Susan. (Pretending bashfulness) It’s always soon enough to own one’s weakness, my Lord.
Count. (with an instant change of countenance) What! Wilt thou take a walk this evening in the garden, by the Pavilion?
Susan. Don’t I take Walks every evening, my Lord?
Count. Nay, nay, but let us understand each other—No Pavilion, no Marriage.
Susan. And no Marriage, no Pavilion, my Lord! (curtsying)
Count. What a witty little Devil! I wonder what she does to fascinate me so!—But prithee tell me why hast thou always, till now, refused with such obstinacy? This very Morning, thou knowest——
Susan. This Morning, my Lord!—What, and the Page behind the Great-chair!
Count. Oh, true! I had forgot!—But when Basil has spoken to thee in my behalf.—
Susan. Is it necessary, my Lord, such a knave as Basil should know every thing that passes?