Letter I shall be for ever lost!--What imprudence!

_Count._ (_Without_) Why don’t you open the door?

_Countess._ Because----I’m alone.

_Count._ Alone! Who are you talking to then!

_Countess._ To you, to be sure--How could I be so thoughtless--This villainous Figaro.

_Page._ After the scene of the great chair this morning he will certainly murder me if he finds me here.

_Countess._ Run into my dressing-room and lock the door on the inside. (_the Countess opens the door to the Count._)

_Enter the_ COUNT.

_Count._ You did not use to lock yourself in, when you were alone, Madam! Who were you speaking to?

_Countess._ (_Endeavouring to conceal her agitation_) To--To Susan, who is rumaging in her own room.

_Count._ But you seem agitated, Madam.

_Countess._ That is not impossible (_affecting to take a serious air_) We were speaking of you.

_Count._ Of me!

_Countess._ Your jealousy, your indifference, my Lord.

{{_Count._ “I cannot say for indifference, my Lady, and as for jealousy, you know best whether I have any cause.

_Countess._ “My Lord!

_Count._ “In short, my Lady, there are people in the world, who are malicious enough to wish to disturb either your repose or mine. I have received private advice that a certain Thing called a Lover--

_Countess._ “Lover!

_Count._ “Ay, or Gallant, or any other title you like best, meant to take advantage of my absence, and introduce himself into the Castle.

_Countess._ “If there even were any one audacious enough to make such an attempt, he would find himself disappointed of meeting me; for I shall not stir out of my room to-day.

_Count._ “What, not to the Wedding?

_Countess._ “I am indisposed.

_Count._ “Its lucky then that the Doctor is here.”}}

(_The Page oversets a table in the Countess’s dressing-room._)

_Countess._ (_Terrified._) What will become of me? (_Aside._)

_Count._ What noise is that?

_Countess._ I heard no noise.

_Count._ No? You must be most confoundedly absent, then.

_Countess._ (_Affecting to return his irony_) Oh, to be sure.

_Count._ But there is somebody in your dressing-room, Madam.

_Countess._ Who should there be?

_Count._ That’s what I want to know.

_Countess._ It is Susan, I suppose, putting the chairs and tables to rights.

_Count._ What! Your favourite woman turned house-maid! You told me just now she was in her own room.

_Countess._ In _her_ room, or _my_ room, it is all one.

_Count._ Really, my Lady, this Susan of yours is a very nimble, convenient kind of person.

_Countess._ Really, my Lord, this Susan of mine disturbs your quiet very much.

_Count._ Very true, my Lady, so much that I am determined to see her.

_Countess._ These suspicions are very much to your credit, my Lord.

_Count._ If they are not to your discredit, my Lady, it is very easy to remove them--But I see you mean to trifle with me (_he goes to the Countess’s dressing-room door, and calls_) Susan! Susan! If Susan you are, come forth!

_Countess._ Very well, my Lord! Very well! Would you have the girl come out half undressed? She is trying on one of my left off dresses--To disturb female privacy, in this manner, my Lord, is certainly very unprecedented.

(_During the warmth of this dispute, Susan comes from her own room, perceives what is passing, and after listening long enough to know how to act, slips, unseen by both, behind the curtains of the bed which stands in the Alcove._)

_Count._ Well, if she can’t come out, she can answer at least. (_Calls_) Susan!--Answer me, Susan.

_Countess._ I say, do not answer, Susan! I forbid you to speak a word!--We shall see who she’ll obey.

_Count._ But if you are so innocent, Madam, what is the reason of that emotion and perplexity so very evident in your countenance?

_Countess._ (_Affecting to laugh_) Emotion and perplexity! Ha! ha! ha! Ridiculous!

_Count._ Well, Madam, be it as ridiculous as it may, I am determined to be satisfied, and I think present appearances give me a sufficient plea. (_Goes to the side of the Scenes and calls_) Hollo! Who waits there?

_Countess._ Do, do, my Lord! Expose your jealousy to your very servants! Make yourself and me the jest of the whole world.

_Count._ Why do you oblige me to it?--However, Madam, since you will not suffer that door to be opened, will you please to accompany me while I procure an instrument to force it?

_Countess._ To be sure, my Lord! To be sure! If you please.

_Count._ And, in order that you may be fully justified, I will make this other door fast (_Goes to Susan’s chamber door, locks it, and takes the key._) As to the Susan of the dressing-room, she must have the complaisance to wait my return.

_Countess._ This behaviour is greatly to your honor, my Lord! (_This speech is heard as they are going through the door, which the Count locks after him._)

(Exeunt)

_Enter_ SUSAN, _peeping as they go off, then runs to the dressing-room door and calls_.

_Susan._ Hannibal!--Hannibal!--Open the door! Quick! Quick!--It’s I, Susan.

_Enter_ PAGE, _frightened_.

_Page._ Oh Susan!

_Susan._ Oh my poor Mistress!

_Page._ What will become of her?

_Susan._ What will become of my marriage?

_Page._ What will become of me?

_Susan._ Don’t stand babbling here, but fly.

_Page._ The doors are all fast, how can I fly?

_Susan._ Don’t ask me! Fly!

_Page._ Here’s a window open (_runs to the window_) Underneath is a bed of flowers; I’ll leap out.

_Susan._ (_Screams_) You’ll break your neck!

_Page._ Better that than ruin my dear Lady--Give me one kiss Susan.

_Susan._ Was there ever seen such a young--(_Page kisses her, runs and leaps out of the window, and Susan shrieks at seeing him_) Ah! (_Susan sinks into a chair, overcome with fear--At last she takes courage, rises, goes with dread towards the window, and after looking out, turns round with her hand upon her heart, a sigh of relief and a smile expressive of sudden ease and pleasure._) He is safe! Yonder he runs!--As light and as swift as the winds!--If that Boy does not make some woman’s heart ache I’m mistaken. (_Susan goes towards the dressing-room door, enters, and peeps out as she is going to shut it._) And now, my good jealous Count, perhaps, I may teach you to break open doors another time. (_Locks herself in._)

_Enter_ COUNT, _with a wrenching iron in one hand, and leading in the_ COUNTESS _with the other. Goes and examines the doors._

_Count._ Every thing is as I left it. We now shall come to an eclaircissement.

_Countess._ But, my Lord!--He’ll murder him! (_Aside._)

_Count._ Now we shall know--Do you still persist in forcing me to break open this door?--I am determined to see who’s within.

_Countess._ Let me beg, my Lord, you’ll have a moment’s patience!--Hear me only and you shall satisfy your utmost curiosity!--Let me intreat you to be assured, that, however appearances may condemn me, no injury was intended to your honour.

_Count._ Then there is a man?

_Countess._ No--none of whom you can reasonably entertain the least suspicion.

_Count._ How?

_Countess._ A jest!--A meer innocent, harmless frolic, for our evening’s diversion! Nothing more, upon my Honor!--On my soul!

_Count._ But who--who is it?

_Countess._ A Child!

_Count._ Let us see your child!--What child?

_Countess._ Hannibal.

_Count._ The Page! (_Turns away_) This damnable Page again?----Thus then is the Letter!----thus are my Suspicions realized at last!--I am now no longer astonished, Madam, at your emotion for your pretty Godson this morning!--The whole is unravelled!--Come forth, Viper! (_In great wrath._)

_Countess._ (_Terrified and trembling_) Do not let the Disorder in which you will see him----

_Count._ The Disorder!--The Disorder!

_Countess._ We were going to dress him in women’s cloaths for our evening’s diversion--

_Count._ I’ll stab him!--I’ll!--{{“And this is your indisposition!--This is why you would keep your Chamber all day! False, unworthy Woman! You shall keep it longer than you expected.”}}--I’ll make him a terrible example of an injured Husband’s wrath!

_Countess._ (_Falling on her knees between the Count and the door_) Hold, my Lord, hold! Or let your anger light on me!--I, alone, am guilty! If there be any guilt--Have pity on his youth! His infancy!

_Count._ What! Intercede for him!--On your knees!--And to me! There wanted but this!--I’ll rack him!--Rise!--I’ll (_Furiously._)

_Countess._ Promise me to spare his life!

_Count._ Rise!

(_The Countess rises terrified, and sinks into an arm chair ready to faint._

_Countess._ He’ll murder him!

_Count._ Come forth, I say, once more; or I’ll drag--(_While the Count is speaking, Susan unlocks the door and bolts out upon him._)

_Susan._ I’ll stab him!--I’ll rack him!

(_The Countess, at hearing Susan’s voice, recovers sufficiently to look round--Is astonished, endeavours to collect herself, and turns back into her former position to conceal her surprise._)

_Countess._ (_After standing fixed some time, and first looking at Susan and then at the Countess_) Here’s a seminary!--And can you act astonishment too, Madam? (_Observing the Countess, who cannot totally hide her surprise._).

_Countess._ _Attempting to speak_) I--My Lord--

_Count._ (_Recollecting himself._) But, perhaps, she was not alone. (_Enters the dressing-room, Countess again alarmed, Susan runs to the Countess._

_Susan._ Fear nothing--He is not there--He has jumped out of the window.

_Countess._ And broke his neck! (_Her terror returns._)

_Susan._ Hush! (_Susan claps herself bolt upright against her Lady, to hide her new disorder from the Count._) Hem! Hem!

_Re-enter_ COUNT, (_greatly abashed_)

_Count._ Nobody there!--I have been to blame--(_approaching the Countess_.) Madam!--

(_With great submission as if going to beg her pardon, but the confusion still visible in her countenance calls up the recollection of all that had just passed, and he bursts out into an exclamation._)

Upon my soul, Madam, you are a most excellent Actress!

_Susan._ And am not I too, my Lord?

_Count._ You see my Confusion, Madam--be generous.

_Susan._ As you have been.

_Count._ Hush!--(_Makes signs to Susan to take his part._) My dear Rosina----

_Countess._ No, no, my Lord! I am no longer that Rosina whom you formerly loved with such affection!--I am now nothing but the poor Countess of Almaviva! A neglected Wife, and not a beloved Mistress.

_Count._ Nay, do not make my humiliation too severe--(_His suspicions again in part revive._) But wherefore, my Lady, have you been thus mysterious on this occasion?

_Countess._ That I might not betray that headlong thoughtless Figaro.

_Count._ What! He wrote the anonymous billet then?

_Countess._ It was without my knowledge, my Lord.

_Count._ But you were afterwards informed of it?

_Countess._ Certainly.

_Count._ Who did he give it to?

_Countess._ Basil--

_Count._ Who sent it me by a Peasant--Indeed, Mr. Basil.--Yes, vile Thrummer, thou shalt pay for all!

_Countess._ But where is the justice of refusing that pardon to others we stand so much in need of ourselves? If ever I could be brought to forgive, it should only be on condition of passing a general amnesty.

_Count._ I acknowledge my guilt.

(_The Countess stands in the middle of the stage, the Count a little in the back ground, as if expressive of his timidity, but his countenance shews he is confident of obtaining his pardon--Susan stands forwarder than either, and her looks are significantly applicable to the circumstances of both parties._)

_Susan._ To suspect a man in my Lady’s dressing-room!--

_Count._ And to be thus severely punished for my suspicion!--

_Susan._ Not to believe my Lady when she _assured_ you it was her Woman!

_Count._ Ah!----(_with affected confusion_) Deign, Madam, once more, to repeat my pardon.

_Countess._ Have I already pronounced it, Susan?

_Susan._ Not that I heard, Madam.

_Count._ Let the gentle sentence then escape.

_Countess._ And do you merit it, ungrateful man? (_with tenderness._)

_Count._ (_Looking at Susan, who returns his look_) Certainly, my Lady.

_Countess._ A fine example I set you, Susan! (_The Count takes her hand and kisses it._) Who, hereafter, will dread a Woman’s anger?

(_Countess turns her head towards Susan, and laughs as she says this._)

_Susan._ (_In the same tone_) Yes, yes, Madam--I observe----Men may well accuse us of frailty.

_Count._ And yet I cannot, for the soul of me, forget the agony, Rosina, in which you seemed to be just now! Your cries, your tears, your----How was it possible, this being a Fiction, you should so suddenly give it the tragic tone of a Reality?--Ha! ha! ha!--So astonishingly natural!

_Countess._ You see your Page, and I dare say your Lordship was not sorry for the mistake--I’m sure the sight of Susan does not give you offence.

_Count._ Hem!--Offence! Oh! No, no, no--But what’s the reason, you malicious little hussey, you did not come when I called?

_Susan._ What! Undress’d, my Lord?

_Count._ But why didn’t you answer then?

_Susan._ My Lady forbad me: and good reason she had so to do.

_Count._ Such distraction in your countenance! (_To the Countess_) Nay, it’s not calm even yet!

_Countess._ Oh you--you fancy so my Lord.

_Count._ Men, I perceive, are poor Politicians--Women make Children of us----Were his Majesty wise, he would name you, and not me, for his Ambassador.

_Enter_ FIGARO, _chearfully; perceives the Count, who puts on a very serious air_.

_Fig._ They told me my Lady was indisposed, I ran to enquire, and am very happy to find there was nothing in it.

_Count._ You are very attentive.

_Fig._ It is my duty so to be, my Lord. (_Turns to Susan._) Come, come, my Charmer! Prepare for the Ceremony! Go to your Bridemaids.

_Count._ But who is to guard the Countess in the mean time?

_Figaro._ (_Surprised_) Guard her, my Lord! My Lady seems very well: she wants no guarding.

_Count._ From the Gallant, who was to profit by my absence? (_Susan and the Countess make signs to Figaro._)

_Countess._ Nay, nay, Figaro, the Count knows all.

_Susan._ Yes, yes, we have told my Lord every thing.--The jest is ended--Its all over.

_Figaro._ The jest is ended!--And its all over!

_Count._ Yes--Ended, ended, ended!----And all over--What have you to say to that?

_Fig._ Say, my Lord!

(_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.

_Figaro._ Well, well, since my Lord will have it so, and my Lady will have it so, and you all will have it so, why then so let it be.

_Count._ Still at his Wiles.----

_Countess._ Why, my Lord, would you oblige him to speak truth, so much against his inclination? (_Count and Countess walk familiarly up the stage._)

_Susan._ Hast thou seen the Page?

_Fig._ Yes, yes: you have shook his young joints for him, among you.

_Enter_ ANTONIO, _the Gardener, with a broken Flower-pot under his arm half drunk_.

_Antonio._ My Lord--My good Lord--If so be as your Lordship will not have the goodness to have these Windows nailed up, I shall never have a Nosegay fit to give to my Lady--They break all my pots, and spoil my flowers; for they not only throw other Rubbish out of the windows, as they used to do, but they have just now tossed out a Man.

_Count._ A Man!--(_The Count’s suspicions all revive._)

_Antonio._ In white stockings!

(_Countess and Susan discover their fears, and make signs to Figaro to assist them if possible._)

_Count._ Where is the Man? (_Eagerly._)

_Antonio._ That’s what I want to know, my Lord!--I wish I could find him,--I am your Lordship’s Gardener; and, tho’ I say it, a better Gardener is not to be found in all Spain;--but if Chambermaids are permitted to toss men out of the window to save their own Reputation, what is to become of mine?--{{“It will wither with my flowers to be sure.”}}

_Figaro._ Oh fie! What sotting so soon in a morning?

_Antonio._ Why, can one begin one’s day’s work too early?

_Count._ Your day’s work, Sir?

_Antonio._ Your Lordship knows my Niece, there she stands, is to be married to day; and I am sure she would never forgive me if----

_Count._ If you were not to get drunk an hour sooner than usual--But on with your story, Sir--What of the Man?--What followed?

_Antonio._ I followed him myself, my Lord, as fast as I could; but, somehow, I unluckily happened to make a false step, and came with such a confounded whirl against the Garden-gate--that I--I quite for--forgot my Errand.

_Count._ And should you know this man again?

_Antonio._ To be sure I should, my Lord!--If I had seen him, that is.

_Count._ Either speak more clearly, Rascal, or I’ll send you packing to----

_Antonio._ Send me packing, my Lord?--Oh, no! If your Lordship has not enough--enough (_Points to his forehead_) to know when you have a good Gardener, I warrant I know when I have a good Place.

_Figaro._ There is no occasion, my Lord, for all this mystery! It was I who jump’d out of the window into the garden.

_Count._ You?

_Figaro._ My own self, my Lord.

_Count._ Jump out of a one pair of stairs window and run the risk of breaking your Neck?

_Figaro._ The ground was soft, my Lord.

_Antonio._ And his Neck is in no danger of being broken.

_Figaro._ To be sure I hurt my right leg, a little, in the fall; just here at the ancle--I feel it still. (_Rubbing his ancle._)

_Count._ But what reason had you to jump out of the window?

_Figaro._ You had received my letter, my Lord, since I must own it, and was come, somewhat sooner than I expected, in a dreadful passion, in search of a man.--

_Antonio._ If it was you, you have grown plaguy fast within this half hour, to my thinking. The man that I saw did not seem so tall by the head and shoulders.

_Figaro._ Pshaw! Does not one double one’s self up when one takes a leap?

_Antonio._ It seem’d a great deal more like the Page.

_Count._ The Page!

_Figaro._ Oh yes, to be sure, the Page has gallop’d back from Seville, Horse and all, to leap out of the window!

_Antonio._ No, no, my Lord! I saw no such thing! I’ll take my oath I saw no horse leap out of the window.

_Figaro._ Come, come, let us prepare for our sports.

_Antonio._ Well, since it was you, as I am an honest man, I ought to return you this Paper which drop’d out of your pocket as you fell.

_Count._ (_Snatches the paper. The Countess, Figaro, and Susan are all surprised and embarrassed. Figaro shakes himself, and endeavours to recover his fortitude._) Ay, since it was you, you doubtless can tell what this Paper contains (_claps the paper behind his back as he faces Figaro_) and how it happened to come in your Pocket?

_Figaro._ Oh, my Lord, I have such quantities of Papers (_searches his pockets, pulls out a great many_) No, it is not this!--Hem!--This is a double Love-letter from Marcelina, in seven pages--Hem!--Hem!--It would do a man’s heart good to read it--Hem!--And this is a petition from the poor Poacher in prison. I never presented it to your Lordship, because I know you have affairs much more serious on your hands, than the Complaints of such half-starved Rascals--Ah!--Hem!--this--this--no, this is an Inventory of your Lordship’s Sword-knots, Ruffs, Ruffles, and Roses--must take care of this--(_Endeavours to gain time, and keeps glancing and hemming to Susan and the Countess, to look at the paper and give him a hint._)

_Count._ It is neither this, nor this, nor that, nor t’other, that you have in your hand, but what I hold here in mine, that I want to know the contents of. (_Holds out the paper in action as he speaks, the Countess who stands next him catches a sight of it._)

_Countess._ ’Tis the Commission. (_Aside to Susan._)

_Susan._ The Page’s Commission. (_Aside to Figaro._)

_Count._ Well, Sir!--So you know nothing of the matter?

_Antonio._ (_Reels round to Figaro_) My Lord says you--know nothing of the matter.

_Figaro._ Keep off, and don’t come to whisper me. (_pretending to recollect himself._) Oh Lord! Lord! What a stupid fool I am!--I declare it is the Commission of that poor youth, Hannibal--which I, like a Blockhead, forgot to return him--He will be quite unhappy about it, poor Boy.

_Count._ And how came you by it?

_Figaro._ By it, my Lord?

_Count._ Why did he give it you?

_Figaro._ To--to--to----

_Count._ To what?

_Figaro._ To get--

_Count._ To get what? It wants nothing!

_Countess._ (_to Susan_) It wants the Seal.

_Susan._ (_to Figaro_) It wants the Seal.

_Figaro._ Oh, my Lord, what it wants to be sure is a mere trifle.

_Count._ What trifle?

_Figaro._ You know, my Lord, it’s customary to--

_Count._ To what?

_Figaro._ To affix your Lordship’s Seal.

_Count._ (_Looks at the Commission, finds the Seal is wanting, and exclaims with vexation and disappointment_) The Devil and his Imps!--It is written, Count, thou shalt be a Dupe!--Where is this Marcelina?

[_Going._

_Figaro._ Are you going, my Lord, without giving Orders for our Wedding?

_Enter_ MARCELINA, BASIL, BOUNCE, _and Vassals_.

(_The Count returns._)

_Marcelina._ Forbear, my Lord, to give such Orders; in Justice forbear. I have a written promise under his hand, and I appeal to you, to redress my injuries! You are my lawful Judge.

_Figaro._ Pshaw! A trifle, my Lord: a note of hand for money borrowed; nothing more.

_Count._ Let the Advocates and Officers of Justice be assembled in the great Hall; we will there determine on the justice of your claim. It becomes us not to suffer any Vassal of ours, however we may privately esteem him, to be guilty of public injury.

_Basil._ Your Lordship is acquainted with my claims on Marcelina: I hope your Lordship will grant me your support.

_Count._ Oh, oh! Are you there, Prince of Knaves?

_Antonio._ Yes, that’s his title, sure enough.

_Count._ Approach, honest Basil; faithful Agent of our Will and Pleasure. (_Basil bows_) Go order the Lawyers to assemble.

_Basil._ My Lord!--

_Count._ And tell the Peasant, by whom you sent me the Letter this morning, I want to speak with him.

_Basil._ Your Lordship is pleased to joke with your humble Servant. I know no such Peasant.

_Count._ You will be pleased to find him, notwithstanding.

_Basil._ My Office, in this House, as your Lordship knows, is not to go of Errands! Think, my Lord, how that would degrade a man of my talents; who have the honour to teach my Lady the Harpsichord, the Mandoline to her Woman, and to entertain your Lordship, and your Lordship’s good Company, with my Voice and my Guitar, whenever your Lordship pleases to honor me with your Commands.

_Bounce._ I will go, if your Lordship pleases to let me: I should be very glad to oblige your Lordship.

_Count._ What’s thy Name?

_Bounce._ Pedro Bounce, my Lord, Fire-work maker to your Lordship.

_Count._ Thy zeal pleases me, thou shalt go.

_Bounce._ Thank your Lordship, thank your noble Lordship. (_Leaps._)

_Count._ (_To Basil_) And do you be pleased, Sir, to entertain the Gentleman, on his Journey, with your Voice and your Guitar; he is part of my good Company.

_Bounce._ (_Leaps_) I am part of my Lord’s good Company! Who would have thought it!

_Basil._ My Lord----

_Count._ Depart! Obey! Or, depart from my Service.

(_Exit._)

_Basil._ ’Tis in vain to resist. Shall I wage war with a Lion, who am only----

_Figaro._ A Calf--{{“But come, you seem vex’d about it--I will open the Ball--Strike up, tis my Susan’s Wedding-day.”}}

_Basil._ Come along, Mr. Bounce. (_Basil begins to play, Figaro dances and sings off before him, and Bounce follows, dancing after._)

(_Exeunt._)

_Manent_ COUNTESS _and_ SUSAN.

_Countess._ You see, Susan, to what Danger I have been exposed by Figaro and his fine concerted Billet.

{{_Susan._ “Dear Madam, if you had but seen yourself when I bounced out upon my Lord! So pale, such Terror in your Countenance! And then your suddenly assumed tranquillity!

_Countess._ “Oh no, every Faculty was lost in my Fears.

_Susan._ “I assure your Ladyship to the contrary; in a few Lessons you would learn to dissemble and fib with as good a Grace as any Lady in the Land.”}}

_Countess._ And so that poor Child jumped out of the Window?

_Susan._ Without the least hesitation--as light and as chearful as a Linnet.

_Countess._ I wish however I could convict my false Count of his Infidelity.

_Susan._ The Page will never dare, after this, to make a second attempt.

_Countess._ Ha!--A lucky project! I will meet him myself; and then nobody will be exposed.

_Susan._ But suppose, Madam--

_Countess._ My Success has emboldened me, and I am determined to try--(_Sees the Riband left on the chair_) What’s here? My Riband! I will keep it as a Memento of the danger to which that poor Youth--{{“Ah my Lord--Yet let me have a care, let me look to myself, to my own Conduct, lest I should give occasion to say--Ah my Lady!”}} (_The Countess puts the Riband in her Pocket._) You must not mention a Word of this, Susan, to any body.

_Susan._ Except Figaro.

_Countess._ No exceptions, he must not be told; he will spoil it, by mixing some plot of his own with it--I have promised thee a Portion thou knowest--these men are liberal in their Pleasures--Perhaps I may double it for thee; it will be Susan’s Right.

_Susan._ Your Project is a charming one, Madam, and I shall yet have my Figaro.

[_Exit Susan, kissing the Countess’s Hand._

End of ACT II.