(Gives him a slap in the face.)
Figaro. (Rubbing his Cheek) “This is Love—Pshaw! Prithee come hither, look at that Lady—How dost thou like her?
Susan. “Not at all.
Figaro. “Well said Jealousy, she does not mince the Matter.”
Marcelina. Dear Susan, this, this is my Son!
Figaro. “Yes, they wanted me to marry my Mother.”
Antonio. “Your Mother!——It is not long since——
Figaro. “I have known it—True.”
Marcelina. Yes, my dearest Susan, embrace thy Mother—Thy Mother, who will love thee dearly.
Susan. And do you consent I shall have my Figaro?