(The Page kneels to the Countess with a sorrowful air. As he approaches to kneel, he goes very slowly and Figaro gently pushes him forward.)
Fig. Go, go, Child; go.
Countess. (With great emotion) Since—it is not possible—to obtain leave—for you to remain here to-day, depart, young man, and follow the noble career which lies before you—Forget not those with whom you have spent some of the first years of your life, and among whom you have friends who wish you every success—Go where Fortune and Glory call—Be obedient, polite, and brave, and be certain we shall take part in your Prosperity. (Raises him.
Count. You seem agitated Madam.
Countess. How can I help it, recollecting the perils to which his youth must be exposed? He has been bred in the same house with me, is of the same kindred, and is likewise my Godson.
Count. (Aside) Basil I see was in the right.—— (Turns to the Page) Go, kiss Susan for the last time.
(The Page and Susan approach, Figaro steps between them and intercepts the Page.)
Fig. Oh! There’s no occasion for kissing, my Lord: he’ll return in the winter, and in the mean time he may kiss me.—The scene must now be changed my delicate Youth: you must not run up stairs and down, into the Women’s Chambers, play at Hunt-the-slipper, steal Cream, suck Oranges, and live upon Sweetmeats. Instead of that, Zounds! You must look bluff! Tan your face! Handle your musket! Turn to the right! Wheel to the left! And march to Glory.—At least if you are not stopt short by a Bullet.