Agnes. Oh, no; they tell me that is not polite.
Figaro. Then what’s your errand?—He is not here.
Agnes. Who?
Figaro. Hannibal.
Agnes. Oh, I know that very well—I know where he is—I want my Cousin Susan.
Figaro. Aye!—And what do you want with her?
Agnes. Not much; only to give her a Pin.
Figaro. (Starts) A Pin! (Striding about in great anger) A Pin!—And how dare you, you little Hussey, undertake such Messages?—What! Have you learnt your trade already?—(Marcelina makes a sign to Figaro, who recollects himself, and endeavours to disguise his feelings)—Come, come, my pretty Cousin, don’t be frighten’d, I was but in joke—I—I—I know all about it; it’s a Pin that my Lord has sent by you to Susan.
Agnes. Since you know so well, why need you ask me then?
Figaro. (Coaxing) Only to hear what my Lord said when he sent thee on this errand.