Count. That’s false, again, for I hid myself behind it, when Basil entered.
Page. (Timidly) Pardon me, my Lord, but as you approach’d, I retired, and crouched down as you now see me.
Count. (Angrily) It’s a little Serpent that glides into every crevice—And he has been listening too to our discourse!
Page. Indeed, my Lord, I did all I could not to hear a word.
Count. (To Susan) There is no Figaro, no Husband for you, however.
Basil. Somebody is coming; get down.
Enter the COUNTESS, FIGARO, AGNES, and VASSALS, in their holiday cloaths. Figaro carrying the nuptial cap—The Count runs and plucks the Page from the great chair, just as they enter.
Count. What! Would you continue crouching there before the whole world?
(The Count and Countess salute.
Figaro. We are come, my Lord, to beg a favour, which we hope, for your Lady’s sake, you will grant. (Aside to Susan) Be sure to second what I say.