. Doctor. Marry him—I’ll answer for his cure. Marcelina. That’s what he wants—But pray Doctor, why will not you get rid of me by the same means? The claims of Justice and oaths out of number should— Doctor. So so so so—What is the matrimonial furor come upon you again? Marcelina. Our long lost son, Fernando! the dear pledge of my virgin love! were he but found, perhaps— Doctor. And so you sent for me to hear this stale rhodomontade? [8] Marcelina. “And are you, now you have lost your Rosina, as inflexible and unjust as ever?” Doctor. Pshaw! Marcelina. Well—Since you are determined never to marry me yourself, will you have the complaisance to aid me in marrying another? Doctor. With all my heart!—With all my heart!— Marcelina. Ah! (curtsies). Doctor. But who?—What miserable Mortal, abandoned of Heaven and Women— Marcelina. Who but the amiable, the gay, the ever sprightly Figaro? Doctor. Figaro! That Rascal! Marcelina. Youthful and generous! Doctor. As a Highwayman. Marcelina. As a Nobleman— Doctor. Pshaw, impossible! what on the very day he is going to marry another? <div class="omitted"> Marcelina. “Things more improbable have come to pass. Doctor. “But your motive? Marcelina. “For you, Doctor, I have no secrets. Doctor. “Women seldom have for Doctors. Marcelina. “I own our sex, though timid, is ardent in the pursuit of pleasure. There is, in all our bosoms, a small still voice which unceasing cries—Woman, be as beautiful as thou canst, as virtuous as thou wilt, but, at all events, be conspicuous, be talk’d about; for thy Wisdom, if thou hast it—if not for thy Folly. Doctor. “She utters Oracles—Well, well, accomplish this, and I will engage you shall be talk’d about.” </div> [9] Marcelina. We must endeavour to work upon Susan by fear and shame, for the more obstinately she refuses the amorous offers of the Count, the more effectually she will serve our purpose; disappointment and revenge will lead him to support my cause, and as he is sovereign Judge in his own Lordship, his power may make Figaro’s promise of marriage to me valid. Doctor. Promise—Has he given you any such promise? Marcelina. A written one—You shall see it. Doctor. By Galen, this is excellent! The rascal shall marry my old House-keeper, and I shall be revenged for the tricks he lately played me, and the hundred pistoles he contrived to cheat me of. Marcelina. (transported) Yes, yes, Doctor! I shall have him! He shall marry me! He shall marry me! <div class="blockquotxx"> Enter SUSAN, with a gown on her arm, and a cap and riband of the Countess, in her hand. </div> Susan. Marry you! Who is to marry you? Not my Figaro, I assure you, madam. Marcelina. Why not me, as soon as you, madam? Susan. Indeed! your most obedient, madam. Doctor. (aside) So now for a merry scolding match.—We were saying, handsome Susan, how happy Figaro must be in such a Bride— (Susan curtsies to the Doctor.) Marcelina. Not to mention the secret satisfaction of my Lord the Count. Susan. Dear madam, you are so abundantly kind. [10] Marcelina. Not so abundant in kindness, as a liberal young Lord—But I own it is very natural, he should partake the pleasures he so freely bestows upon his Vassals. Susan. (half angry) Partake—Happily madam, your Envy is as obvious, and your Slander as false, as your Claims on Figaro are weak and ill founded. <div class="omitted"> <ins class="corr" id="tn-10" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'Marcelino'"> Marcelina.</ins> “If they are weak, it is because I wanted the art to strengthen them, after the manner of madam. Susan. “Yet madam has ever been reckoned a mistress of her art. Marcelina. “I hope, madam, I shall always have your good word, madam. (Curtsies.) Susan. “Oh, I can assure you, madam, you have nothing to regret on that score, madam.” (Curtsies mockingly.) </div> Marcelina. The young Lady is really a very pretty kind of Person—(with a contemptuous side glance.) Susan. Oh yes (mimicking) The young Lady is at least as pretty as the old Lady. <div class="omitted"> Marcelina. “And very respectable. Susan. “Respectable! Oh no, that is the characteristic of a Duenna. Marcelina. “A Duenna! A Duenna! Doctor. (coming between them) “Come, come— Marcelina. “I—I—You—your very humble servant, madam. Susan. “Your most devoted, madam.” </div> Marcelina. Farewell, madam. (Exeunt Doctor and Marcelina.) Susan. Adieu, madam—this old Sibyl, because she formerly tormented the infancy of my Lady, thinks she has a right to domineer over every[11] person in the Castle—I declare I have forgot what I came for. <div class="blockquot"> (Susan bangs the gown on a great arm chair that stands in the room, and keeps the cap and riband of the Countess in her hand.) </div> <div class="blockquotxx"> Enter HANNIBAL the Page, running. </div> Susan. So, Youth! What do you do here? Page. Good morrow, Susan—I have been watching these two hours to find you alone. Susan. Well, what have you to say, now you have found me? Page. (Childishly amorous) How does your beauteous Lady do, Susan? Susan. Very well. Page. (Poutingly) Do you know, Susan, my Lord is going to send me back to my Pappa and Mamma? Susan. Poor Child! Page. Child indeed!—Umph!—And if my charming God-mother, your dear Lady, cannot obtain my pardon, I shall soon be deprived of the pleasure of your company, Susan. Susan. Upon my word!—He is toying all day long with Agnes, and is, moreover, in love with my Lady, and then comes to tell me he shall be deprived of my company. (Aside.) Page. Agnes is good natured enough to listen to me, and that is more than you are, Susan, for all I love you so. Susan. Love me!—Why you amorous little villain, you are in love with every Woman you meet. Page. So I am, Susan, and I can’t help it—If no-body is by, I swear it to the trees, the waters, and the winds, nay, to myself—Yesterday I happened to meet Marcelina— [12] Susan. Marcelina! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! Page. Why, she is a Woman, Susan. Susan. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! Page. And what’s more, unmarried? Oh how sweet are the words Woman, Maiden, and Love, in my ear! Susan. Ha! ha! ha!—He’s bewitch’d!—And what is the Count going to send you from the Castle for? Page. Last night, you must know, he caught me in the chamber with Agnes; begone, said he, thou little— Susan. Little what? Page. Lord, he called me such a name, I can’t for shame repeat it before a woman. Susan. And what were you doing in the chamber of Agnes? Page. Teaching her her part. Susan. Her part? Page. Yes, the love scene, you know, she is to play in the Comedy this evening. Susan. Which my Lord would chuse to teach her himself. (aside.) Page. Agnes is very kind, Susan. Susan. Well, well, I’ll tell the Countess what you say—But you are a little more circumspect in her presence. Page. Ah Susan, she is a Divinity! How noble is her manner! Her very smiles are awful! Susan. That is to say, you can take what liberties you please with such people as me. Page. Oh how do I envy thy happiness, Susan! Always near her! Dressing her every morning! Undressing her every evening! Putting her to bed! Touching her! Looking at her! Speaking to—What is it thou hast got there, Susan? Susan. (Counterfeiting the amorous air, and animated[13] tone of the Page.) It is the fortunate riband of the happy cap, which at night enfolds the auburn ringlets of the beauteous Countess. Page. Give it me—Nay, give it me—I will have it. Susan. But I say you shan’t (the Page snatches it, and runs round the great chair, dodging Susan) Oh my riband! Page. Be as angry as thou wilt, but thou shalt never have it again, thou shouldst have one of my eyes rather. Susan. I can venture to predict, young gentleman, that three or four years hence, thou wilt be one of the most deceitful veriest Knaves— Page. If thou dost not hold thy tongue, Susan, I’ll kiss thee into the bargain. Susan. Kiss me!—Do not come near me, if thou lov’st thy ears—I say, beg my Lord to forgive you, indeed! No I assure you—“I shall say to him, you do very right, my Lord, to send this little Rascal packing, who is not only in love with my Lady, but wants to kiss other folks into the bargain.” Page. “How can I help it, Susan”? Here, take this paper. Susan. For what? Page. It contains a Song I have written on thy beauteous Lady, my charming God-mother. Count. (without) Jaquez. Page. Ah! I’m undone!—’Tis my Lord! <div class="blockquot"> (The Page crouches down, and hides himself behind Susan’s petticoats and the great chair.) </div> [14] <div class="blockquotxx"> Enter Count ALMAVIVA. </div> (Page remains hid behind the great chair.) Count. So, charming Susan, have I found thee at last? But thou seemest frightened my little Beauty. Susan. Consider, my Lord, if any body should come and catch you here— Count. That would be rather mal-a-propos; but there’s no great danger. (The Count offers to kiss Susan.) Susan. Fie, my Lord! <div class="blockquot"> (The Count seats himself in the great chair, and endeavours to pull Susan on his knee, who resists.) </div> Count. Thou knowest, my charming Susan, the King has done me the honour to appoint me Ambassador to the court of Paris. I shall take Figaro with me, and give him a very—excellent post; and as it is the duty of a Wife to follow her Husband, we shall then have every opportunity we could wish. Susan. I really don’t understand you, my Lord. I thought your affection for my Lady, whom you took so much pains to steal from her old Guardian, Dr. Bartholo, and for love of whom you generously abolished a certain vile privilege.— Count. For which all the young girls are very sorry; are they not? Susan. No indeed, my Lord—I thought, my Lord, I say— Count. Prithee say no more, my sweet Susan, but promise thou wilt meet me this evening, at twilight, by the Pavilion in the garden; and be certain, that if thou wilt but grant me this small favour, nothing thou canst ask shall— [15] Basil. (without.) He is not in his own room. Count. Heavens! Here’s somebody coming! Where can I hide! Is there no place here? <div class="blockquot"> (The Count runs to get behind the great chair, Susan keeps between him and the Page, who steals away as the Count advances, leaps into the great chair, with his legs doubled under him, and is covered over with the Countess’s gown, by Susan.) </div> <div class="blockquotxx"> Enter BASIL. </div> Basil. Ah, Susan, Good morrow—Is my lord the Count here? Susan. Here! What should he be here for? Basil. Nay, there would be no miracle in it if he were: would there, hey gentle Susan? (Smiles and leers at her.) Susan. It would be a greater miracle to see you honest. Basil. Figaro is in search of him. Susan. Then he is in search of the man who wishes most to injure him—yourself excepted. Basil. It is strange, that a man should injure the Husband by obliging the Wife. (The Count peeps from behind the great chair.) Count. I shall hear, now, how well he pleads my cause. Basil. For my part, Marriage being, of all serious things, the greatest Farce, I imagined— Susan. All manner of wickedness. Basil. That though you are obliged to fast to-day, you might be glad to feed to-morrow, grace being first duly said. Susan. Be gone, and do not shock my ears with your vile principles. [16] Basil. Yes, my pretty Susan, but you must not suppose I am the dupe of these fine appearances. I know it isn’t Figaro who is the great obstacle to my Lord’s happiness, but a certain beardless Page, whom I surprised here, this morning, looking for you as I entered. Susan. I wish you would be gone, you wicked—Devil. Basil. Wicked Devil! Ah, one is a wicked Devil for not shutting one’s eyes. Susan. I wish you would be gone, I tell you. Basil. Was it not for you that he wrote the Song, which he goes chanting up and down the house, at every instant? Susan. O yes! For me, to be sure! Basil. At least it was either for you, or your Lady. Susan. What next? Basil. Why really, when he sits at table, he does cast certain very significant glances towards a beauteous Countess, who shall be nameless—But let him beware! If my Lord catches him at his tricks, he’ll make him dance without music. Susan. Nobody, but such a wicked creature as you, could ever invent such scandalous tales, to the ruin of a poor Youth, who has unhappily fallen into his Lord’s disgrace. Basil. I invent! Why it is in every body’s mouth. (The Count discovers himself, and comes forward.) Count. How! In every body’s mouth! Basil. Zounds. Count. Run, Basil, let him have fifty pistoles and a horse given him, and sent back to his friends instantly. [17] Basil. I’m very sorry, my Lord, I happened to speak— Susan. I’m quite suffocated. <div class="blockquot"> (Susan seems almost ready to faint, the Count supports her, and Basil assists.) </div> Count. Let us seat her in this great chair, Basil. Susan. (Frightened, and exclaims) No!—I won’t sit down!——(After a pause)—This wicked fellow has ruined the poor boy. Basil. I assure you, my Lord, what I said, was only meant to sound Susan. Count. No matter, he shall depart! A little, wanton, impudent Rascal, that I meet at every turning—No longer ago than yesterday I surprised him with the <ins class="corr" id="tn-17" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'Gardiner’s daughter'"> Gardener’s daughter</ins>. Basil. Agnes? Count. In her very bed-chamber. Susan. Where my Lord happened to have business himself. Count. Hem!—I was going there to seek your uncle Antonio, Susan, <ins class="corr" id="tn-17a" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'my drunken Gardiner'"> my drunken Gardener</ins>; I knock’d at the door, and waited some time; at last Agnes came, with confusion in her countenance—I entered, cast a look round, and perceiving a kind of long Cloak, or Curtain, or some such thing, approach’d, and without seeming to take the least notice, drew it gently aside, thus—Hey! Basil. Zounds! <div class="blockquot"> (The Count, during his speech, approaches the arm chair, and acting his description draws aside the gown that hides the Page. They all stand motionless with surprise, for some time.) </div> Count. Why, this is a better trick than t’other! [18] Basil. No!—I won’t sit down! (Mimicking Susan.) Count. (To Susan) And so it was to receive this pretty Youth, that you were so desirous of being alone—And you, you little Villain, what you don’t intend to mend your manners then? But forgetting all respect for your friend Figaro, and for the Countess your Godmother, likewise, you are endeavouring here to seduce her favourite woman! I, however (turning towards Basil) shall not suffer Figaro, a man—whom—I esteem—sincerely—to fall the Victim of such deceit—Did he enter with you, Basil? Basil. No, my Lord. Susan. There is neither Victim nor deceit in the case, my Lord. He was here when you entered. Count. I hope that’s false: his greatest Enemy could not <ins class="corr" id="tn-18" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'wish hm so much'"> wish him so much</ins> mischief. Susan. Knowing that you were angry with him, the poor Boy came running to me, begging me to solicit my Lady in his favor, in hopes she might engage you to forgive him; but was so terrified, as soon as he heard you coming, that he hid himself in the great Chair. Count. A likely story—I sat down in it, as soon as I came in. Page. Yes, my Lord, but I was then trembling behind it. Count. That’s false, again, for I hid myself behind it, when Basil entered. Page. (Timidly) Pardon me, my Lord, but as you approach’d, I retired, and crouched down as you now see me. Count. (Angrily) It’s a little Serpent that glides[19] into every crevice—And he has been listening too to our discourse! Page. Indeed, my Lord, I did all I could not to hear a word. Count. (To Susan) There is no Figaro, no Husband for you, however. Basil. Somebody is coming; get down. <div class="blockquotxx"> Enter the COUNTESS, FIGARO, AGNES, and VASSALS, in their holiday cloaths. Figaro carrying the nuptial cap—The Count runs and plucks the Page from the great chair, just as they enter. </div> Count. What! Would you continue crouching there before the whole world? (The Count and Countess salute. Figaro. We are come, my Lord, to beg a favour, which we hope, for your Lady’s sake, you will grant. (Aside to Susan) Be sure to second what I say. Susan. It will end in nothing. (Aside. Figaro. No matter: let us try, at least. (Aside. Countess. You see, my Lord, I am supposed to have a much greater degree of influence over you than I really possess. Count. Oh no, my Lady; not an atom, I assure you. Figaro. (Presenting the cap to the Count) Our petition is, that the Bride may have the honor of receiving from our worthy Lord’s hand, this Nuptial-Cap; ornamented with half-blown roses, and white ribbands, Symbols of the purity of his intentions. Count. Do they mean to laugh at me? (Aside. [20] <div class="omitted"> Figaro. “And as you have been kindly pleased to abolish that abominable right, which, as Lord of the Manor, you might have claimed, permit us, your Vassals, to celebrate your praise, in a rustic Chorus I have prepared for this occasion. The Virtues of so good a master should not remain unsung. Count. “A Lover, a Poet, and a Musician!—These titles, Figaro, might perhaps merit our indulgence, if”— </div> Countess. Let me beg, my Lord, you will not deny their request: in the name of that Love you once had for me. Count. And have still, Madam. Figaro. Join with me, my friends. Omnes. My Lord. Susan. Why should your Lordship refuse Eulogiums which you merit so well? Count. Oh the Traitress. (Aside) Well, well,—I consent. Figaro. Look at her, my Lord; never could a more beauteous Bride better prove the greatness of the sacrifice you have made. Susan. Oh do not speak of my Beauty, but of his Lordship’s Virtues. Count. My Virtues!—Yes, yes,—I see they understand each other. (Aside) Who can tell me where is Marcelina? Agnes. I met her, my Lord, just now, in the close walk by the park wall, along with Doctor Bartholo. She seemed in a passion, and the Doctor tried to pacify her. I heard her mention my Cousin Figaro’s name. Count. (Aside) No Cousin yet, my dear; and perhaps never may be. [21] Agnes. (Pointing to the Page) Have you forgiven what happened yesterday, my Lord? Count. (Afraid lest the Countess should hear, and chucking Agnes under the chin) Hush! Figaro. (To the Page) What’s the matter, <ins class="corr" id="tn-21" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'young Hanibal the'"> young Hannibal the</ins> brave? What makes you so silent? Susan. He is sorrowful because my Lord is going to send him from the castle. Omnes. Oh pray, my Lord! Countess. Let me beg you will forgive him. Count. He does not deserve to be forgiven. Countess. Consider, he is so young. Count. (Half aside) Not so young, perhaps, as you suppose. Page. My Lord certainly has not ceded away the right to pardon. Susan. And if he had, that would certainly be the first he would secretly endeavour to reclaim. (Looking significantly at the Count and Figaro, by turns.) Count. (Understanding her) No doubt: no doubt. Page. My conduct, my Lord, may have been indiscreet, but I can assure your Lordship, that never the least word shall pass my lips—— Count. (Interrupting him) Enough, enough—Since every body begs for him, I must grant—I shall moreover give him a Company in my Regiment. Omnes. Thanks noble Count. Count. But on condition that he depart immediately for Catalonia to join the Corps. Omnes. Oh my Lord? Figaro. To-morrow my Lord. Count. To day! It shall be so. (To the Page) Take leave of your Godmother, and beg her protection. [22] <div class="blockquot"> (The Page kneels to the Countess with a sorrowful air. As he approaches to kneel, he goes very slowly and Figaro gently pushes him forward.) </div> Fig. Go, go, Child; go. Countess. (With great emotion) Since—it is not possible—to obtain leave—for you to remain here to-day, depart, young man, and follow the noble career which lies before you—Forget not those with whom you have spent some of the first years of your life, and among whom you have friends who wish you every success—Go where Fortune and Glory call—Be obedient, polite, and brave, and be certain we shall take part in your Prosperity. (Raises him. Count. You seem agitated Madam. Countess. How can I help it, recollecting the perils to which his youth must be exposed? He has been bred in the same house with me, is of the same kindred, and is likewise my Godson. Count. (Aside) Basil I see was in the right.—— (Turns to the Page) Go, kiss Susan for the last time. <div class="blockquot"> (The Page and Susan approach, Figaro steps between them and intercepts the Page.) </div> Fig. Oh! There’s no occasion for kissing, my Lord: he’ll return in the winter, and in the mean time he may kiss me.—The scene must now be changed my delicate Youth: you must not run up stairs and down, into the Women’s Chambers, play at Hunt-the-slipper, steal Cream, suck Oranges, and live upon Sweetmeats. Instead of that, Zounds! You must look bluff! Tan your face! Handle your musket! Turn to the right! Wheel to the left! And march to Glory.—At least if you are not stopt short by a Bullet. [23] Susan. Fie, Figaro. Countess. (Terrified.) What a Prophecy! Fig. Were I a Soldier I would make some of them scamper—But, come, come, my friends; let us prepare our feast against the evening. Marcelina I hear intends to disturb our Diversions. Count. That she will I can assure you. (Aside) I must go and send for her. (going.) Countess. You will not leave us, my Lord? Count. I am undrest, you see. Countess. We shall see nobody but our own servants. Count. I must do what you please. Wait for me in the study, Basil. (Exeunt Count, Countess, and Vassals. <div class="blockquotxx"> Manent Figaro, Basil and Page. </div> Fig. (Retains the Page) Come, come; let us study our parts well for the Play in the evening: and do not let us resemble those Actors who never play so ill as on the first night of a Piece; when Criticism is most watchful to detect Errors, and when they ought to play the best—“We shall not have an opportunity of playing better to-morrow.” Basil. My part is more difficult than you imagine. Figaro. And you may be rewarded for it, in a manner you little expect. [Aside. Page. You forget, Figaro, that I am going. Figaro. And you wish to stay? (In the same sorrowful tone.) Page. (Sighs.) Ah yes. Figaro. Follow my advice, and so thou shalt. Page. How, how? Figaro. Make no murmuring, but clap on your boots, and seem to depart; gallop as far as the[24] Farm, return to the Castle on foot, enter by the back way, and hide yourself till I can come to you. Page. And who shall teach Agnes her part, then? Figaro. Oh oh! Basil. Why, what the devil have you been about, young Gentleman, for these eight days past, during which you have hardly ever left her? Take care, Hannibal, take care, or your Scholar will give her Tutor a bad character.—Ah Hannibal! Hannibal! The Pitcher that goes often to the Well— Figaro. Listen to the Pedant and his Proverb.—Well, and what says the wisdom of Nations—The pitcher that goes often to the well— Basil. Stands a chance, sometime, to return full. Figaro. Not so foolish as I thought. End of ACT I. </div> <div class="width30"> <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> [25] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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