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.
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.
Marcelina. “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.)