Countess. I have always afforded him my protection.
Susan. Had you, Madam, but seen him snatch the ribband from me!
Countess. (Rising) Pshaw! Enough of this nonsense—And so my Lord the Count endeavours to seduce you, Susan?
Susan. Oh, no indeed, Madam, he does not give himself the trouble to seduce; he endeavours to purchase me: and because I refuse him will certainly prevent my marriage with Figaro, and support the pretensions of Marcelina.
Countess. Fear nothing—We shall have need, however, of a little artifice perhaps; in the execution of which Figaro’s assistance may not be amiss.
Susan. He will be here, Madam, as soon as my Lord is gone a coursing.
Countess. Your Lord is an ungrateful man, Susan!—An ungrateful man! (The Countess walks up and down the room with some emotion) Open the window; I am stifled for want of air—Vows, protestations and tenderness are all forgotten—My Love offends, my Caresses disgust—He thinks his own Infidelities must all be overlook’d, yet my Conduct must be irreproachable.
Susan (At the window looking into the street). Yonder goes my Lord with all his Grooms and Greyhounds.
Countess. To divert himself with hunting a poor timid harmless Hare to death—This, however, will give us time—Somebody knocks, Susan.
Susan. “For Figaro’s the lad, is the lad for me.”