The Follies of a Day; or, The Marriage of Figaro / A comedy, as it is now performing at the Theatre-Royal, Covent-Garden. From the French of M. de Beaumarchais

by Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais

(The confusion of Figaro arises from not supposing it possible the Countess and Susan should have betrayed him, and when he understands something by their signs, from not knowing how much they have told.)

Count. Ay, say.

Fig. I—I—I wish I could say as much of my Marriage.

Count. And who wrote the pretty Letter?

Figaro. Not I, my Lord.

Count. If I did not know thou liest, I could read it in thy face.

Figaro. Indeed, my Lord!—Then it is my face that lies; and not I.

Countess. Pshaw, Figaro! Why should you endeavour to conceal any thing, when I tell you we have confess’d all?

Susan. (Making signs to Figaro) We have told my Lord of the Letter, which made him suspect that Hannibal, the Page, who is far enough off by this, was hid in my Lady’s dressing-room, where I myself was lock’d in.