Susan. There, there—There’s all the kisses I shall give.
(Kisses her hand at him and runs, he pursues to the side.)
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——
Enter Doctor BARTHOLO and MARCELINA.
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?