Guzman. His Accomplice!
Count. Come forth, Madam! (Enters the Pavilion.)
Basil. Which of these two has made a—Gentleman of the other.
Figaro. Perhaps neither.
Count. (In the Pavilion.) Come forth, I say, shew yourself. (Enter, dragging out the PAGE, still speaking, and not looking at him till he gets on a line with the rest of the Company.) Happily, Madam, there is no Pledge of a Union, now so justly detested.——
Omnes. The Page!
Guzman. (After all the rest.) The Pa-a-age!
Count. Again! And again! And everlastingly this damn’d, diabolical Page. (Page flies to the other side of the stage.) You shall find, however, he was not alone.
Page. Ah, no! My lot would have been hard indeed then.