Count. Why, this is a better trick than t’other!
Basil. No!—I won’t sit down! (Mimicking Susan.)
Count. (To Susan) And so it was to receive this pretty Youth, that you were so desirous of being alone—And you, you little Villain, what you don’t intend to mend your manners then? But forgetting all respect for your friend Figaro, and for the Countess your Godmother, likewise, you are endeavouring here to seduce her favourite woman! I, however (turning towards Basil) shall not suffer Figaro, a man—whom—I esteem—sincerely—to fall the Victim of such deceit—Did he enter with you, Basil?
Basil. No, my Lord.
Susan. There is neither Victim nor deceit in the case, my Lord. He was here when you entered.
Count. I hope that’s false: his greatest Enemy could not wish him so much mischief.
Susan. Knowing that you were angry with him, the poor Boy came running to me, begging me to solicit my Lady in his favor, in hopes she might engage you to forgive him; but was so terrified, as soon as he heard you coming, that he hid himself in the great Chair.
Count. A likely story—I sat down in it, as soon as I came in.
Page. Yes, my Lord, but I was then trembling behind it.