Page. If thou dost not hold thy tongue, Susan, I’ll kiss thee into the bargain.
Susan. Kiss me!—Do not come near me, if thou lov’st thy ears—I say, beg my Lord to forgive you, indeed! No I assure you—“I shall say to him, you do very right, my Lord, to send this little Rascal packing, who is not only in love with my Lady, but wants to kiss other folks into the bargain.”
Page. “How can I help it, Susan”? Here, take this paper.
Susan. For what?
Page. It contains a Song I have written on thy beauteous Lady, my charming God-mother.
Count. (without) Jaquez.
Page. Ah! I’m undone!—’Tis my Lord!
(The Page crouches down, and hides himself behind Susan’s petticoats and the great chair.)
Enter Count ALMAVIVA.