This is a modern-English version of 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, originally written by Beaumarchais, Pierre Augustin Caron de.
It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling,
and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
Original stage directions were usually in italic and placed in parentheses ( ). A few inconsistencies—no closing parenthesis, use of [ instead of (, no italic—have been left unchanged.
Original stage directions were usually in italics and placed in parentheses ( ). A few inconsistencies—no closing parenthesis, use of [ instead of (, no italics—have been left unchanged.
Stage directions were usually right-aligned with varying indentation on the left, sometimes beginning on the same line as the dialog, sometimes on a new line. This etext generally puts them on a new right-aligned line(s) with an indentation on the left of several spaces. They have been kept in-line with the dialog when it made sense to do so.
Stage directions were usually aligned to the right with varying indentation on the left, sometimes starting on the same line as the dialogue, other times on a new line. This etext generally places them on a new right-aligned line(s) with several spaces of indentation on the left. They have been kept inline with the dialogue when it made sense to do so.
As noted under the list of Dramatis Personæ ‘The Passages put between inverted Commas are omitted in the Representation’—meaning that this marked dialog was omitted by the actors in the Theatre-Royal production of the play. These passages are marked with a small font and bold weighting in this etext. The inverted commas are shown as opening and closing double quotes: “ and ”. Redundant inverted commas at the beginning of lines have been removed.
As mentioned in the list of Dramatis Personæ ‘The passages placed in quotes are omitted in the representation’—indicating that this marked dialogue was left out by the actors in the Theatre-Royal production of the play. These passages are marked with a small font with bold text in this ebook. The quotes are represented as opening and closing double quotes: “ and ”. Unnecessary quotes at the beginning of lines have been removed.
The original text used the longform ſ, replaced here by the modern s.
The original text used the longform f, replaced here by the modern s.
The Table of Contents has been created and inserted by the transcriber.
The Table of Contents has been created and added by the transcriber.
The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
The cover image was made by the transcriber and is public domain.
Some minor corrections to the text are noted at the end of the book.
Some minor corrections to the text are noted at the end of the book.
in the original 1785 book.
THE
DAY'S FOLLIES;
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 THOMAS HOLCROFT.
A comedy,
NOW PLAYING AT THE
THEATRE ROYAL
Covent Garden.
ADAPTED FROM THE
FRENCH BY M. DE BEAUMARCHAIS.
By THOMAS HOLCROFT.
AUTHOR OF DUPLICITY, A COMEDY, THE NOBLE
PEASANT, AN OPERA, &C.
AUTHOR OF DUPLICITY, A COMEDY, THE NOBLE
PEASANT, AN OPERA, &C.
LONDON:
LONDON:
Printed for G. G. J. and J. ROBINSON,
Pater-noster Row.
Printed for G. G. J. and J. ROBINSON,
Paternoster Row.
M DCC LXXXV.
MDCCLXXXV.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
| PROLOGUE, | Page vii |
| ACT I. | 1 |
| ACT II. | 25 |
| ACT III. | 53 |
| ACT IV. | 74 |
| ACT V. | 90 |
Though to thank the Public is to thank nobody, since no particular Person takes this Sort of Compliments to himself, yet were I not to feel that Gratitude, which individually I know not where to pay, I were unworthy of past, of present, or of future Favours.
Though thanking the public means thanking no one in particular, since no individual personalizes this kind of praise, if I didn't feel that gratitude, which I personally don't know where to direct, I would be unworthy of any past, present, or future favors.
An Author’s Thanks to the World at large may be seen under two very different Aspects: For, to thank the Public is to tell the Public he is successful; which, supposing it true, it would be strange if they did not already know; it appears therefore only to be taking an Opportunity of indulging his Vanity: And yet to thank them seems his Duty, since his Silence might not only be construed a want of Respect, but an arrogant Self-confidence that, when they applauded or approved his Work, they only did him justice. The Reader must determine which of these Faces he will please to view.
An Author’s Thanks to the World at large can be viewed in two very different ways: Thanking the Public suggests that the Author is successful, which, if true, would be odd if they didn’t already know; it seems more like an opportunity to indulge his ego. And yet, thanking them feels like his Duty, as his silence might be seen as disrespectful or as arrogant self-assurance—that when they praised or approved his Work, they were merely doing what he deserved. The Reader must decide how they want to interpret this.
I am so well convinced that the best Writer stands in need of Indulgence, and that he[iv] only does well by Comparison, and might do much better, that I shall find little Mortification in subscribing to the Opinions of those who shall tell me I am in this latter Predicament.
I am completely convinced that even the best writer needs some understanding, and that they only seem good in comparison to others, and could actually be much better. So, I won’t feel much embarrassment in agreeing with those who say I'm in this situation.
Readers are divided into two Classes; the one will allow an Author much more than he merits, and the other much less; but the principal Excellencies of The Follies of a Day are so known to be another’s Right, that for me to claim them would be ridiculous. Some, however, have affirmed that it is a mere Translation, who have never seen, read, or heard the Original; if they had, indeed, they would have been still more culpable. Few will trouble themselves to examine the precise Extent of my Claims; nor, if they did, would they have an Opportunity ’till M. de Beaumarchais shall think proper to publish La Folle Journée. The Public in general are so willing to overlook Defects, and applaud wherever they can, that to complain of, or be angry at the Few who seek for, and wish to find, Errors only, can proceed alone from that Self-love which is so inherent and[v] irritable in all bosoms, and so difficult to subdue.
Readers are divided into two groups; one will overrate an author much more than they deserve, while the other will undervalue them significantly. However, the main strengths of The Follies of a Day are widely recognized as someone else's achievements, so it would be absurd for me to claim them. Some people have suggested that it’s just a translation, who have never seen, read, or heard the original; if they had, they would be even more mistaken. Few will bother to examine the exact extent of my claims; and even if they did, they wouldn’t have the chance until M. de Beaumarchais decides to publish The Crazy Day. The general public is so eager to overlook flaws and applaud wherever possible that complaining about or getting upset with the few who focus on finding errors comes solely from that self-love that is so deeply rooted and sensitive in everyone, and so hard to control.
To enumerate all the Obstacles encountered and overcome in bringing this Comedy on the English Stage, would be to indulge this Vanity; which it is every wise Man’s Pride, and every prudent Man’s Interest to resist. It may, however, afford some Pleasure to be informed, that, finding it impossible to procure a Copy of the original French, though a Journey to Paris was undertaken expressly for that Purpose, the Copy made use of in the composing The Follies of a Day, was taken by Memory, only, during eight or nine Representations; that I furnished the Plot, Incidents, Entrances, and Exits, and gave some other occasional Hints; that the remainder was the Work of a young Frenchman, whose Talents and whose Heart are an Ornament and an Honour to his Country; and that, after it was brought to England and received by Mr. Harris, it was translated, cast, copied, recopied, studied, and, in one of its longest Parts, re-studied, and played in little more than a Month.[vi] The Attention and Care of Mr. Harris, and the Merits of the respective Performers in playing, as they did, under such Circumstances, need not my Encomiums. Had the Town known the peculiar Exertions, of those especially who performed the longest and most essential Parts, the applause would have been endless. From me they are justly entitled to my warmest and sincerest Thanks.
To list all the obstacles faced and overcome in bringing this comedy to the English stage would be to indulge in vanity, which is something every wise person should resist. However, it might be enjoyable to know that, after finding it impossible to get a copy of the original French text—even after making a trip to Paris specifically for that purpose—the version used to create The Follies of a Day was based solely on memory from around eight or nine performances. I contributed the plot, incidents, entrances, and exits, and provided some other occasional suggestions, while the rest was the work of a young Frenchman whose talent and dedication are a source of pride and honor for his country. Once the play arrived in England and was received by Mr. Harris, it was translated, cast, copied, recopied, studied, and re-studied in one of its longest sections, all within just over a month.[vi] The attention and effort of Mr. Harris, along with the talent of the performers who acted under such circumstances, need no praise from me. If the audience had known the extraordinary efforts of those, especially, who played the longest and most critical roles, the applause would have been endless. They truly deserve my warmest and sincerest thanks.
Upper Mary-le-Bone Street,
Feb. 21, 1785.
Upper Marylebone Street,
Feb. 21, 1785.
Spoken by Mr. DAVIES.
Spoken by Mr. Davies.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
| Count Almaviva, | Mr. Lewis. |
| Don Guzman, | Mr. Quick. |
| Doctor Bartholo, | Mr. Wilson. |
| Figaro, | Mr. Bonnor. |
| Antonio, | Mr. Ed. |
| Basil, | Mr. Wewitzer. |
| Doublefee, | Mr. Thompson. |
| Bounce, | Mr. Stevens. |
| Courier, | Mr. Jones. |
| Crier of the Court, | Mr. Bates. |
| Servant, | Mr. Newton. |
| Page, | Mrs. Martyr. |
| Countess, | Mrs. Bates. |
| Marcelina, | Mrs. Webb. |
| Agnes, | Miss Wewitzer. |
| Susan, | Miss Young. |
| Counsellors, Guards, Vassals. | |
☞ The Passages put between inverted Commas are omitted in the Representation.
☞ The text in quotation marks is not included in the Representation.
ACT I.
SCENE, the Castle of Count ALMAVIVA.
SCENE, the Castle of Count ALMAVIVA.
FIGARO and SUSAN.
FIGARO and SUSAN.
(Figaro measuring the chamber with a wand.)
(Figaro measuring the room with a stick.)
Figaro.
Figaro.
Eighteen feet by twenty-six, good.
18 feet by 26, good.
Susan. What art thou so busy about?
Susan. What are you so busy with?
Figaro. Measuring, to try if the bed our noble Lord intends to give us will stand well here.
Figaro. Measuring to see if the bed our noble Lord plans to give us will fit well here.
Susan. In this chamber!
Susan. In this room!
Figaro. Yes.
Figaro. Definitely.
Susan. I won’t lie in this chamber.
Susan. I won’t lie in this room.
Figaro. Why so?
Figaro. Why's that?
Susan. I tell you I won’t lie in this chamber.
Susan. I’m telling you, I won’t lie in this room.
Figaro. Well but——
Figaro. Well, but——
Susan. I don’t like it.
Susan. I’m not a fan.
Figaro. Your reason.
Figaro. Your logic.
Susan. What if I have no reason?—What if I don’t chuse to give my reason?
Susan. What if I don’t have a reason?—What if I choose not to provide my reason?
Figaro. “Ah, ah!—Thus it is when once they think they have us fast.
Figaro. “Ah, ah!—So it goes when they think they have us trapped.
Susan. “Are you, or are you not my most obedient very humble servant?
Susan. “Are you, or are you not my most obedient and very humble servant?"
Figaro. “Your slave——(Bows very low.)
Figaro. “Your servant——(Bows very low.)
Susan. “Oh!
Susan. “Oh my!
Figaro. “But wherefore take exception to the most convenient room in the whole house?
Figaro. “But why complain about the best room in the entire house?
Susan. “Yes, yes!—The most convenient!—(Satirically.)
Susan. “Yes, yes!—So convenient!—(Satirically.)
Figaro. “If during the night my Lady should be taken ill, she rings her bell, and crack!—in two steps—thou art standing at her side.—In the morning when my Lord wakes, he calls, I start, and pop—three skips and I am there.
Figaro. “If my Lady gets sick during the night, she rings her bell, and just like that—within two steps—I’m right by her side. In the morning, when my Lord wakes up, he calls, I jump, and in three quick steps, I’m there.”
Susan. “Very true—And in the morning when my Lord has sent thee on some fine errand of an hour long, he starts from his bed as soon as Mr. Figaro’s back is turn’d, and crack!—in three skips—he—(significantly.)
Susan. “That’s absolutely right—And in the morning when my Lord has sent you on some important task that takes about an hour, he jumps out of bed as soon as Mr. Figaro's back is turned, and boom!—in three quick hops—he—(significantly.)
Figaro. “He?
Figaro. "Him?"
Susan. “Yes—he——
Susan. “Yes—he——
Figaro. “(Keeps rubbing his forehead and looking at Susan.) He!
Figaro. “(Keeps rubbing his forehead and looking at Susan.) Hey!
Susan. “He!——Dost thou feel any thing?
Susan. “Hey! Do you feel anything?”
Figaro. “(Presses his finger and thumb against his forehead) Buttons!—In pairs!——Mushrooms sprout not so suddenly—Yes, yes—it’s a fruitful spot.”
Figaro. “(Presses his finger and thumb against his forehead) Buttons!—In pairs!——Mushrooms don’t appear this suddenly—Yes, yes—it’s a fertile place.”
Susan. Thou knowest how our generous Count when he by thy help obtained Rosina’s hand, and made her Countess of Almaviva, during the first transports of love abolished a certain gothic right——
Susan. You know how our generous Count, with your help, won Rosina's hand and made her Countess of Almaviva. In the excitement of love, he abolished a certain outdated right——
Figaro. Of sleeping the first night with every Bride.
Figaro. About spending the first night sleeping with each Bride.
Susan. Which as Lord of the Manor he could claim.
Susan. Which as the Lord of the Manor he could claim.
Figaro. Know it!—To be sure I do, or I would not have married even my charming Susan in his Domain.
Figaro. Of course I know him! If I didn't, I wouldn't have married my lovely Susan in his territory.
Susan. Tired of prowling among the rustic beauties of the neighbourhood he returned to the Castle—
Susan. After getting tired of wandering around the charming beauty of the neighborhood, he went back to the Castle—
Figaro. And his wife.
Figaro. And his partner.
Susan. And thy wife—(Figaro stares)—Dost thou understand me?
Susan. And your wife—(Figaro stares)—Do you understand me?
Figaro. Perfectly!
Figaro. Awesome!
Susan. And endeavours, once more, secretly to purchase from her, a right which he now most sincerely repents he ever parted with.
Susan. And he tries, once again, to secretly buy back a right that he now truly regrets giving up in the first place.
Figaro. Most gracious Penitent!
Figaro. Most gracious Penitent!
Susan. This is what he hints to me every instant, and this the faithful Basil, honest agent of his pleasures, and my most noble music master, every day repeats with my lesson.
Susan. This is what he suggests to me all the time, and this is what the loyal Basil, the honest facilitator of his enjoyment, and my most esteemed music teacher, reminds me of every day during my lesson.
Figaro. Basil!
Figaro. Basil!
Susan. Basil.
Susan. Basil.
Figaro. Indeed! But if tough ashen plant or supple-jack twine not round thy lazy sides, Rascal—
Figaro. Seriously! But if tough, ashy plant or flexible twine doesn't wrap around your lazy sides, you rascal—
Susan. Ha, ha, ha! Why wert thou ever wise enough to imagine the portion the Count intends to give us was meant as a reward for thy services?
Susan. Ha, ha, ha! Why were you ever smart enough to think that the share the Count plans to give us was meant as a reward for your services?
Figaro. I think I had some reason to hope as much.
Figaro. I believe I had some reason to be hopeful about that.
Susan. Lord, lord! What great fools are you men of wit!
Susan. Oh my goodness! What huge fools you clever men are!
Figaro. I believe so.
Figaro. I think so.
Susan. I am sure so.
Susan. I'm sure of it.
Figaro. Oh that it were possible to deceive this arch Deceiver, this Lord of mine! To lead him into some excellent snare, pocket his gold and—
Figaro. Oh, if only it were possible to outsmart this master trickster, this Lord of mine! To lure him into a clever trap, take his money and—
Susan. Hah! Now thou art in thy element—Gold and intrigue—Plots and purses—But let him that diggeth a pit beware he—
Susan. Hah! Now you’re in your element—money and secrets—schemes and cash—but let him who digs a pit be careful—
Figaro. I’ll try—“The Lover’s jealousy and the Husband’s shame shall not deter me”—Your trick, most noble Count, is common place—A thousand blundering Boobies have had art enough to filch a Wife from the side of her sleeping, simple, unsuspecting Spouse, and if he complained, to redress his injuries with a cudgel—But to turn the tables on this Poacher, make him pay for a delicious morsel he shall never taste, infect him with fears for his own honor, to—
Figaro. I’ll try—"The Lover's jealousy and the Husband's shame won't hold me back."—Your tactic, dear Count, is pretty typical—Countless clumsy fools have managed to steal a Wife from her sleeping, naive, unsuspecting Husband, and if he protested, to settle his grievances with a beating—But to flip the script on this Poacher, make him pay for a delightful treat he’ll never get to enjoy, fill him with worries about his own reputation, to—
Susan. (The bell rings) Hark! My Lady is awake—I must run, for she has several times strictly charged me to be the first at her bedside the morning of my marriage.
Susan. (The bell rings) Listen! My Lady is awake—I have to hurry, because she has told me multiple times that I need to be the first one at her bedside on the morning of my wedding.
Figaro. Why the first?
Figaro. Why the first one?
Susan. The old saying tells us, that to meet a young Bride the first on the morning of her wedding-day is lucky to a neglected wife. (Going.)
Susan. There's an old saying that says encountering a young bride on the morning of her wedding day brings good luck to a neglected wife. (Going.)
Figaro. Prithee, my Susan, give me a kiss before thou goest—It will quicken my wits, and lend imagination a new impulse.
Figaro. Please, my Susan, give me a kiss before you go—It will sharpen my mind and give my imagination a fresh boost.
Susan. To be sure!—But if I kiss my Lover to-day what will my Husband say to me to-morrow? (seems to refuse, Figaro kisses her). Pshaw Figaro! when wilt thou cease to trifle thus from morning till night (playfully).
Susan. Absolutely!—But if I kiss my lover today, what will my husband say to me tomorrow? (seems to refuse, Figaro kisses her). Oh come on, Figaro! When will you stop messing around like this all day? (playfully).
Figaro. When I may trifle from night to morning (in the same tone).
Figaro. When I can mess around from night till morning (in the same tone).
Susan. There, there—There’s all the kisses I shall give.
Susan. There, there—That's all the kisses I'm going to give.
(Kisses her hand at him and runs, he pursues to the side.)
(Kisses his hand and runs away; he chases after her to the side.)
Figaro. Stop, stop, you cheating little knave; that was not the way you received them. (Returns) A sweet Girl! An Angel! Such wit! Such grace! and so much prudence and modesty too!—I am a happy fellow!—So Mr. Basil! Is it me, Rascal, you mean to practice the tricks of your trade upon?—I’ll teach you to put your spoon in my milk—But hold—Dissemble is the word—Feign we ignorance and endeavour to catch them in their own traps—I wondered why the Count, who had made me Steward and Inspector-general of the Castle, should change his mind so suddenly, and want to take me with him on his embassy to Paris, there to institute me his Messenger in ordinary—A cunning contrivance that—He, Plenipotentiary in chief, I, a break-neck Politician, and Susan, Lady of the back-stairs, Ambassadress of the bed-chamber—I dashing through thick and thin and wearing myself to a skeleton, for the good of my most gracious Lord’s family, and he labouring, night and day, for the increase of mine—Really, most honorable Count, you are too kind—What to represent his Majesty and me both at once—It’s too much, too much by half——A moment’s reflection friend Figaro on the events of the day—First, thou must promote the Sports and Feasting already projected, that appearances may not cool, but that thy Marriage may proceed with greater certainty; next, keep off one madam Marcelina, whose liquorish mouth waters at thee, and to whom thou hast given a Promise of Marriage, in default of the repayment of certain borrowed Sums which it would be very convenient to thy affairs never more to mention—Talk of the Devil and——
Figaro. Stop, stop, you sneaky little brat; that’s not how you got them. (Returns) A sweet girl! An angel! So witty! So graceful! And so much wisdom and modesty too!—I’m a lucky guy!—So Mr. Basil! Is it me, you little rascal, that you plan to pull your tricks on?—I’ll teach you to meddle with my business—But wait—Dissemble is the word—Let’s pretend we’re clueless and try to catch them in their own schemes—I was wondering why the Count, who made me the Steward and Inspector-General of the Castle, suddenly changed his mind and wanted to take me with him on his trip to Paris, to make me his official Messenger—What a clever scheme—He, the main diplomat, I, a reckless politician, and Susan, Lady of the back-stairs, ambassador of the bedroom—I’ll be rushing around endlessly and wearing myself thin for the sake of my gracious Lord’s family, while he works day and night to benefit mine—Really, most honorable Count, you’re too generous—To represent both his Majesty and me at the same time—it’s too much, way too much—A moment’s thought, friend Figaro, about today’s events—First, you need to push forward the sports and festivities already planned, so that things don’t cool down, and your wedding can go ahead with more certainty; next, keep away one madam Marcelina, whose greedy eyes are on you, and to whom you promised marriage, if she would forgive your debts which it would be very convenient for you never to mention again—Talk about the devil and—
Enter Doctor BARTHOLO and MARCELINA.
Enter Dr. BARTHOLO and MARCELINA.
Marcelina. Good-morrow to Mr. Bridegroom.
Marcelina. Good morning to Mr. Bridegroom.
Figaro. Good-morrow to madam Marcelina—What! My old fat friend the Doctor! Are you there?
Figaro. Good morning to you, Madam Marcelina—What! My old chubby friend the Doctor! Are you here?
Doctor. Yes, Knave’s face.
Doctor. Yes, the Knave's face.
Figaro. As witty, I perceive, and no doubt as wise as ever—And have you been complaisant enough to come thus far to see me married?
Figaro. You seem just as clever and undoubtedly as wise as ever—Have you been kind enough to come this far to see me get married?
Doctor. To see thee hang’d.
Doctor. To see you hanged.
Figaro. Most kind Doctor—But who takes care of your Mule? I know you have as much mercy on your Beast as you have on your Patient.
Figaro. Most kind Doctor—But who looks after your mule? I know you care for your beast as much as you do for your patient.
Doctor. Do you hear him?
Doctor. Do you hear him?
Figaro. And you, gentle Marcelina, do you still wish to marry me—What, because I cannot fall in love with you, would you drive me to hate you?
Figaro. And you, kind Marcelina, do you still want to marry me—What, just because I can’t fall in love with you, would you push me to hate you?
[Exit Figaro.
[Leave Figaro.
Doctor. The Rascal will never mend.
Doctor. The Rascal won't change.
Marcelina. ’Tis you, Doctor, will never mend—“You are so eternally wise, dull and slow, that when a Patient has need of your assistance he may die before you get to him, like as formerly your Mistress got married in spite of your precautions.”
Marcelina. It's you, Doctor, who will never change—"You are so incredibly wise, dull, and sluggish that when a patient needs your help, he might die before you reach him, just like your Mistress got married despite your efforts."
Doctor. Was it to entertain me thus agreeably that you sent for me in such haste from Seville?
Doctor. Did you call me here in such a hurry from Seville just to entertain me like this?
Marcelina. Not entirely for that.
Marcelina. Not completely for that.
Doctor. What then—Is any body ill? Is the Count indisposed?
Doctor. What's going on? Is someone sick? Is the Count unwell?
Marcelina. No, it is the Countess who is indisposed.
Marcelina. No, it's the Countess who isn't feeling well.
Doctor. What the artful, the deceitful Rosina? What’s her disorder?
Doctor. What a clever, tricky Rosina! What’s her issue?
Marcelina. A faithless Husband.
Marcelina. A disloyal husband.
Doctor. A very common complaint indeed.
Doctor. A really common complaint.
Marcelina. The Count forsakes her, and falls in love with every fresh face.
Marcelina. The Count abandons her and falls in love with every new face.
Doctor. I am glad of it—I am glad of it—I foresaw it—I thought Count Almaviva would revenge the wrongs of Doctor Bartholo.
Doctor. I'm glad about it—I'm really glad—I saw this coming—I thought Count Almaviva would get back at Doctor Bartholo for the wrongs he did.
Marcelina. After toying with a thousand neighbouring Beauties, he now returns to the castle to terminate the marriage of Susan and Figaro.
Marcelina. After flirting with countless local Beauties, he now returns to the castle to wrap up the marriage between Susan and Figaro.
Doctor. Which he himself has made necessary.
Doctor. Which he has created as a necessity.
Marcelina. Oh no—But at which he wishes to act rather as a Principal than an Agent.
Marcelina. Oh no—But he wants to act more like a Principal than an Agent.
Doctor. In private with the Bride.
Doctor. Alone with the Bride.
Marcelina. Even so.
Marcelina. Still.
Doctor. She I suppose has no great objection.
Doctor. I guess she doesn't really mind much.
Marcelina. Charitable Doctor—Basil, however, her music master, who takes great pains to instruct her, says to the contrary.
Marcelina. Charitable Doctor—Basil, her music teacher, who works hard to teach her, says otherwise.
Doctor. Basil! What is that other Rascal here too?—Why the house is a den of Thieves—What does he do here?
Doctor. Basil! What’s that other troublemaker doing here?—This house is a den of thieves—What’s he even doing here?
Marcelina. All the mischief he can—He persecutes me with his odious love unceasingly; I cannot get rid of him.
Marcelina. He causes all the trouble he can—He constantly hounds me with his disgusting love; I can't shake him off.
Doctor. Marry him—I’ll answer for his cure.
Doctor. Marry him—I’ll take responsibility for his recovery.
Marcelina. That’s what he wants—But pray Doctor, why will not you get rid of me by the same means? The claims of Justice and oaths out of number should—
Marcelina. That’s what he wants—But please, Doctor, why won’t you get rid of me in the same way? The demands of Justice and countless oaths should—
Doctor. So so so so—What is the matrimonial furor come upon you again?
Doctor. So, what's got you all worked up about marriage again?
Marcelina. Our long lost son, Fernando! the dear pledge of my virgin love! were he but found, perhaps—
Marcelina. Our long-lost son, Fernando! The precious promise of my pure love! If only he could be found, maybe—
Doctor. And so you sent for me to hear this stale rhodomontade?
Doctor. So you called me here to listen to this old nonsense?
Marcelina. “And are you, now you have lost your Rosina, as inflexible and unjust as ever?”
Marcelina. “So, now that you've lost your Rosina, are you just as stubborn and unfair as ever?”
Doctor. Pshaw!
Doctor. No way!
Marcelina. Well—Since you are determined never to marry me yourself, will you have the complaisance to aid me in marrying another?
Marcelina. Well—Since you’re set on never marrying me yourself, will you kindly help me find someone else to marry?
Doctor. With all my heart!—With all my heart!—
Doctor. With all my heart!—With all my heart!—
Marcelina. Ah! (curtsies).
Marcelina. Oh! (curtsies).
Doctor. But who?—What miserable Mortal, abandoned of Heaven and Women—
Doctor. But who?—What wretched person, left behind by both God and women—
Marcelina. Who but the amiable, the gay, the ever sprightly Figaro?
Marcelina. Who else but the charming, the cheerful, the always lively Figaro?
Doctor. Figaro! That Rascal!
Doctor. Figaro! That troublemaker!
Marcelina. Youthful and generous!
Marcelina. Young and generous!
Doctor. As a Highwayman.
Doctor. As a thief.
Marcelina. As a Nobleman—
Marcelina. As a Noble—
Doctor. Pshaw, impossible! what on the very day he is going to marry another?
Doctor. No way! How could that happen on the very day he's getting married to someone else?
Marcelina. “Things more improbable have come to pass.
Marcelina. "Stranger things have happened."
Doctor. “But your motive?
Doctor. “But what's your motive?"
Marcelina. “For you, Doctor, I have no secrets.
Marcelina. “I have no secrets from you, Doctor.
Doctor. “Women seldom have for Doctors.
Doctor. “Women rarely go to Doctors."
Marcelina. “I own our sex, though timid, is ardent in the pursuit of pleasure. There is, in all our bosoms, a small still voice which unceasing cries—Woman, be as beautiful as thou canst, as virtuous as thou wilt, but, at all events, be conspicuous, be talk’d about; for thy Wisdom, if thou hast it—if not for thy Folly.
Marcelina. “I believe our sexuality, though shy, is passionate in the chase for pleasure. Inside all of us, there’s a quiet voice that constantly whispers—Woman, be as beautiful as you can, as virtuous as you choose, but above all, stand out, be talked about; whether for your wisdom, if you possess it—or for your foolishness.”
Doctor. “She utters Oracles—Well, well, accomplish this, and I will engage you shall be talk’d about.”
Doctor. "She makes predictions—Alright, alright, do this, and I promise you will be the talk of the town."
Marcelina. We must endeavour to work upon Susan by fear and shame, for the more obstinately she refuses the amorous offers of the Count, the more effectually she will serve our purpose; disappointment and revenge will lead him to support my cause, and as he is sovereign Judge in his own Lordship, his power may make Figaro’s promise of marriage to me valid.
Marcelina. We need to try to influence Susan through fear and shame, because the more she stubbornly turns down the Count’s romantic advances, the better it will work for us. His disappointment and desire for revenge will push him to back my case, and since he’s the ultimate authority in his domain, his power could make Figaro’s promise of marriage to me legitimate.
Doctor. Promise—Has he given you any such promise?
Doctor. Promise—Has he made you any promise like that?
Marcelina. A written one—You shall see it.
Marcelina. It's in writing—you'll see.
Doctor. By Galen, this is excellent! The rascal shall marry my old House-keeper, and I shall be revenged for the tricks he lately played me, and the hundred pistoles he contrived to cheat me of.
Doctor. By Galen, this is great! The scoundrel will marry my old housekeeper, and I’ll get back at him for the tricks he recently pulled on me and the hundred pistoles he managed to swindle me out of.
Marcelina. (transported) Yes, yes, Doctor! I shall have him! He shall marry me! He shall marry me!
Marcelina. (transported) Yes, yes, Doctor! I’m going to have him! He will marry me! He will marry me!
Enter SUSAN, with a gown on her arm, and a cap and riband of the Countess, in her hand.
Enter SUSAN, holding a gown on her arm, and a cap and ribbon of the Countess, in her hand.
Susan. Marry you! Who is to marry you? Not my Figaro, I assure you, madam.
Susan. Marry you! Who's going to marry you? Definitely not my Figaro, I can assure you, ma'am.
Marcelina. Why not me, as soon as you, madam?
Marcelina. Why not me, just like you, ma'am?
Susan. Indeed! your most obedient, madam.
Susan. Absolutely! Your most obedient servant, madam.
Doctor. (aside) So now for a merry scolding match.—We were saying, handsome Susan, how happy Figaro must be in such a Bride—
Doctor. (aside) So now for a fun little scolding match.—We were saying, beautiful Susan, how happy Figaro must be with such a bride—
(Susan curtsies to the Doctor.)
(Susan bows to the Doctor.)
Marcelina. Not to mention the secret satisfaction of my Lord the Count.
Marcelina. Plus, the secret satisfaction of my Lord the Count.
Susan. Dear madam, you are so abundantly kind.
Susan. Dear ma'am, you are so incredibly kind.
Marcelina. Not so abundant in kindness, as a liberal young Lord—But I own it is very natural, he should partake the pleasures he so freely bestows upon his Vassals.
Marcelina. Not as generous in kindness as a wealthy young Lord—but I admit, it's only natural for him to enjoy the pleasures he so openly shares with his Vassals.
Susan. (half angry) Partake—Happily madam, your Envy is as obvious, and your Slander as false, as your Claims on Figaro are weak and ill founded.
Susan. (half angry) Participate—Happily ma'am, your jealousy is clear, and your insults are as untrue as your claims on Figaro are weak and unfounded.
Marcelina. “If they are weak, it is because I wanted the art to strengthen them, after the manner of madam.
Marcelina. “If they’re weak, it’s because I wanted the art to empower them, just like madam intended."
Susan. “Yet madam has ever been reckoned a mistress of her art.
Susan. “Yet she has always been considered a master of her craft.
Marcelina. “I hope, madam, I shall always have your good word, madam. (Curtsies.)
Marcelina. “I hope, ma'am, I can always count on your support, ma'am. (Curtsies.)
Susan. “Oh, I can assure you, madam, you have nothing to regret on that score, madam.” (Curtsies mockingly.)
Susan. “Oh, I can assure you, ma'am, you have nothing to regret about that, ma'am.” (Curtsies mockingly.)
Marcelina. The young Lady is really a very pretty kind of Person—(with a contemptuous side glance.)
Marcelina. The young lady is actually quite a beautiful person—(with a disdainful side look.)
Susan. Oh yes (mimicking) The young Lady is at least as pretty as the old Lady.
Susan. Oh yeah (mimicking) The young woman is just as pretty as the older woman.
Marcelina. “And very respectable.
Marcelina. "And very respectable."
Susan. “Respectable! Oh no, that is the characteristic of a Duenna.
Susan. “Respectable! Oh no, that’s what a Duenna is all about.
Marcelina. “A Duenna! A Duenna!
Marcelina. “A Chaperone! A Chaperone!
Doctor. (coming between them) “Come, come—
Doctor. (stepping in) “Come on—
Marcelina. “I—I—You—your very humble servant, madam.
Marcelina. “I—I—You—your very humble servant, ma'am.
Susan. “Your most devoted, madam.”
Susan. “Your biggest fan, ma'am.”
Marcelina. Farewell, madam.
Marcelina. Goodbye, ma'am.
(Exeunt Doctor and Marcelina.)
(Exit Doctor and Marcelina.)
Susan. Adieu, madam—this old Sibyl, because she formerly tormented the infancy of my Lady, thinks she has a right to domineer over every[11] person in the Castle—I declare I have forgot what I came for.
Susan. Goodbye, ma'am—this old Sibyl, since she used to bother my Lady when she was young, thinks she has the right to boss everyone around in the Castle—I honestly can't remember what I came here for.
(Susan bangs the gown on a great arm chair that stands in the room, and keeps the cap and riband of the Countess in her hand.)
(Susan hangs the gown on a big armchair in the room, and holds the Countess's cap and ribbon in her hand.)
Enter HANNIBAL the Page, running.
Enter HANNIBAL the Page, running.
Susan. So, Youth! What do you do here?
Susan. So, hey there, Youth! What do you do around here?
Page. Good morrow, Susan—I have been watching these two hours to find you alone.
Page. Good morning, Susan—I’ve been waiting here for two hours to see you alone.
Susan. Well, what have you to say, now you have found me?
Susan. So, what do you have to say now that you've found me?
Page. (Childishly amorous) How does your beauteous Lady do, Susan?
Page. (Childishly amorous) How is your beautiful lady, Susan?
Susan. Very well.
Susan. Sounds good.
Page. (Poutingly) Do you know, Susan, my Lord is going to send me back to my Pappa and Mamma?
Page. (Poutingly) Do you know, Susan, my lord is going to send me back to my dad and mom?
Susan. Poor Child!
Susan. Poor kid!
Page. Child indeed!—Umph!—And if my charming God-mother, your dear Lady, cannot obtain my pardon, I shall soon be deprived of the pleasure of your company, Susan.
Page. Child, for sure!—Umph!—And if my wonderful godmother, your lovely lady, can't get me forgiven, I’ll soon miss the joy of being with you, Susan.
Susan. Upon my word!—He is toying all day long with Agnes, and is, moreover, in love with my Lady, and then comes to tell me he shall be deprived of my company. (Aside.)
Susan. I can't believe it!—He’s been flirting all day with Agnes and is also in love with my Lady, and then he comes to tell me he’ll be missing my company. (Aside.)
Page. Agnes is good natured enough to listen to me, and that is more than you are, Susan, for all I love you so.
Page. Agnes is kind enough to listen to me, and that’s more than you are, Susan, despite how much I love you.
Susan. Love me!—Why you amorous little villain, you are in love with every Woman you meet.
Susan. Love me!—You charming little troublemaker, you’re in love with every woman you meet.
Page. So I am, Susan, and I can’t help it—If no-body is by, I swear it to the trees, the waters, and the winds, nay, to myself—Yesterday I happened to meet Marcelina—
Page. So here I am, Susan, and I can't help it—If no one is around, I promise it to the trees, the water, and the wind, and even to myself—Yesterday I ran into Marcelina—
Susan. Marcelina! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Susan. Marcelina! LOL!
Page. Why, she is a Woman, Susan.
Page. Well, she's a woman, Susan.
Susan. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Susan. LOL!
Page. And what’s more, unmarried? Oh how sweet are the words Woman, Maiden, and Love, in my ear!
Page. And what's more, unmarried? Oh how sweet the words Woman, Maiden, and Love sound in my ear!
Susan. Ha! ha! ha!—He’s bewitch’d!—And what is the Count going to send you from the Castle for?
Susan. Ha! ha! ha!—He’s under a spell!—And why is the Count sending you something from the Castle?
Page. Last night, you must know, he caught me in the chamber with Agnes; begone, said he, thou little—
Page. Last night, you should know, he caught me in the room with Agnes; leave, he said, you little—
Susan. Little what?
Susan. Little what now?
Page. Lord, he called me such a name, I can’t for shame repeat it before a woman.
Page. Man, he called me that name; I can’t say it out loud in front of a woman.
Susan. And what were you doing in the chamber of Agnes?
Susan. So, what were you doing in Agnes's room?
Page. Teaching her her part.
Page. Teaching her role.
Susan. Her part?
Susan. What's her role?
Page. Yes, the love scene, you know, she is to play in the Comedy this evening.
Page. Yes, the love scene; you know, she’s performing in the comedy tonight.
Susan. Which my Lord would chuse to teach her himself. (aside.)
Susan. Which my Lord would choose to teach her himself. (aside.)
Page. Agnes is very kind, Susan.
Page. Agnes is really nice, Susan.
Susan. Well, well, I’ll tell the Countess what you say—But you are a little more circumspect in her presence.
Susan. Well, well, I'll tell the Countess what you said—but you're a bit more careful when she's around.
Page. Ah Susan, she is a Divinity! How noble is her manner! Her very smiles are awful!
Page. Ah Susan, she is divine! How graceful is her demeanor! Even her smiles are intense!
Susan. That is to say, you can take what liberties you please with such people as me.
Susan. In other words, you can do whatever you want with someone like me.
Page. Oh how do I envy thy happiness, Susan! Always near her! Dressing her every morning! Undressing her every evening! Putting her to bed! Touching her! Looking at her! Speaking to—What is it thou hast got there, Susan?
Page. Oh how I envy your happiness, Susan! Always close to her! Getting her ready every morning! Taking her clothes off every evening! Tucking her in at night! Touching her! Looking at her! Talking to—What do you have there, Susan?
Susan. (Counterfeiting the amorous air, and animated[13] tone of the Page.) It is the fortunate riband of the happy cap, which at night enfolds the auburn ringlets of the beauteous Countess.
Susan. (Imitating the romantic vibe and lively tone of the Page.) It's the lucky ribbon of the cheerful hat that at night wraps around the gorgeous curls of the beautiful Countess.
Page. Give it me—Nay, give it me—I will have it.
Page. Give it to me—No, give it to me—I need it.
Susan. But I say you shan’t (the Page snatches it, and runs round the great chair, dodging Susan) Oh my riband!
Susan. But I say you can’t do that. (the Page grabs it and runs around the big chair, avoiding Susan) Oh my ribbon!
Page. Be as angry as thou wilt, but thou shalt never have it again, thou shouldst have one of my eyes rather.
Page. Be as angry as you want, but you will never have it again; you might as well have one of my eyes instead.
Susan. I can venture to predict, young gentleman, that three or four years hence, thou wilt be one of the most deceitful veriest Knaves—
Susan. I can confidently predict, young man, that in three or four years, you will be one of the most deceitful scoundrels—
Page. If thou dost not hold thy tongue, Susan, I’ll kiss thee into the bargain.
Page. If you don't keep quiet, Susan, I'll kiss you too.
Susan. Kiss me!—Do not come near me, if thou lov’st thy ears—I say, beg my Lord to forgive you, indeed! No I assure you—“I shall say to him, you do very right, my Lord, to send this little Rascal packing, who is not only in love with my Lady, but wants to kiss other folks into the bargain.”
Susan. Kiss me!—Stay away from me if you care about your ears—I mean it, ask my Lord to forgive you, seriously! No, I assure you—"I’ll tell him, you’re completely right, my Lord, to send this little troublemaker away, who is not only in love with my Lady but also wants to kiss other people on top of that."
Page. “How can I help it, Susan”? Here, take this paper.
Page. "How can I prevent it, Susan?" Here, take this paper.
Susan. For what?
Susan. For what reason?
Page. It contains a Song I have written on thy beauteous Lady, my charming God-mother.
Page. It includes a song I wrote about your beautiful lady, my lovely godmother.
Count. (without) Jaquez.
Count. (excluding) Jaquez.
Page. Ah! I’m undone!—’Tis my Lord!
Page. Ah! I’m finished!—It’s my Lord!
(The Page crouches down, and hides himself behind Susan’s petticoats and the great chair.)
(The Page squats down and hides behind Susan’s petticoats and the big chair.)
Enter Count ALMAVIVA.
Enter Count Almaviva.
(Page remains hid behind the great chair.)
Page is still hidden behind the big chair.
Count. So, charming Susan, have I found thee at last? But thou seemest frightened my little Beauty.
Count. So, charming Susan, have I finally found you? But you seem scared, my little Beauty.
Susan. Consider, my Lord, if any body should come and catch you here—
Susan. Think about it, my Lord, what would happen if someone found you here—
Count. That would be rather mal-a-propos; but there’s no great danger.
Count. That would be pretty inappropriate; but there’s not much risk.
(The Count offers to kiss Susan.)
(The Count offers to kiss Susan.)
Susan. Fie, my Lord!
Susan. No way, my Lord!
(The Count seats himself in the great chair, and endeavours to pull Susan on his knee, who resists.)
(The Count sits down in the big chair and tries to pull Susan onto his lap, but she resists.)
Count. Thou knowest, my charming Susan, the King has done me the honour to appoint me Ambassador to the court of Paris. I shall take Figaro with me, and give him a very—excellent post; and as it is the duty of a Wife to follow her Husband, we shall then have every opportunity we could wish.
Count. You know, my lovely Susan, the King has honored me by appointing me Ambassador to the court of Paris. I’ll take Figaro with me and give him a very—great position; and since it’s a wife’s duty to follow her husband, we’ll then have every opportunity we could wish for.
Susan. I really don’t understand you, my Lord. I thought your affection for my Lady, whom you took so much pains to steal from her old Guardian, Dr. Bartholo, and for love of whom you generously abolished a certain vile privilege.—
Susan. I really don’t get you, my Lord. I thought you cared for my Lady, whom you went to great lengths to take from her old Guardian, Dr. Bartholo, and for whom you selflessly got rid of a certain disgusting privilege.
Count. For which all the young girls are very sorry; are they not?
Count. All the young girls are really upset about that; aren't they?
Susan. No indeed, my Lord—I thought, my Lord, I say—
Susan. No, really, my Lord—I thought, my Lord, I mean—
Count. Prithee say no more, my sweet Susan, but promise thou wilt meet me this evening, at twilight, by the Pavilion in the garden; and be certain, that if thou wilt but grant me this small favour, nothing thou canst ask shall—
Count. Please say no more, my sweet Susan, but promise you will meet me this evening, at twilight, by the Pavilion in the garden; and be sure that if you grant me this small favor, nothing you ask for will—
Basil. (without.) He is not in his own room.
Basil. (without.) He's not in his own room.
Count. Heavens! Here’s somebody coming! Where can I hide! Is there no place here?
Count. Oh no! Someone's coming! Where can I hide? Is there no place for me to go?
(The Count runs to get behind the great chair, Susan keeps between him and the Page, who steals away as the Count advances, leaps into the great chair, with his legs doubled under him, and is covered over with the Countess’s gown, by Susan.)
(The Count rushes to hide behind the big chair, while Susan steps in between him and the Page, who sneaks away as the Count moves forward. The Count then jumps into the big chair, tucking his legs beneath him, and is covered with the Countess’s gown by Susan.)
Enter BASIL.
Enter Basil.
Basil. Ah, Susan, Good morrow—Is my lord the Count here?
Basil. Hey, Susan, good morning—Is my lord the Count here?
Susan. Here! What should he be here for?
Susan. Here! What does he need to be here for?
Basil. Nay, there would be no miracle in it if he were: would there, hey gentle Susan? (Smiles and leers at her.)
Basil. No, it wouldn't be a miracle if he were: would it, sweet Susan? (Smiles and leers at her.)
Susan. It would be a greater miracle to see you honest.
Susan. It would be more amazing to see you be honest.
Basil. Figaro is in search of him.
Basil. Figaro is searching for him.
Susan. Then he is in search of the man who wishes most to injure him—yourself excepted.
Susan. So, he’s looking for the person who wants to hurt him the most—everyone but you.
Basil. It is strange, that a man should injure the Husband by obliging the Wife.
Basil. It's odd that a man would hurt the husband by helping the wife.
(The Count peeps from behind the great chair.)
(The Count peeks out from behind the big chair.)
Count. I shall hear, now, how well he pleads my cause.
Count. I'm about to hear how well he argues for me.
Basil. For my part, Marriage being, of all serious things, the greatest Farce, I imagined—
Basil. As for me, marriage is, of all serious things, the biggest joke, I thought—
Susan. All manner of wickedness.
Susan. All kinds of evil.
Basil. That though you are obliged to fast to-day, you might be glad to feed to-morrow, grace being first duly said.
Basil. Even though you have to fast today, you can look forward to enjoying a meal tomorrow, after the grace is said.
Susan. Be gone, and do not shock my ears with your vile principles.
Susan. Leave, and don't bother me with your disgusting beliefs.
Basil. Yes, my pretty Susan, but you must not suppose I am the dupe of these fine appearances. I know it isn’t Figaro who is the great obstacle to my Lord’s happiness, but a certain beardless Page, whom I surprised here, this morning, looking for you as I entered.
Basil. Yes, my lovely Susan, but don’t think I’m fooled by these nice appearances. I know it’s not Figaro who is blocking my Lord’s happiness, but a certain beardless Page I caught here this morning looking for you as I walked in.
Susan. I wish you would be gone, you wicked—Devil.
Susan. I wish you would just leave, you evil—Devil.
Basil. Wicked Devil! Ah, one is a wicked Devil for not shutting one’s eyes.
Basil. You're such a wicked Devil! Ah, you're a wicked Devil for not closing your eyes.
Susan. I wish you would be gone, I tell you.
Susan. I really wish you would just leave, I'm telling you.
Basil. Was it not for you that he wrote the Song, which he goes chanting up and down the house, at every instant?
Basil. Wasn't it because of you that he wrote the song that he keeps singing all around the house every moment?
Susan. O yes! For me, to be sure!
Susan. Oh yes! Totally my thing!
Basil. At least it was either for you, or your Lady.
Basil. At least it was either for you or your lady.
Susan. What next?
Susan. What now?
Basil. Why really, when he sits at table, he does cast certain very significant glances towards a beauteous Countess, who shall be nameless—But let him beware! If my Lord catches him at his tricks, he’ll make him dance without music.
Basil. Honestly, when he’s sitting at the table, he gives some pretty meaningful looks toward a beautiful Countess, who shall remain nameless—but he better watch out! If my Lord catches him in his games, he’ll make him dance to no music.
Susan. Nobody, but such a wicked creature as you, could ever invent such scandalous tales, to the ruin of a poor Youth, who has unhappily fallen into his Lord’s disgrace.
Susan. No one, except a wicked person like you, could come up with such scandalous stories that would ruin a poor young man who has sadly fallen out of favor with his Lord.
Basil. I invent! Why it is in every body’s mouth.
Basil. I'm making it up! It's on everyone's lips.
(The Count discovers himself, and comes forward.)
(The Count realizes who he is and steps forward.)
Count. How! In every body’s mouth!
Count. How! In everyone's mouth!
Basil. Zounds.
Basil. Wow.
Count. Run, Basil, let him have fifty pistoles and a horse given him, and sent back to his friends instantly.
Count. Go, Basil, give him fifty pistoles and a horse, and send him back to his friends right away.
Basil. I’m very sorry, my Lord, I happened to speak—
Basil. I'm really sorry, my Lord, I happened to say—
Susan. I’m quite suffocated.
Susan. I'm feeling really overwhelmed.
(Susan seems almost ready to faint, the Count supports her, and Basil assists.)
(Susan looks like she’s about to faint; the Count is helping her, and Basil is assisting.)
Count. Let us seat her in this great chair, Basil.
Count. Let's sit her in this big chair, Basil.
Susan. (Frightened, and exclaims) No!—I won’t sit down!——(After a pause)—This wicked fellow has ruined the poor boy.
Susan. (Frightened, and exclaims) No!—I won’t sit down!——(After a pause)—This terrible guy has ruined the poor boy.
Basil. I assure you, my Lord, what I said, was only meant to sound Susan.
Basil. I promise you, my Lord, what I said was only meant to test Susan.
Count. No matter, he shall depart! A little, wanton, impudent Rascal, that I meet at every turning—No longer ago than yesterday I surprised him with the Gardener’s daughter.
Count. It doesn't matter, he's leaving! A bit of a cheeky, bold troublemaker that I run into everywhere—I even caught him with the Gardener’s daughter just yesterday.
Basil. Agnes?
Basil. Agnes?
Count. In her very bed-chamber.
Count. In her own bedroom.
Susan. Where my Lord happened to have business himself.
Susan. Where my Lord had business to attend to himself.
Count. Hem!—I was going there to seek your uncle Antonio, Susan, my drunken Gardener; I knock’d at the door, and waited some time; at last Agnes came, with confusion in her countenance—I entered, cast a look round, and perceiving a kind of long Cloak, or Curtain, or some such thing, approach’d, and without seeming to take the least notice, drew it gently aside, thus—Hey!
Count. Hem!—I was heading there to find your uncle Antonio, Susan, my drunken Gardener; I knocked on the door and waited for a while. Eventually, Agnes came, looking flustered—I walked in, looked around, and noticed a long cloak or curtain or something similar. I approached it and, without acting like I noticed anything, gently pulled it aside, like this—Hey!
Basil. Zounds!
Basil. Wow!
(The Count, during his speech, approaches the arm chair, and acting his description draws aside the gown that hides the Page. They all stand motionless with surprise, for some time.)
(The Count, while giving his speech, walks over to the armchair and, as he describes it, pulls aside the gown that covers the Page. They all stand frozen in shock for a while.)
Count. Why, this is a better trick than t’other!
Count. Wow, this is a better trick than the other one!
Basil. No!—I won’t sit down! (Mimicking Susan.)
Basil. No! I’m not sitting down! (Imitating Susan.)
Count. (To Susan) And so it was to receive this pretty Youth, that you were so desirous of being alone—And you, you little Villain, what you don’t intend to mend your manners then? But forgetting all respect for your friend Figaro, and for the Countess your Godmother, likewise, you are endeavouring here to seduce her favourite woman! I, however (turning towards Basil) shall not suffer Figaro, a man—whom—I esteem—sincerely—to fall the Victim of such deceit—Did he enter with you, Basil?
Count. (To Susan) So, you wanted to be alone to entertain this charming young man—And you, little rascal, are you not planning to improve your behavior? You’ve completely disregarded your friend Figaro and the Countess, your godmother, and now you're trying to flirt with her favorite woman! I, however (turning towards Basil), won’t let Figaro, a man—I truly admire—be a victim of such trickery. Did he come in with you, Basil?
Basil. No, my Lord.
Basil. No, my lord.
Susan. There is neither Victim nor deceit in the case, my Lord. He was here when you entered.
Susan. There's no victim or deception in this case, my Lord. He was here when you walked in.
Count. I hope that’s false: his greatest Enemy could not wish him so much mischief.
Count. I hope that's not true: his worst enemy couldn't wish him so much harm.
Susan. Knowing that you were angry with him, the poor Boy came running to me, begging me to solicit my Lady in his favor, in hopes she might engage you to forgive him; but was so terrified, as soon as he heard you coming, that he hid himself in the great Chair.
Susan. Knowing you were upset with him, the poor guy came running to me, asking me to speak to my Lady on his behalf, hoping she could convince you to forgive him; but he got so scared when he heard you coming that he hid himself in the big chair.
Count. A likely story—I sat down in it, as soon as I came in.
Count. Sounds believable—I sat down in it as soon as I walked in.
Page. Yes, my Lord, but I was then trembling behind it.
Page. Yes, my Lord, but I was shaking behind it.
Count. That’s false, again, for I hid myself behind it, when Basil entered.
Count. That’s not true again, because I was hiding behind it when Basil came in.
Page. (Timidly) Pardon me, my Lord, but as you approach’d, I retired, and crouched down as you now see me.
Page. (Timidly) Excuse me, my Lord, but when you came closer, I stepped back and crouched down just like you see me now.
Page. Indeed, my Lord, I did all I could not to hear a word.
Page. Yes, my Lord, I did everything I could to avoid hearing a word.
Count. (To Susan) There is no Figaro, no Husband for you, however.
Count. (To Susan) There's no Figaro, no husband for you, though.
Basil. Somebody is coming; get down.
Basil. Someone's coming; hide.
Enter the COUNTESS, FIGARO, AGNES, and VASSALS, in their holiday cloaths. Figaro carrying the nuptial cap—The Count runs and plucks the Page from the great chair, just as they enter.
Enter the COUNTESS, FIGARO, AGNES, and VASSALS, in their holiday clothes. Figaro carrying the wedding cap—The Count runs and grabs the Page from the big chair, just as they enter.
Count. What! Would you continue crouching there before the whole world?
Count. What! Are you really going to keep crouching there in front of everyone?
(The Count and Countess salute.
(The Count and Countess wave.
Figaro. We are come, my Lord, to beg a favour, which we hope, for your Lady’s sake, you will grant. (Aside to Susan) Be sure to second what I say.
Figaro. We've come, my Lord, to ask for a favor, which we hope you'll grant for your Lady's sake. (Aside to Susan) Make sure to back me up on this.
Susan. It will end in nothing. (Aside.
Susan. It's going to lead to nothing. (Aside.
Figaro. No matter: let us try, at least. (Aside.
Figaro. It doesn't matter: let's give it a shot, at least. (Aside.
Countess. You see, my Lord, I am supposed to have a much greater degree of influence over you than I really possess.
Countess. You see, my Lord, I'm expected to have a lot more influence over you than I actually do.
Count. Oh no, my Lady; not an atom, I assure you.
Count. Oh no, my Lady; not at all, I promise you.
Figaro. (Presenting the cap to the Count) Our petition is, that the Bride may have the honor of receiving from our worthy Lord’s hand, this Nuptial-Cap; ornamented with half-blown roses, and white ribbands, Symbols of the purity of his intentions.
Figaro. (Presenting the cap to the Count) We humbly ask that the Bride may have the privilege of receiving this Wedding Cap from our esteemed Lord’s hand; decorated with half-bloomed roses and white ribbons, symbols of the purity of his intentions.
Count. Do they mean to laugh at me? (Aside.
Count. Are they trying to mock me? (Aside.
Figaro. “And as you have been kindly pleased to abolish that abominable right, which, as Lord of the Manor, you might have claimed, permit us, your Vassals, to celebrate your praise, in a rustic Chorus I have prepared for this occasion. The Virtues of so good a master should not remain unsung.
Figaro. “Since you've generously decided to get rid of that awful right that, as Lord of the Manor, you could have claimed, let us, your Vassals, celebrate your praise with a rustic Chorus I've put together for this occasion. The qualities of such a good master should not go unsung.
Count. “A Lover, a Poet, and a Musician!—These titles, Figaro, might perhaps merit our indulgence, if”—
Count. “A Lover, a Poet, and a Musician!—These titles, Figaro, might deserve our forgiveness, if—”
Countess. Let me beg, my Lord, you will not deny their request: in the name of that Love you once had for me.
Countess. Please, my Lord, don't refuse their request: in the name of the Love you once had for me.
Count. And have still, Madam.
Count. And still have, Madam.
Figaro. Join with me, my friends.
Figaro. Join me, friends.
Omnes. My Lord.
Everyone. My Lord.
Susan. Why should your Lordship refuse Eulogiums which you merit so well?
Susan. Why would you turn down compliments that you deserve so much?
Count. Oh the Traitress. (Aside) Well, well,—I consent.
Count. Oh, the traitor. (Aside) Alright, fine—I agree.
Figaro. Look at her, my Lord; never could a more beauteous Bride better prove the greatness of the sacrifice you have made.
Figaro. Look at her, my Lord; no bride could ever be more beautiful or better show the significance of the sacrifice you’ve made.
Susan. Oh do not speak of my Beauty, but of his Lordship’s Virtues.
Susan. Oh, please don’t talk about my looks, but about his Lordship’s qualities.
Count. My Virtues!—Yes, yes,—I see they understand each other. (Aside) Who can tell me where is Marcelina?
Count. My virtues!—Yes, yes,—I can see they get each other. (Aside) Who can tell me where Marcelina is?
Agnes. I met her, my Lord, just now, in the close walk by the park wall, along with Doctor Bartholo. She seemed in a passion, and the Doctor tried to pacify her. I heard her mention my Cousin Figaro’s name.
Agnes. I just ran into her, my Lord, in the narrow path by the park wall, with Doctor Bartholo. She looked really upset, and the Doctor was trying to calm her down. I heard her say my Cousin Figaro’s name.
Count. (Aside) No Cousin yet, my dear; and perhaps never may be.
Count. (Aside) No cousin yet, my dear; and maybe never will be.
Agnes. (Pointing to the Page) Have you forgiven what happened yesterday, my Lord?
Agnes. (Pointing to the Page) Have you forgiven what happened yesterday, my Lord?
Count. (Afraid lest the Countess should hear, and chucking Agnes under the chin) Hush!
Count. (Worried that the Countess might hear, and playfully lifting Agnes's chin) Shh!
Figaro. (To the Page) What’s the matter, young Hannibal the brave? What makes you so silent?
Figaro. (To the Page) What's wrong, young Hannibal the brave? Why are you so quiet?
Susan. He is sorrowful because my Lord is going to send him from the castle.
Susan. He is sad because my Lord is going to send him away from the castle.
Omnes. Oh pray, my Lord!
Everyone. Oh please, my Lord!
Countess. Let me beg you will forgive him.
Countess. Please let me ask you to forgive him.
Count. He does not deserve to be forgiven.
Count. He doesn’t deserve to be forgiven.
Countess. Consider, he is so young.
Countess. Just think, he’s so young.
Count. (Half aside) Not so young, perhaps, as you suppose.
Count. (Half aside) Maybe not as young as you think.
Page. My Lord certainly has not ceded away the right to pardon.
Page. My Lord definitely hasn't given up the right to grant pardons.
Susan. And if he had, that would certainly be the first he would secretly endeavour to reclaim. (Looking significantly at the Count and Figaro, by turns.)
Susan. And if he had, that would definitely be the first thing he would quietly try to get back. (Glancing meaningfully at the Count and Figaro, in turn.)
Count. (Understanding her) No doubt: no doubt.
Count. (Understanding her) No doubt about it: no doubt.
Page. My conduct, my Lord, may have been indiscreet, but I can assure your Lordship, that never the least word shall pass my lips——
Page. My behavior, my Lord, might have been inappropriate, but I can promise you, your Lordship, that not a single word will escape my lips——
Count. (Interrupting him) Enough, enough—Since every body begs for him, I must grant—I shall moreover give him a Company in my Regiment.
Count. (Interrupting him) That's enough, enough—Since everyone is asking for him, I guess I have to agree—I’ll also give him a position in my regiment.
Omnes. Thanks noble Count.
Everyone. Thanks, noble Count.
Count. But on condition that he depart immediately for Catalonia to join the Corps.
Count. But only if he leaves right away for Catalonia to join the Corps.
Omnes. Oh my Lord?
Everyone. Oh my God?
Figaro. To-morrow my Lord.
Figaro. Tomorrow, my Lord.
Count. To day! It shall be so. (To the Page) Take leave of your Godmother, and beg her protection.
Count. Today! It will be done. (To the Page) Say goodbye to your Godmother, and ask for her protection.
(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.)
(The Page kneels to the Countess with a sad expression. As he moves to kneel, he goes very slowly, and Figaro gently nudges him forward.)
Fig. Go, go, Child; go.
Fig. 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.
Countess. (With great emotion) Since it’s not possible for you to stay here today, please go, young man, and follow the noble path that awaits you. Don’t forget those with whom you’ve spent some of your earliest years, and among whom you have friends who wish you all the best. Go where Fortune and Glory lead you. Be respectful, kind, and courageous, and know that we will be part of your success. (Raises him.)
Count. You seem agitated Madam.
Count. You seem upset, ma'am.
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.
Countess. How can I not feel this way, thinking about the dangers his youth might face? He’s been raised in the same house as me, shares my family ties, and is also my Godson.
Count. (Aside) Basil I see was in the right.—— (Turns to the Page) Go, kiss Susan for the last time.
Count. (Aside) Basil was totally right.—— (Turns to the Page) Go, give Susan a final kiss.
(The Page and Susan approach, Figaro steps between them and intercepts the Page.)
(The Page and Susan walk up, and Figaro steps in between them to block 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.
Fig. Oh! There's no need for kisses, my Lord: he'll be back in the winter, and in the meantime, he can kiss me. —We need to change the scene, my delicate Youth: you can't keep running up and down into the women's rooms, playing Hunt-the-slipper, stealing cream, sucking oranges, and living off sweets. Instead, good grief! You need to look tough! Tan your face! Take care of your musket! Turn right! Wheel left! And march towards glory. —Unless, of course, you're stopped short by a bullet.
Susan. Fie, Figaro.
Susan. Ugh, Figaro.
Countess. (Terrified.) What a Prophecy!
Countess. (Terrified.) What a Prediction!
Fig. Were I a Soldier I would make some of them scamper—But, come, come, my friends; let us prepare our feast against the evening. Marcelina I hear intends to disturb our Diversions.
Fig. If I were a soldier, I'd make some of them run off—but, come on, my friends; let's get ready for our feast this evening. I heard Marcelina plans to interrupt our fun.
Count. That she will I can assure you. (Aside) I must go and send for her. (going.)
Count. I can promise you that she will. (Aside) I need to go and call for her. (going.)
Countess. You will not leave us, my Lord?
Countess. You're not leaving us, are you, my Lord?
Count. I am undrest, you see.
Count. I am distressed, you see.
Countess. We shall see nobody but our own servants.
Countess. We’ll only see our own staff.
Count. I must do what you please. Wait for me in the study, Basil.
Count. I have to do what you ask. Please wait for me in the study, Basil.
(Exeunt Count, Countess, and Vassals.
( Exit Count, Countess, and Vassals. )
Manent Figaro, Basil and Page.
Figaro, Basil, and Page.
Fig. (Retains the Page) Come, come; let us study our parts well for the Play in the evening: and do not let us resemble those Actors who never play so ill as on the first night of a Piece; when Criticism is most watchful to detect Errors, and when they ought to play the best—“We shall not have an opportunity of playing better to-morrow.”
Fig. (Retains the Page) Come on, let’s make sure to rehearse our roles well for the performance tonight. We shouldn't be like those actors who always perform the worst on opening night when critics are most eager to catch mistakes and when they should be at their best—"We won't have another chance to do better tomorrow."
Basil. My part is more difficult than you imagine.
Basil. My role is more challenging than you think.
Figaro. And you may be rewarded for it, in a manner you little expect. [Aside.
Figaro. And you might be surprised by the reward you receive for it. [Aside.
Page. You forget, Figaro, that I am going.
Page. You forget, Figaro, that I'm leaving.
Figaro. And you wish to stay? (In the same sorrowful tone.)
Figaro. So, you want to stay? (In the same sad tone.)
Page. (Sighs.) Ah yes.
Page. (Sighs.) Ah yes.
Figaro. Follow my advice, and so thou shalt.
Figaro. Follow my advice, and you will.
Page. How, how?
Page. How, how?
Page. And who shall teach Agnes her part, then?
Page. So, who’s going to teach Agnes her role, then?
Figaro. Oh oh!
Figaro. Oh no!
Basil. Why, what the devil have you been about, young Gentleman, for these eight days past, during which you have hardly ever left her? Take care, Hannibal, take care, or your Scholar will give her Tutor a bad character.—Ah Hannibal! Hannibal! The Pitcher that goes often to the Well—
Basil. What on earth have you been up to, young man, for the last eight days, during which you've hardly left her side? Be careful, Hannibal, or your student might tarnish her tutor's reputation. —Ah Hannibal! Hannibal! The pitcher that goes to the well too often—
Figaro. Listen to the Pedant and his Proverb.—Well, and what says the wisdom of Nations—The pitcher that goes often to the well—
Figaro. Listen to the know-it-all and his saying.—So, what does the wisdom of the world say—The pitcher that goes to the well too often—
Basil. Stands a chance, sometime, to return full.
Basil. Has a chance to come back fully someday.
Figaro. Not so foolish as I thought.
Figaro. Not as foolish as I assumed.
End of ACT I.
End of Act I.
SCENE, the COUNTESS’s Bed-Chamber.
COUNTESS's Bedroom.
(A state-bed in the back ground under an Alcove: three doors; one the entrance into the room, another into Susan’s room, and the third to the Countess’s dressing-room; a large window that opens to the street.)
(A state bed in the background under an alcove: three doors; one is the entrance to the room, another leads to Susan’s room, and the third goes to the Countess’s dressing room; a large window opens to the street.)
The COUNTESS seated, SUSAN waiting.
The COUNTESS seated, SUSAN waiting.
Countess.
Countess.
Shut the door—And so the Page was hid behind the great chair?
Shut the door—So the Page was hidden behind the big chair?
Susan. Yes, Madam.
Susan. Yes, ma'am.
Countess. But how did he happen to be in your room, Susan?
Countess. But how did he end up in your room, Susan?
Susan. The poor Boy came to beg I would prevail on you to obtain his pardon of my Lord the Count.
Susan. The poor guy came to ask me to convince you to get my Lord the Count to forgive him.
Countess. But why did not he come to me himself? I should not have refused him a favor of that kind.
Countess. But why didn’t he come to me himself? I wouldn’t have refused him a favor like that.
Susan. Bashfulness, Madam. Ah Susan! said he, she is a Divinity! How noble is her Manner! Her very smiles are awful.
Susan. Shyness, Ma'am. Oh Susan! he said, she is a goddess! How graceful is her demeanor! Even her smiles are intimidating.
Countess. (Smiling) Is that true, Susan?
Countess. (Smiling) Is that real, Susan?
Susan. Can you doubt it, Madam?
Susan. Can you really doubt it, Madam?
Countess. I have always afforded him my protection.
Countess. I've always given him my protection.
Susan. Had you, Madam, but seen him snatch the ribband from me!
Susan. If you had only seen him grab the ribbon from me!
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.
Susan. Oh, no, really, Madam, he doesn't bother trying to seduce me; he’s trying to buy my affections instead. And because I’m not interested, he will definitely block my marriage to Figaro and back Marcelina’s claims.
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.
Countess. Don't worry—We might need a little cleverness for this; having Figaro's help could be useful.
Susan. He will be here, Madam, as soon as my Lord is gone a coursing.
Susan. He'll be here, ma'am, as soon as my lord goes hunting.
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.
Countess. Your Lord is such an ungrateful man, Susan!—An ungrateful man! (The Countess paces the room, visibly emotional) Open the window; I can't breathe in here—All his vows, promises, and affection are forgotten—My love annoys him, my affection repulses him—He thinks all his betrayals should be forgiven, yet my behavior must be perfect.
Susan (At the window looking into the street). Yonder goes my Lord with all his Grooms and Greyhounds.
Susan (At the window looking into the street). Look, there 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.
Countess. To entertain himself by hunting a poor, timid, harmless hare to death—This, however, will buy us some time—Somebody's knocking, Susan.
Susan. “For Figaro’s the lad, is the lad for me.”
Susan. "Figaro is the one; he's the one for me."
(Goes singing to the Door.)
(Sings while going to the door.)
Enter FIGARO.
Enter FIGARO.
(He kisses Susan’s hand, she makes signs to him to be more prudent, and points to the Countess.)
(He kisses Susan's hand, and she gestures for him to be more careful, pointing to the Countess.)
Countess. Well, Figaro, you have heard of my Lord the Count’s designs on your young Bride.
Countess. Well, Figaro, you’ve heard about my husband the Count's intentions toward your young bride.
Figaro. Oh yes, my Lady. There was nothing very surprising in the news. My Lord sees a sweet, young, lovely—Angel! (Susan curtsies) and wishes to have her for himself. Can any thing be more natural? I wish the very same—
Figaro. Oh yes, my Lady. There was nothing surprising about the news. My Lord sees a sweet, young, lovely—Angel! (Susan curtsies) and wants her for himself. Can anything be more natural? I wish the same—
Countess. I don’t find it so very pleasant, Figaro.
Countess. I don't think it's very nice, Figaro.
Figaro. He endeavours to overturn the schemes of those who oppose his wishes; and in this he only follows the example of the rest of the world. I endeavour to do the very same.
Figaro. He tries to disrupt the plans of those who go against what he wants; and in this, he’s just following what everyone else does. I’m trying to do the exact same thing.
Susan. But with less probability of success, Figaro.
Susan. But with lower chances of success, Figaro.
Figaro. Follow my advice, and I’ll convince you of your mistake.
Figaro. Listen to me, and I’ll show you why you’re wrong.
Countess. Let me hear.
Countess. Let me listen.
Figaro. You, my lovely Susan, must appoint the Count to meet him, as he proposed, this evening, by the Pavilion in the Garden.
Figaro. You, my beautiful Susan, need to set up a meeting with the Count for tonight, as he suggested, by the Pavilion in the Garden.
Countess. How! Figaro! Can you consent?
Countess. Wow! Figaro! Will you agree?
Figaro. And why not, Madam?
Figaro. And why not, Ma'am?
Susan. But if you can, sir, do you think I—
Susan. But if you can, sir, do you think I—
Figaro. Nay, my Charmer, do not imagine I would wish thee to grant him any thing thou wishest to refuse—But first we must dress up the Page in your cloaths, my dear Susan—, he is to be your Representative.
Figaro. No, my dear, don't think I want you to give him anything you want to keep for yourself—But first, we need to dress the Page in your clothes, my sweet Susan—he's going to be your stand-in.
Countess. The Page!
Countess. The Intern!
Susan. He is gone.
Susan. He’s gone.
Figaro. Is he?—Perhaps so. But a whistle from me will bring him back. (The Countess seems pleased.)
Figaro. Is he?—Maybe. But if I whistle, he'll come back. (The Countess looks happy.)
Susan. So! Now Figaro’s happy!—Plots and Contrivances—
Susan. So! Now Figaro is happy!—Schemes and tricks—
Figaro. Two! Three! Four at a time! Embarrass’d! Involv’d! Perplex’d!—Leave me to unravel them. I was born to thrive in Courts.
Figaro. Two! Three! Four at a time! Embarrassed! Caught up! Confused!—Let me figure them out. I was meant to succeed in courts.
Susan. I have heard the Trade of a Courtier is not so difficult as some pretend.
Susan. I've heard that being a courtier isn't as hard as some people make it out to be.
Figaro. Ask for every thing that falls, seize every thing in your power, and accept every thing that’s offered—There is the whole art and mystery in three words.
Figaro. Ask for everything that falls, grab anything you can, and accept everything that's offered—That's the entire art and mystery in just three words.
Countess. Well, but the Count, Figaro?
Countess. Well, what about the Count, Figaro?
Figaro. Permit me, Madam, to manage him—And first, the better to secure my property, I shall begin by making him dread the loss of his own.—“Oh, what pleasure shall I have in cutting out Employment for him during the whole day!—To see him waste that time in jealously-watching your conduct, Madam, which he meant to employ in amorous dalliance with my sweet Bride—To behold him running here and there and he does not know where, and hunting a monstrous Shadow, which he dreads to find, yet longs to grasp.”
Figaro. Allow me, Madam, to take charge of him—And first, to better protect my interests, I will start by making him fear losing his own—“Oh, how enjoyable it will be to keep him occupied all day!—To see him squander that time obsessively watching your every move, Madam, time he could have spent flirting with my beautiful Bride—To watch him dash around aimlessly, pursuing a massive Shadow he’s too scared to face, yet still wants to catch.”
Countess. Surely, Figaro, you are out of your wits.
Countess. Surely, Figaro, you’ve lost your mind.
Figaro. Pardon, my dear Lady, but it is your good Lord who will soon be out of his wits.
Figaro. Sorry, my dear Lady, but your good Lord is about to lose his mind.
Countess. But as you know him to be so jealous, how will you dare?—
Countess. But since you know he's so jealous, how will you even dare?—
Figaro. Oh, Madam! Were he not jealous, my scheme would not be worth a doit: but it will now serve a double purpose—The Jewel which Possession has made him neglect, will again become valuable, if once he can be brought to dread its loss.
Figaro. Oh, Madam! If he weren't jealous, my plan wouldn't be worth anything: but now it will serve two purposes—the jewel that he has ignored because he owns it will become valuable again if I can make him fear losing it.
Countess. To confess the truth, Figaro, your project exactly corresponds with the one I meant to practise—An anonymous Letter must be sent, informing him, that a Gallant, meaning to profit by his neglect—
Countess. To be honest, Figaro, your plan is exactly what I intended to do—An anonymous letter needs to be sent, letting him know that a suitor is looking to take advantage of his neglect—
Figaro. And absence—is at present with his beauteous Countess——The thing is already done, Madam.
Figaro. And right now, he’s with his beautiful Countess—It's already taken care of, Madam.
Countess. How!—Have you dared to trifle thus with a Woman of Honor?
Countess. What!—Have you seriously messed with a Woman of Honor like this?
Figaro. Oh, Madam, it is only with a Woman of Honor I should presume to take a liberty like this; least my Joke should happen to prove a Reality.
Figaro. Oh, Madam, I would only dare to do something like this with a woman of honor; otherwise, my joke might end up being true.
Countess (Smiles). You don’t want an agreeable excuse, Figaro.
Countess (Smiles). You don't need a convenient excuse, Figaro.
Figaro. The hour of performing the marriage Ceremony will arrive post haste—he will be disconcerted, and having no good excuse ready, will never venture in your presence, Madam, to oppose our union.
Figaro. The time for the wedding ceremony will come quickly—he will be caught off guard, and without a solid excuse prepared, he will never dare to oppose our union in front of you, Madam.
Susan. But if he will not, Marcelina will; and thou wilt be condemned to pay—
Susan. But if he won't, Marcelina will; and you’ll be stuck with the bill—
Figaro. Poh! Thou hast forgot the Count is our Judge!—And, after being entrapp’d at the rendezvous, will he condemn us, thinkest thou?—But come, come, we must be quick—I’ll send the Page hither to be dress’d—We must not lose a moment.
Figaro. Oh! You’ve forgotten that the Count is our Judge!—And do you really think he’ll condemn us after getting caught at the meeting?—But come on, we need to hurry—I’ll send the Page over to get ready—We can’t waste any time.
(Exit Figaro.
(Exit Figaro.
Countess (Examining her head dress in a pocket looking-glass). What a hideous cap this is, Susan; its quite awry—This Youth who is coming—
Countess (Checking her headpiece in a pocket mirror). What an ugly cap this is, Susan; it's totally crooked—This young man who is coming—
Susan. Ah, Madam! Your Beauty needs not the addition of Art in his eyes.
Susan. Oh, Madam! Your beauty doesn’t need any enhancement in his eyes.
Countess. And my hair too—I assure you, Susan, I shall be very severe with him.
Countess. And my hair too—I promise you, Susan, I will be very strict with him.
Susan (Smoothing the Countess’s hair). Let me spread this Curl a little, Madam—Oh, pray Madam, make him sing the song he has written.
Susan (Smoothing the Countess’s hair). Let me just spread this curl a bit, Madam—Oh, please, Madam, have him sing the song he's written.
(Susan throws the song into the Countess’s lap, which the Page had given her.)
(Susan tosses the song into the Countess’s lap, which the Page had given her.)
Countess. I shall tell him of all the complaints I hear against him.
Countess. I’m going to tell him about all the complaints I hear about him.
Susan. Oh Yes Madam; I can see you will scold him, heartily.
Susan. Oh yes, madam; I can tell you’re going to really give him a piece of your mind.
Countess (Seriously). What do you say, Susan?
Countess (Seriously). What do you think, Susan?
Susan (Goes to the door). Come; come in Mr. Soldier.
Susan (Goes to the door). Come on in, Mr. Soldier.
Enter PAGE.
Go to PAGE.
(Susan pretends to threaten him by signs.)
(Susan pretends to threaten him with gestures.)
Page. Um—(Pouts aside.)
Page. Um—(Pouts aside.)
Countess. Well, young gentleman, (With assumed severity)—How innocent he looks, Susan! (Aside to Susan).
Countess. Well, young man, (With a serious tone)—He looks so innocent, doesn’t he, Susan? (Aside to Susan).
Susan. And how bashful, Madam!
Susan. And how shy, Madam!
Countess (Resuming her serious air). Have you reflected on the duties of your new Profession?
Countess (Putting on a serious expression). Have you thought about the responsibilities of your new profession?
(The Page imagines the Countess is angry, and timidly draws back.)
(The Page thinks the Countess is upset and cautiously steps back.)
Susan (Aside to the Page). Ay, ay, young Rake, I’ll tell all I know.—(Returns to the Countess). Observe his downcast eyes, Madam, and long eye-lashes.—(Aside to the Page) Yes, Hypocrite, I’ll tell.
Susan (Aside to the Page). Yeah, yeah, young Rake, I’ll spill everything I know.—(Returns to the Countess). Look at his lowered eyes, Madam, and those long eyelashes.—(Aside to the Page) Yes, Hypocrite, I’ll tell.
Countess (Seeing the Page more and more fearful). Nay, Hannibal—don’t—be terrified—I—Come nearer.
Countess (Seeing the Page more and more fearful). No, Hannibal—don’t—be scared—I—Come closer.
Susan (Pushing him towards the Countess). Advance, Modesty.
Susan (Pushing him towards the Countess). Step forward, Modesty.
Countess. Poor Youth, he is quite affected—I am not angry with you; I was only going to speak to you on the duties of a Soldier—Why do you seem so sorrowful?
Countess. Poor Young Man, he's really troubled—I'm not mad at you; I just wanted to talk to you about the responsibilities of a Soldier—Why do you look so sad?
Page. Alas, Madam, I may well be sorrowful! Being, as I am, obliged to leave a Lady so gentle and so kind——
Page. Oh no, Madam, I’m truly saddened! I have to leave a lady who is so gentle and kind—
Susan. And so beautiful—(In the same tone and half aside.)
Susan. And so beautiful—(In the same tone and half aside.)
Page. Ah, yes! (Sighs).
Page. Ah, yes! (Sighs).
Susan (Mimicking). Ah, yes!—Come, come, let me try on one of my Gowns upon you—Come here—Let us measure—I declare the little Villain is not so tall as I am.
Susan (Mimicking). Ah, yes!—Come on, let me try one of my dresses on you—Come over here—Let's measure—I swear the little troublemaker is not as tall as I am.
Page. Um—(Pouts.)
Page. Um—(Pouts.)
Susan. Turn about—Let me untie your cloak.
Susan. Turn around—Let me take off your cloak.
(Susan takes off the Page’s cloak.)
(Susan takes off the Page's cloak.)
Countess. But suppose somebody should come?
Countess. But what if someone arrives?
Susan. Dear, my Lady, we are not doing any harm—I’ll lock the door, however, for fear—(The Page casts a glance or two at the Countess, Susan returns) Well! Have you nothing to say to my beauteous Lady, and your charming God-mother?
Susan. Dear lady, we're not causing any trouble—I’ll lock the door anyway, just to be safe—(The Page glances a couple of times at the Countess, Susan comes back) So! Don't you have anything to say to my beautiful lady and your lovely Godmother?
Page (Sighs). Oh, yes! That I am sure I shall love her as long as I live!
Page (Sighs). Oh, yes! I know for sure that I will love her for as long as I live!
Countess. Esteem, you mean, Hannibal.
Countess. You mean respect, Hannibal.
Page. Ye—ye—yes—Es—teem! I should have said.
Page. Yes—yes—yes—Esteem! I should have said.
Susan (Laughs). Yes, yes, Esteem! The poor Youth overflows with Es—teem and Aff—ection—and—
Susan (Laughs). Yes, yes, Esteem! The poor guy is overflowing with esteem and affection—and—
Page. Um! (Aside to Susan).
Page. Um! (To Susan).
Susan. Nia, nia, nia, (Mocking the Page).—Dear Madam, do make him sing those good-for-nothing Verses.
Susan. Nia, nia, nia, (Mocking the Page).—Dear Madam, please get him to sing those useless Verses.
Countess. (Takes the verses Susan gave her, from her pocket) Pray who wrote them?
Countess. (Takes the verses Susan gave her, from her pocket) Who wrote these?
Susan (Pointing to the Page). Look, Madam, look! His sins rise in his face—Nobody but an Author could look so silly—
Susan (Pointing to the Page). Look, Madam, look! His sins show on his face—Nobody but an Author could look this foolish—
Countess. Come, Hannibal, sing.
Countess. Come on, Hannibal, sing.
Susan. Ah, the bashful Scribbler!
Susan. Ah, the shy writer!
SONG.
Track.
(During the song the Countess is evidently affected by the Passion with which the Page sings.
(During the song, the Countess is clearly moved by the Passion with which the Page sings.)
Susan. Now let us try whether one of my Caps—
Susan. Now let's see if one of my Caps—
Countess. There is one of mine lies on my dressing-table. (Exit Susan to the dressing room of the Countess.)—Is your Commission made out?
Countess. One of my things is on my dressing table. (Exit Susan to the dressing room of the Countess.)—Is your commission ready?
Page. Oh yes, Madam, and given me; Here it is.
Page. Oh yes, ma'am, and it's been given to me; here it is.
(Presents his commission to the Countess.)
(Gives his commission to the Countess.)
Countess. Already? They have made haste I see! They are not willing to lose a moment—Their hurry has made them even forget to affix the Seal.
Countess. Already? They've rushed over, I see! They aren't willing to waste a single moment—Their hurry has even made them forget to put on the Seal.
Susan. (Returns) The Seal! To what, Madam?
Susan. (Returns) The Seal! To what, ma'am?
Countess. His Commission.
Countess. His Commission.
Susan. So soon!
Susan. Already?
Countess. I was observing, there has been no time lost.
Countess. I noticed that no time has been wasted.
(Returns the Page his Commission; he sticks it in his girdle.)
(He returns the Page his Commission; he tucks it into his waistband.)
Susan. Come—(Makes the Page kneel down, and puts him on the cap) What a pretty little Villain it is! I declare I am jealous: see if he is not handsomer than I am! Turn about—There—What’s here?—The riband!—So, so, so! Now all is out! I’m glad of it—I told my young Gentleman I would let you know his thievish tricks, Madam.
Susan. Come—(Makes the Page kneel down, and puts him on the cap) What a cute little troublemaker he is! I can’t help but feel jealous: isn’t he cuter than I am? Switch places—There—What’s this?—The ribbon!—Ah, I see! Now everything’s revealed! I’m glad about that—I told my young gentleman I’d let you know about his sneaky tricks, ma’am.
Countess. Fetch me some black patches Susan.
Countess. Get me some black patches, Susan.
(Exit Susan to her own chamber.
(Susan exits to her own room.
The Countess and the Page remain mute for a considerable time during which the Page looks at the Countess with great passion, though with the bashful side glances natural to his character—The Countess pretends not to observe him, and visibly makes several efforts to overcome her own feelings.)
The Countess and the Page sit in silence for a long time while the Page gazes at the Countess with intense emotion, although he occasionally steals shy glances typical of his personality. The Countess acts as if she doesn't notice him and clearly struggles to manage her own feelings.
Countess. And—and—so—you—you are sorry—to leave us?
Countess. So, you’re sorry to leave us?
Page. Ye—yes—Madam.
Page. Yes, ma'am.
Page. (Unable to contain himself any longer) N-o-o-o indee-ee-eed, Madam, I-I-am o-on-only-gri-ieved to part from-so dear a-La-a-ady.
Page. (Unable to contain himself any longer) No-o-o, indeed, Madam, I-I am just s-so grieved to be leaving such a dear lady.
Countess. (Takes out her handkerchief and wipes his eyes) Nay, but don’t weep, don’t weep—Come, come, be comforted. (A knocking is heard at the Countess’s chamber door) Who’s there? (In an authoritative tone.)
Countess. (Takes out her handkerchief and wipes his eyes) No, please don’t cry, don’t cry—Come on, be comforted. (A knocking is heard at the Countess’s chamber door) Who's there? (In an authoritative tone.)
The Count speaks without.
The Count speaks out.
Count. Open the door, my Lady.
Count. Open the door, my lady.
Countess. Heavens! It is the Count!—I am ruined!—If he finds the Page here after receiving Figaro’s anonymous Letter I shall be for ever lost!—What imprudence!
Countess. Oh no! It’s the Count! — I’m doomed! — If he finds the Page here after getting Figaro’s anonymous letter, I’ll be completely finished! — What a mistake!
Count. (Without) Why don’t you open the door?
Count. (Without) Why don’t you just open the door?
Countess. Because——I’m alone.
Countess. Because I'm lonely.
Count. Alone! Who are you talking to then!
Count. Alone! Who are you talking to now!
Countess. To you, to be sure—How could I be so thoughtless—This villainous Figaro.
Countess. Of course, it’s my fault—How could I be so careless—This deceitful Figaro.
Page. After the scene of the great chair this morning he will certainly murder me if he finds me here.
Page. After what happened with the big chair this morning, he will definitely kill me if he sees me here.
Countess. Run into my dressing-room and lock the door on the inside. (the Countess opens the door to the Count.)
Countess. Hurry into my dressing room and lock the door from the inside. (the Countess opens the door to the Count.)
Enter the COUNT.
Enter the count.
Count. You did not use to lock yourself in, when you were alone, Madam! Who were you speaking to?
Count. You didn’t used to lock yourself in when you were alone, Madam! Who were you talking to?
Countess. (Endeavouring to conceal her agitation) To—To Susan, who is rumaging in her own room.
Countess. (Trying to hide her nerves) To—To Susan, who is searching in her own room.
Count. But you seem agitated, Madam.
Count. But you seem upset, Madam.
Countess. That is not impossible (affecting to take a serious air) We were speaking of you.
Countess. That's not impossible (pretending to be serious) We were talking about you.
Count. Of me!
Count me in!
Countess. Your jealousy, your indifference, my Lord.
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.
Count. “I can’t say it’s out of indifference, my Lady, and when it comes to jealousy, you know better than anyone if I have a reason.
Countess. “My Lord!
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—
Count. “To put it simply, my Lady, there are people in the world who are nasty enough to want to disrupt either your peace or mine. I’ve been privately informed that a certain thing called a Lover—
Countess. “Lover!
Countess. “Babe!
Count. “Ay, or Gallant, or any other title you like best, meant to take advantage of my absence, and introduce himself into the Castle.
Count. “Yeah, or Gallant, or whatever title you prefer, meant to take advantage of my absence and make his way 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.
Countess. “If anyone were bold enough to try that, they’d be out of luck in finding me; I’m not leaving my room today."
Count. “What, not to the Wedding?
Count. “What, not to the wedding?"
Countess. “I am indisposed.
Countess. "I'm not feeling well."
Count. “Its lucky then that the Doctor is here.”
Count. "It's lucky that the Doctor is here."
(The Page oversets a table in the Countess’s dressing-room.)
(The page sets a table in the Countess’s dressing room.)
Countess. (Terrified.) What will become of me? (Aside.)
Countess. (Panicked.) What’s going to happen to me? (Aside.)
Count. What noise is that?
Count. What’s that noise?
Countess. I heard no noise.
Countess. I didn't hear anything.
Count. No? You must be most confoundedly absent, then.
Count. No? You must be really out of it, then.
Countess. (Affecting to return his irony) Oh, to be sure.
Countess. (Trying to match his sarcasm) Oh, definitely.
Count. But there is somebody in your dressing-room, Madam.
Count. But there’s someone in your dressing room, ma'am.
Countess. Who should there be?
Countess. Who else is here?
Count. That’s what I want to know.
Count. That's what I want to know.
Countess. It is Susan, I suppose, putting the chairs and tables to rights.
Countess. I assume it's Susan rearranging the chairs and tables.
Count. What! Your favourite woman turned house-maid! You told me just now she was in her own room.
Count. What! Your favorite woman is now a housemaid! You just told me she was in her own room.
Countess. In her room, or my room, it is all one.
Countess. In her room, or my room, it’s all the same.
Count. Really, my Lady, this Susan of yours is a very nimble, convenient kind of person.
Count. Honestly, my Lady, this Susan of yours is a very quick and handy person.
Countess. Really, my Lord, this Susan of mine disturbs your quiet very much.
Countess. Honestly, my Lord, this Susan of mine is really interrupting your peace a lot.
Count. Very true, my Lady, so much that I am determined to see her.
Count. That's absolutely true, my Lady, to the extent that I'm set on seeing her.
Countess. These suspicions are very much to your credit, my Lord.
Countess. These doubts really speak highly of you, 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!
Count. If those aren’t a bad reflection on you, my Lady, it’s pretty simple to get rid of them—But I see you’re just playing with me (he walks to the Countess’s dressing-room door and calls) Susan! Susan! If you’re Susan, come out!
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.
Countess. Alright, my Lord! Alright! Would you have the girl come out half dressed? She’s trying on one of my old dresses—Disturbing a woman’s privacy like this, my Lord, is definitely quite unusual.
(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.)
(While this argument heats up, Susan comes out of her room, notices what's happening, and after listening long enough to decide what to do, quietly slips behind the bed curtains in the Alcove, unnoticed by either of them.)
Count. Well, if she can’t come out, she can answer at least. (Calls) Susan!—Answer me, Susan.
Count. Well, if she can't come out, she can at least respond. (Calls) Susan!—Please answer me, Susan.
Countess. I say, do not answer, Susan! I forbid you to speak a word!—We shall see who she’ll obey.
Countess. I'm telling you, don't respond, Susan! I order you not to say a word!—We'll find out who she'll listen to.
Count. But if you are so innocent, Madam, what is the reason of that emotion and perplexity so very evident in your countenance?
Count. But if you're so innocent, ma'am, what’s the reason for that emotion and confusion that’s so clear on your face?
Countess. (Affecting to laugh) Emotion and perplexity! Ha! ha! ha! Ridiculous!
Countess. (Trying to laugh) Feelings and confusion! Ha! ha! ha! So silly!
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?
Count. Well, Madam, no matter how ridiculous it seems, I’m set on being satisfied, and I believe that what I see right now is a good excuse. (Goes to the side of the Scenes and calls) Hey! Who’s over there?
Countess. Do, do, my Lord! Expose your jealousy to your very servants! Make yourself and me the jest of the whole world.
Countess. Go on, my Lord! Show your jealousy to your own servants! Turn both yourself and me into the joke 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?
Count. Why are you making me do this?—Anyway, Madam, since you won't let me open that door, could you please come with me while I get a tool to force it open?
Countess. To be sure, my Lord! To be sure! If you please.
Countess. Of course, my Lord! Absolutely! If you’d like.
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.
Count. And to make sure you’re completely justified, I’ll lock this other door (Goes to Susan’s chamber door, locks it, and takes the key.) As for the Susan in the dressing room, she’ll have to be patient until I get back.
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.)
Countess. This behavior really reflects well on you, my Lord! (This speech is heard as they are going through the door, which the Count locks after him.)
(Exeunt)
(Leave)
Enter SUSAN, peeping as they go off, then runs to the dressing-room door and calls.
Enter SUSAN, peeking as they leave, then runs to the dressing-room door and calls.
Susan. Hannibal!—Hannibal!—Open the door! Quick! Quick!—It’s I, Susan.
Susan. Hannibal!—Hannibal!—Open the door! Quick! Quick!—It’s me, Susan.
Enter PAGE, frightened.
Enter PAGE, scared.
Page. Oh Susan!
Page. Oh, Susan!
Susan. Oh my poor Mistress!
Susan. Oh my poor Boss!
Page. What will become of her?
Page. What will happen to her?
Susan. What will become of my marriage?
Susan. What will happen to my marriage?
Page. What will become of me?
Page. What will happen to me?
Susan. Don’t stand babbling here, but fly.
Susan. Don’t just stand here talking, get going.
Page. The doors are all fast, how can I fly?
Page. All the doors are locked; how can I escape?
Susan. Don’t ask me! Fly!
Susan. Don’t ask me! Go!
Page. Here’s a window open (runs to the window) Underneath is a bed of flowers; I’ll leap out.
Page. Here’s a window open (runs to the window) Below is a bed of flowers; I’ll jump out.
Susan. (Screams) You’ll break your neck!
Susan. (Screams) You’ll hurt yourself!
Page. Better that than ruin my dear Lady—Give me one kiss Susan.
Page. That's better than ruining my dear lady—Give me a 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.)
Susan. Has anyone ever seen a young man like that—(Page kisses her, then runs and leaps out of the window, and Susan gasps in shock seeing him) Ah! (Susan collapses into a chair, overwhelmed with fear—Finally she gathers her courage, stands up, and tentatively approaches the window. After looking out, she turns back with her hand on her heart, sighing in relief and smiling with sudden ease and happiness.) He’s safe! There he goes!—As light and as fast as the wind!—If that boy doesn’t make some woman’s heart ache, I’m wrong. (Susan walks towards the dressing-room door, enters, and glances out as she’s about to close it.) And now, my dear jealous Count, maybe I can show you how to break down doors next 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.
Enter COUNT, holding a wrench in one hand and leading the COUNTESS with the other. He goes and checks the doors.
Count. Every thing is as I left it. We now shall come to an eclaircissement.
Count. Everything is exactly as I left it. Now we will reach a clarification.
Countess. But, my Lord!—He’ll murder him! (Aside.)
Countess. But, my Lord!—He’s going to kill 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.
Count. Now we’ll find out—Do you still insist on making me break down this door?—I’m set on seeing who’s inside.
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.
Countess. Please, my Lord, I ask for just a moment of your patience!—If you hear me out, you'll satisfy your curiosity!—I implore you to understand that, despite how things may look, I never meant to harm your honor.
Count. Then there is a man?
Count. Is there a man?
Countess. No—none of whom you can reasonably entertain the least suspicion.
Countess. No—none of them whom you could reasonably suspect at all.
Count. How?
Count. How do I do it?
Countess. A jest!—A meer innocent, harmless frolic, for our evening’s diversion! Nothing more, upon my Honor!—On my soul!
Countess. A joke! Just a simple, innocent, harmless prank for our evening fun! Nothing more, I promise!—I swear!
Count. But who—who is it?
Count. But who—who is that?
Countess. A Child!
Countess. A Kid!
Count. Let us see your child!—What child?
Count. Show me your kid!—What kid?
Countess. Hannibal.
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.)
Count. The Page! (Turns away) This annoying Page again?—So this is the Letter!—so my suspicions are finally confirmed!—I'm no longer surprised, Madam, by your feelings for your charming Godson this morning!—Everything is revealed!—Come out, Viper! (In great wrath.)
Countess. (Terrified and trembling) Do not let the Disorder in which you will see him——
Countess. (Terrified and trembling) Don't let the chaos you're about to see him in——
Count. The Disorder!—The Disorder!
Count. The Chaos!—The Chaos!
Countess. We were going to dress him in women’s cloaths for our evening’s diversion—
Countess. We were planning to dress him in women's clothes for our evening's entertainment—
Count. I’ll stab him!—I’ll!—“And this is your indisposition!—This is why you would keep[40] 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!
Count. I’m going to stab him!—I will!—"And this is your excuse! This is why you want to stay in your room all day! Deceitful, worthless woman! You'll stay in there longer than you realize."—I’ll make him a horrifying example of a wronged husband’s anger!
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!
Countess. (Dropping to her knees between the Count and the door) Wait, my Lord, wait! Or let your anger fall on me!—I am the only one at fault! If there's any fault—Have mercy on his youth! His childhood!
Count. What! Intercede for him!—On your knees!—And to me! There wanted but this!—I’ll rack him!—Rise!—I’ll (Furiously.)
Count. What! You want me to plead for him?—Get on your knees!—And to me! This is the last thing I needed!—I’ll make him pay!—Get up!—I’ll (Furiously.)
Countess. Promise me to spare his life!
Countess. Promise me you'll save his life!
Count. Rise!
Count. Get up!
(The Countess rises terrified, and sinks into an arm chair ready to faint.
(The Countess stands up, terrified, and collapses into an armchair, about to faint.)
Countess. He’ll murder him!
Countess. He'll kill 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.)
Count. Step forward, I tell you, one more time; or I’ll pull—(While the Count is speaking, Susan unlocks the door and rushes out to confront him.)
Susan. I’ll stab him!—I’ll rack him!
Susan. I'll stab him!—I'll hurt 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.)
(The Countess, upon hearing Susan’s voice, regains enough composure to look around—She is shocked, tries to gather herself, and turns back to her previous position to hide 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. (After standing still for a while, first looking at Susan and then at the Countess) Here's a school for young ladies!—And can you pretend to be shocked too, Madam? (Noticing the Countess, who can't completely hide her surprise.)
Countess. Attempting to speak) I—My Lord—
Countess. Trying 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.
Count. (Pulling himself together.) But, maybe, she wasn’t by herself. (Enters the dressing-room, Countess looking worried again, Susan rushes to the Countess.
Susan. Fear nothing—He is not there—He has jumped out of the window.
Susan. Don’t be afraid—He’s not here—He jumped out of the window.
Countess. And broke his neck! (Her terror returns.)
Countess. And he 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!
Susan. Quiet! (Susan sits up straight next to her Lady, trying to hide her new mess from the Count.) Ahem! Ahem!
Re-enter COUNT, (greatly abashed)
Re-enter COUNT, (very embarrassed)
Count. Nobody there!—I have been to blame—(approaching the Countess.) Madam!—
Count. No one is here!—I have messed up—(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.)
(With great humility, as if about to ask for her forgiveness, but the confusion still evident on her face brings back memories of everything that just happened, and he suddenly exclaims.)
Upon my soul, Madam, you are a most excellent Actress!
Upon my word, ma'am, you are a fantastic actress!
Susan. And am not I too, my Lord?
Susan. Am I not too, my Lord?
Count. You see my Confusion, Madam—be generous.
Count. You can see I'm confused, ma'am—please be kind.
Susan. As you have been.
Susan. Just like you always are.
Count. Hush!—(Makes signs to Susan to take his part.) My dear Rosina——
Count. Quiet!—(Makes signs to Susan to back him up.) 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.
Countess. No, my Lord! I’m no longer that Rosina you once loved with such passion! I am now just the poor Countess of Almaviva! A neglected wife, not a cherished 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?
Count. No, please don’t make my embarrassment too intense—(His suspicions begin to emerge again.) But, my Lady, why have you been so secretive this time?
Countess. That I might not betray that headlong thoughtless Figaro.
Countess. I hope I won't let that impulsive, careless Figaro down.
Count. What! He wrote the anonymous billet then?
Count. What! He wrote the anonymous note then?
Countess. It was without my knowledge, my Lord.
Countess. I didn't know about it, my Lord.
Count. But you were afterwards informed of it?
Count. But you were told about it later, right?
Countess. Certainly.
Countess. Of course.
Count. Who did he give it to?
Count. Who did he give it to?
Countess. Basil—
Countess. Basil—
Count. Who sent it me by a Peasant—Indeed, Mr. Basil.—Yes, vile Thrummer, thou shalt pay for all!
Count. Who sent it to me through a peasant—Really, Mr. Basil.—Yes, despicable Thrummer, you will pay for everything!
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.
Countess. But where's the fairness in denying that pardon to others when we need it just as much? If I could ever be convinced to forgive, it would only be on the condition of granting a general amnesty.
Count. I acknowledge my guilt.
Count. I admit 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.)
(The Countess stands in the middle of the stage, the Count a little in the background, showing his shyness, but his face shows he's sure he will get his pardon. Susan stands in front of both, and her expressions are clearly relevant to the situation of both parties.)
Susan. To suspect a man in my Lady’s dressing-room!—
Susan. To think a guy would be in my lady's dressing room!—
Count. And to be thus severely punished for my suspicion!—
Count. And to be punished so harshly for my doubts!—
Susan. Not to believe my Lady when she assured you it was her Woman!
Susan. You really shouldn't have believed my Lady when she told you it was her Woman!
Count. Ah!——(with affected confusion) Deign, Madam, once more, to repeat my pardon.
Count. Ah!——(pretending to be confused) Please, Madam, could you kindly forgive me one more time?
Countess. Have I already pronounced it, Susan?
Countess. Have I said it already, Susan?
Susan. Not that I heard, Madam.
Susan. I didn't hear anything, Madam.
Count. Let the gentle sentence then escape.
Count. Let the soft sentence then slip away.
Countess. And do you merit it, ungrateful man? (with tenderness.)
Countess. Do you even deserve it, you ungrateful man? (with tenderness.)
Count. (Looking at Susan, who returns his look) Certainly, my Lady.
Count. (Looking at Susan, who meets his gaze) Of course, 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. What a great example I’m setting for you, Susan! (The Count takes her hand and kisses it.) Who will ever be afraid of a woman's anger again?
(Countess turns her head towards Susan, and laughs as she says this.)
(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.
Susan. (In the same tone) Yeah, yeah, Ma’am—I see what you mean——Guys might really call us weak.
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!
Count. And yet I can't, for the life of me, forget the pain, Rosina, that you just went through! Your cries, your tears, your—how could it be, since this is just fiction, that you made it feel so suddenly real and tragic?—Ha! ha! ha!—It was so surprisingly 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.
Countess. You see your Page, and I bet your Lordship wasn’t upset about the mix-up—I’m sure seeing Susan doesn’t bother you.
Count. Hem!—Offence! Oh! No, no, no—But what’s the reason, you malicious little hussey, you did not come when I called?
Count. Ahem!—That's offensive! Oh! No, no, no—But what’s the reason, you malicious little brat, why didn't you come when I called?
Susan. What! Undress’d, my Lord?
Susan. What! Naked, my Lord?
Count. But why didn’t you answer then?
Count. But why didn't you respond back then?
Susan. My Lady forbad me: and good reason she had so to do.
Susan. My lady told me I couldn't, and she had a good reason for that.
Count. Such distraction in your countenance! (To the Countess) Nay, it’s not calm even yet!
Count. What a distraction in your expression! (To the Countess) No, it’s still not calm!
Countess. Oh you—you fancy so my Lord.
Countess. Oh you—you think so highly of yourself, 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.
Count. I can see that men are not great at politics—women turn us into children. If the King were smart, he would choose you as his Ambassador, not me.
Enter FIGARO, chearfully; perceives the Count, who puts on a very serious air.
Enter FIGARO, cheerfully; notices the Count, who has a very serious demeanor.
Fig. They told me my Lady was indisposed, I ran to enquire, and am very happy to find there was nothing in it.
Fig. They told me my lady was unwell, so I rushed to check on her and I'm really glad to discover that there was nothing to worry about.
Count. You are very attentive.
Count. You're really 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.
Fig. It's my obligation to be here, my Lord. (Turns to Susan.) Come on, my lovely one! Get ready for the ceremony! Go to your bridesmaids.
Count. But who is to guard the Countess in the mean time?
Count. But who will take care of the Countess in the meantime?
Figaro. (Surprised) Guard her, my Lord! My Lady seems very well: she wants no guarding.
Figaro. (Surprised) Protect her, my Lord! My Lady looks just fine: she doesn't need any protection.
Count. From the Gallant, who was to profit by my absence? (Susan and the Countess make signs to Figaro.)
Count. From the Gallant, who was going to benefit from my absence? (Susan and the Countess signal to Figaro.)
Countess. Nay, nay, Figaro, the Count knows all.
Countess. No, no, Figaro, the Count knows everything.
Susan. Yes, yes, we have told my Lord every thing.—The jest is ended—Its all over.
Susan. Yes, yes, we’ve told my Lord everything.—The joke is finished—It’s all done.
Figaro. The jest is ended!—And its all over!
Figaro. The joke is done!—And it's all over!
Count. Yes—Ended, ended, ended!——And all over—What have you to say to that?
Count. Yes—It's over, over, over!——And done—What do you have to say about that?
Fig. Say, my Lord!
Fig. Hey, 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.)
(The confusion of Figaro comes from not believing it’s possible that the Countess and Susan could have betrayed him, and when he picks up on something from their hints, it’s because he doesn’t know how much they have revealed.)
Count. Ay, say.
Count. Yeah, say.
Fig. I—I—I wish I could say as much of my Marriage.
Fig. I—I—I wish I could say the same about my marriage.
Count. And who wrote the pretty Letter?
Count. So, who wrote the nice letter?
Figaro. Not I, my Lord.
Figaro. Not me, my Lord.
Count. If I did not know thou liest, I could read it in thy face.
Count. If I didn't know you're lying, I could see it in your face.
Figaro. Indeed, my Lord!—Then it is my face that lies; and not I.
Figaro. Indeed, my Lord!—So it’s my face that’s lying; not me.
Countess. Pshaw, Figaro! Why should you endeavour to conceal any thing, when I tell you we have confess’d all?
Countess. Come on, Figaro! Why would you try to hide anything when I’m telling you we’ve admitted everything?
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.
Susan. (Gesturing to Figaro) We've informed my Lord about the letter, which made him suspect that Hannibal, the Page, who is quite a distance away because of this, was hiding in my Lady’s dressing room, where I was locked in myself.
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.
Figaro. Alright, since my Lord insists on it, and my Lady insists on it, and you all want it that way, then that's how it will be.
Count. Still at his Wiles.——
Count. Still at his tricks.——
Countess. Why, my Lord, would you oblige him to speak truth, so much against his inclination? (Count and Countess walk familiarly up the stage.)
Countess. Why, my Lord, would you make him tell the truth when it's so against his nature? (Count and Countess walk casually up the stage.)
Susan. Hast thou seen the Page?
Susan. Have you seen the Page?
Fig. Yes, yes: you have shook his young joints for him, among you.
Fig. Yes, yes: you have shaken his young joints for him, among you.
Enter ANTONIO, the Gardener, with a broken Flower-pot under his arm half drunk.
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.
Antonio. My Lord—My kind Lord—If you don’t mind, could you please get these windows nailed shut? I’ll never have a bouquet fit to give to my Lady otherwise—they keep breaking my pots and ruining my flowers. They not only toss out garbage from the windows like before, but they just threw out a man too.
Count. A Man!—(The Count’s suspicions all revive.)
Count. A man!—(The Count's suspicions come back.)
Antonio. In white stockings!
Antonio. In white socks!
(Countess and Susan discover their fears, and make signs to Figaro to assist them if possible.)
(Countess and Susan realize their fears and signal Figaro to help them if he can.)
Count. Where is the Man? (Eagerly.)
Count. Where's 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.”
Antonio. That’s what I want to know, my Lord!—I wish I could find him,—I am your Lordship’s Gardener; and, though I say it, you won’t find a better Gardener in all of Spain;—but if chambermaids are allowed to throw men out of the window to protect their own reputation, what’s going to happen to mine?—"It will definitely fade away with my flowers."
Figaro. Oh fie! What sotting so soon in a morning?
Figaro. Oh come on! What kind of foolishness is this so early in the morning?
Antonio. Why, can one begin one’s day’s work too early?
Antonio. Why, can someone start their workday too early?
Count. Your day’s work, Sir?
Count. What’s your work for today, 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——
Antonio. Your Lordship knows my niece; she's standing there, getting married today. I'm sure she'd 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?
Count. If you weren't going to get drunk an hour earlier than usual—But go ahead with your story, Sir—What about the Man?—What happened next?
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.
Antonio. I followed him, my Lord, as quickly as I could, but somehow I accidentally tripped and slammed against the garden gate so hard that I completely forgot what I was supposed to do.
Count. And should you know this man again?
Count. Do you know this guy?
Antonio. To be sure I should, my Lord!—If I had seen him, that is.
Antonio. I definitely should, my Lord!—If I had actually seen him, that is.
Count. Either speak more clearly, Rascal, or I’ll send you packing to——
Count. Either speak more clearly, Rascal, or I'll kick you out 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[47] a good Gardener, I warrant I know when I have a good Place.
Antonio. Are you really sending me away, my Lord?—Oh, no! If you don't have enough (Points to his forehead) to recognize a good gardener, I guarantee I know when I've found a good position.
Figaro. There is no occasion, my Lord, for all this mystery! It was I who jump’d out of the window into the garden.
Figaro. There’s no need for all this mystery, my Lord! I was the one who jumped out of the window into the garden.
Count. You?
Count. You?
Figaro. My own self, my Lord.
Figaro. It's me, my Lord.
Count. Jump out of a one pair of stairs window and run the risk of breaking your Neck?
Count. Jump out of a second-story window and risk breaking your neck?
Figaro. The ground was soft, my Lord.
Figaro. The ground was soft, my Lord.
Antonio. And his Neck is in no danger of being broken.
Antonio. And his neck is not in any 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.)
Figaro. I definitely hurt my right leg a bit in the fall; right here at the ankle—I can still feel it. (Rubbing his ankle.)
Count. But what reason had you to jump out of the window?
Count. But what made you 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.—
Figaro. You got my letter, my Lord, I must admit, and you arrived a bit sooner than I thought, really upset, looking for 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.
Antonio. If it was you, you've really changed in just half an hour, in my opinion. The guy I saw didn't seem as tall in the head and shoulders.
Figaro. Pshaw! Does not one double one’s self up when one takes a leap?
Figaro. Come on! Don’t you curl up a bit when you jump?
Antonio. It seem’d a great deal more like the Page.
Antonio. It felt a lot more like the Page.
Count. 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!
Figaro. Oh yes, for sure, the Page has galloped back from Seville, horse and all, to jump 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.
Antonio. No, no, my Lord! I didn’t see anything like that! I swear I didn’t see any horse jump out of the window.
Figaro. Come, come, let us prepare for our sports.
Figaro. Come on, let’s get ready for our fun.
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.
Antonio. Well, since it was you, and because I’m an honest man, I should return this paper that fell out of your pocket when you dropped.
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?
Count. (Grabs the paper. The Countess, Figaro, and Susan all look surprised and awkward. Figaro shakes off the tension, and tries to regain his composure.) Well, since it was you, I suppose you can explain what's in this paper (hides the paper behind his back while facing Figaro) and how it ended up 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.)
Figaro. Oh, my Lord, I have so many papers (searches his pockets, pulls out a ton) No, that's not it!—Ahem!—This is a love letter from Marcelina, seven pages long—Ahem!—It would warm anyone's heart to read it—Ahem!—And this is a petition from the poor poacher in prison. I never handed it to you, my Lord, because I know you have much more serious matters to deal with than the complaints of these starving thieves—Ah!—Ahem!—this—this—no, this is an inventory of your Lordship’s sword knots, ruffs, ruffles, and roses—better hold onto this—(tries to stall and keeps glancing and clearing his throat at Susan and the Countess, hoping they'll read the paper and give him a clue.)
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.)
Count. It’s not this, nor this, nor that, nor the other thing that you have in your hand, but what I’m holding here in mine that I want to know the contents of. (Holds out the paper as he speaks; the Countess standing next to him catches a glimpse of it.)
Countess. ’Tis the Commission. (Aside to Susan.)
Countess. It’s the Commission. (Aside to Susan.)
Susan. The Page’s Commission. (Aside to Figaro.)
Susan. The Page's Commission. (Whispers to Figaro.)
Count. Well, Sir!—So you know nothing of the matter?
Count. Well, Sir!—So you don't know anything about it?
Antonio. (Reels round to Figaro) My Lord says you—know nothing of the matter.
Antonio. (Reels round to Figaro) My Lord says you know nothing about it.
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.
Figaro. Stay away, and don’t come over to whisper to me. (pretending to remember.) Oh man! Wow! What a complete fool I am!—I swear it's that poor kid, Hannibal's commission—which I, like an idiot, forgot to give back to him—He’s going to be really upset about it, poor guy.
Count. And how came you by it?
Count. How did you get that?
Figaro. By it, my Lord?
Figaro. By that, my Lord?
Count. Why did he give it you?
Count. Why did he give it to you?
Figaro. To—to—to——
Figaro. To—to—to—
Count. To what?
Count what?
Figaro. To get—
Figaro. To get—
Count. To get what? It wants nothing!
Count. For what? It wants nothing!
Countess. (to Susan) It wants the Seal.
Countess. (to Susan) It needs the Seal.
Susan. (to Figaro) It wants the Seal.
Susan. (to Figaro) It needs the Seal.
Figaro. Oh, my Lord, what it wants to be sure is a mere trifle.
Figaro. Oh, my Lord, what it really wants is just a small thing.
Count. What trifle?
Count. What nonsense?
Figaro. You know, my Lord, it’s customary to—
Figaro. You know, my Lord, it’s usual to—
Count. To what?
Count. To what now?
Figaro. To affix your Lordship’s Seal.
Figaro. To attach 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?
Count. (Looks at the Commission, sees that the Seal is missing, and exclaims with frustration and disappointment) The Devil and his Demons!—It's written, Count, you will be a Fool!—Where is this Marcelina?
[Going.
Going.
Figaro. Are you going, my Lord, without giving Orders for our Wedding?
Figaro. Are you leaving, my Lord, without arranging our wedding?
Enter MARCELINA, BASIL, BOUNCE, and Vassals.
Enter MARCELINA, BASIL, BOUNCE, and Vassals.
(The Count returns.)
(The Count is back.)
Figaro. Pshaw! A trifle, my Lord: a note of hand for money borrowed; nothing more.
Figaro. Come on! It's nothing, my Lord: just an IOU for some money I borrowed; that's all.
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.
Count. Let the lawyers and law enforcement officers gather in the grand Hall; we will decide there on the fairness of your claim. We shouldn't allow any of our Vassals, no matter how we feel about them personally, to be guilty of public wrongdoing.
Basil. Your Lordship is acquainted with my claims on Marcelina: I hope your Lordship will grant me your support.
Basil. You know about my claim on Marcelina, and I hope you’ll support me.
Count. Oh, oh! Are you there, Prince of Knaves?
Count. Oh, hey! Are you there, Prince of Rogues?
Antonio. Yes, that’s his title, sure enough.
Antonio. Yeah, that’s definitely his name.
Count. Approach, honest Basil; faithful Agent of our Will and Pleasure. (Basil bows) Go order the Lawyers to assemble.
Count. Come here, honest Basil; loyal Agent of our Will and Pleasure. (Basil bows) Go tell the Lawyers to gather.
Basil. My Lord!—
Basil. My Lord!—
Count. And tell the Peasant, by whom you sent me the Letter this morning, I want to speak with him.
Count. And let the Peasant know, the one who gave me the letter this morning, that I want to talk to him.
Basil. Your Lordship is pleased to joke with your humble Servant. I know no such Peasant.
Basil. My Lord, you're having a laugh with your humble servant. I don't know any such peasant.
Count. You will be pleased to find him, notwithstanding.
Count. You’ll be glad to see him, though.
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.
Basil. My office in this house, as you know, isn’t just for running errands! Consider, my lord, how that would diminish someone of my skills; I have the honor of teaching my lady the harpsichord, the mandolin to her maid, and entertaining you and your esteemed guests with my voice and guitar whenever you’re kind enough to give me the opportunity.
Bounce. I will go, if your Lordship pleases to[51] let me: I should be very glad to oblige your Lordship.
Bounce. I'll leave if that's what you want, my Lord: I’d be more than happy to do what you ask.
Count. What’s thy Name?
Count. What’s your name?
Bounce. Pedro Bounce, my Lord, Fire-work maker to your Lordship.
Bounce. Pedro Bounce, my Lord, your Lordship's fireworks maker.
Count. Thy zeal pleases me, thou shalt go.
Count. Your enthusiasm makes me happy; you can go.
Bounce. Thank your Lordship, thank your noble Lordship. (Leaps.)
Bounce. Thank you, my Lord, thank you, noble Lord. (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.
Count. (To Basil) So, please, Sir, would you entertain our guest on his journey with your voice and guitar? He is part of my good company.
Bounce. (Leaps) I am part of my Lord’s good Company! Who would have thought it!
Bounce. (Leaps) I am part of my Lord’s good Company! Who would have guessed it!
Basil. My Lord——
Basil. My Lord—
Count. Depart! Obey! Or, depart from my Service.
Count. Leave! Do what you're told! Or, quit my service.
(Exit.)
(Leave.)
Basil. ’Tis in vain to resist. Shall I wage war with a Lion, who am only——
Basil. It's pointless to resist. Should I fight a Lion, when I 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.”
Figaro. A Calf—"But come on, you look upset about it—I’ll get things started—let's play the music, it’s 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.)
Basil. Let's go, Mr. Bounce. (Basil starts to play, Figaro dances and sings ahead of him, and Bounce follows, dancing after.)
(Exeunt.)
(Exit.)
Manent COUNTESS and SUSAN.
COUNTESS and SUSAN.
Countess. You see, Susan, to what Danger I have been exposed by Figaro and his fine concerted Billet.
Countess. You see, Susan, what danger I've been put in because of Figaro and his fancy plan.
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!
Susan. “Dear Madam, if you had only seen yourself when I jumped out in front of my Lord! You were so pale, with such terror on your face! And then your sudden calmness!”
Countess. “Oh no, every Faculty was lost in my Fears.
Countess. “Oh no, I was overwhelmed with worries.”
Countess. And so that poor Child jumped out of the Window?
Countess. So that poor kid really jumped out of the window?
Susan. Without the least hesitation—as light and as chearful as a Linnet.
Susan. Without any hesitation—light and cheerful like a linnet.
Countess. I wish however I could convict my false Count of his Infidelity.
Countess. I really wish I could prove that my unfaithful Count is being disloyal.
Susan. The Page will never dare, after this, to make a second attempt.
Susan. The Page will never be bold enough to try again after this.
Countess. Ha!—A lucky project! I will meet him myself; and then nobody will be exposed.
Countess. Ha!—What a lucky plan! I will meet him myself; and then no one will be put at risk.
Susan. But suppose, Madam—
Susan. But suppose, ma'am—
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.
Countess. My success has given me confidence, and I'm determined to give it a shot—(Notices the ribbon left on the chair) What's this? My ribbon! I'll keep it as a reminder of the danger that poor young man faced—"Ah my Lord—But I have to be careful; I need to monitor my own behavior, so I don’t give anyone a reason to say—Ah my Lady!" (The Countess puts the ribbon in her pocket.) You can't tell anyone about this, Susan.
Susan. Except Figaro.
Susan. Except for 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.
Countess. No exceptions, he can't be told; he will ruin it by trying to add his own ideas to it—I promised you a share, you know—these guys are generous with their pleasures—Maybe I can double it for you; it will be Susan’s right.
Susan. Your Project is a charming one, Madam, and I shall yet have my Figaro.
Susan. Your project is delightful, ma'am, and I will definitely get my Figaro.
[Exit Susan, kissing the Countess’s Hand.
Exit Susan, kissing the Countess’s hand.
End of ACT II.
End of Act II.
SCENE, the Great Hall.
SCENE, the Great Hall.
(A Judge’s Chair, four other Chairs, Benches with red Baize, a Table and a Stool, with Pen, Ink and Paper.)
(A judge's chair, four other chairs, benches covered in red fabric, a table, and a stool, along with a pen, ink, and paper.)
Enter the COUNT, dressed, and a SERVANT, booted.
Enter the COUNT, dressed, and a SERVANT, in boots.
Count.
Count.
Ride to Seville with all speed; enquire if the Page has joined his Regiment, and at what o’clock precisely he arrived; give him this Commission, and return like lightening.
Ride to Seville as quickly as you can; ask if the Page has joined his Regiment, and what time exactly he arrived; give him this Commission, and come back like lightning.
Servant. And if he is not there—
Helper. And if he isn't around—
Count. Return still quicker.—Go; fly!——(Exit Servant)—I was wrong to send Basil out of the way—He might have been very serviceable—But Anger was never wise—I scarcely know at present what I wish—When once the Passions have obtained the Mastery, there is no Mind, however consistent, but becomes as wild and incongruous as a Dream—If the Countess, Susan, and Figaro should understand each other and plot to betray me!—If the Page was shut up in her dressing-room—Oh! no!—The Respect she bears herself—my Honor!—My Honor? And in my Wife’s keeping?—Honor in a Woman’s possession, like Ice Cream in the mouth, melts away in[54] a contest of Pleasure and Pain—I will sound Figaro, however.
Count. Come back even faster.—Go; hurry!——(Exit Servant)—I was wrong to send Basil away—He could have been really helpful—But anger has never been smart—I barely know what I want right now—Once emotions take control, no mind, no matter how rational, can help but become as chaotic and scattered as a dream—What if the Countess, Susan, and Figaro team up to betray me?—What if the Page is locked in her dressing room?—Oh! No!—The respect she has for herself—my honor!—My honor? And in my wife's hands?—Honor in a woman's possession, like ice cream in your mouth, melts away in the heat of pleasure and pain—I’ll check in with Figaro, though.
Enter FIGARO, behind.
Enter FIGARO, from behind.
Figaro. Here am I. (Aside.)
Figaro. I'm here. (Aside.)
Count. And if I have reason to suppose them plotting against me, he shall marry Marcelina.
Count. And if I have a reason to think they're scheming against me, he will marry Marcelina.
Figaro. Perhaps not. (Aside.)
Figaro. Maybe not. (Aside.)
Count. But in that case, what must Susan be?
Count. But in that case, what does that make Susan?
Figaro. My Wife, if you please.—
Figaro. My wife, if you please.
(Figaro’s eagerness occasions him to speak aloud——The Count turns round astonished.)
(Figaro's eagerness makes him speak out loud—The Count turns around, surprised.)
Count. My Wife, if you please!—To whom did you say my Wife, if you please?
Count. My wife, if you don’t mind! — Who did you say my wife, if you don’t mind?
Figaro. To—to—to—That is—They were the last words of a sentence I was saying to one of the Servants—Go and tell so and so to—my Wife, if you please.
Figaro. Um—That is—They were the last words of a sentence I was saying to one of the Servants—Go and tell so-and-so to—my Wife, please.
Count. Your Wife!—Zounds, you are very fond of your Wife.
Count. Your Wife!—Wow, you really love your Wife.
Figaro. I love to be singular.
Figaro. I love being unique.
Count. You have made me wait for you here a long while.
Count. You've kept me waiting here for a long time.
Figaro. I have been changing my Stockings, which I dirtied in the fall.
Figaro. I've been changing my socks, which I got dirty in the fall.
Count. Servants, I think, are longer dressing than their Masters.
Count. I think servants take longer to get ready than their masters do.
Figaro. Well they may—They are obliged to dress themselves.
Figaro. Well, they might as well—they have to get dressed.
Count. If in sifting my Gentleman, I find him unwilling to go to France, I may conclude Susan has betrayed me. (Aside.)
Count. If I'm going through my Gentleman and find that he doesn’t want to go to France, I might assume that Susan has let me down. (Aside.)
Figaro. He has mischief in his head, but I’ll watch his motions. (Aside.)
Figaro. He’s up to something, but I’ll keep an eye on his actions. (Aside.)
Count. (Approaches Figaro with familiarity)—Thou knowest, Figaro, it was my intention to have taken thee with me on my Embassy to Paris, but I believe thou dost not understand French.
Count. (Approaches Figaro in a friendly way)—You know, Figaro, I had planned to take you with me on my trip to Paris, but I think you don't understand French.
Figaro. Perfectly.
Figaro. Exactly.
Count. Indeed!—Let’s hear.—(Figaro pulls out his purse and jingles it)—Is that all the French thou understandest?
Count. Absolutely!—Let’s hear it.—(Figaro pulls out his purse and jingles it)—Is that the only French you understand?
Figaro. All!—Is not that enough, think you, my Lord?—That’s a Language understood in every corner of the habitable Earth, and in no place better than in Paris.—“Your Philosophers, who lament the loss of an universal Language, are Fools—They always carry one in their pockets.” As for a knowledge of French, my Lord, I maintain, s’il vous plait, and a Purse are all that’s necessary—Let but the sound of Silver jingle in a Frenchman’s ears, and he will instantly understand your meaning, be it what it will.— “If you have a Law-suit, and wish to gain your Cause, go to the Judge, pull off your Hat, and pull out your Purse; smile, shake it, and pronounce, s’il vous plait, Monsieur—
Figaro. Is that not enough, my Lord? That's a language understood in every corner of the world, and nowhere better than in Paris. "Those philosophers who lament the absence of a universal language are mistaken—they always have one in their pockets." As for knowing French, my Lord, I say that s'il vous plaît and a purse are all you need. Just let the sound of silver jingle in a Frenchman’s ears, and he will instantly get your meaning, whatever it might be. “If you have a lawsuit and want to win your case, approach the judge, remove your hat, and take out your wallet; smile, shake it, and say, s'il vous plaît, Monsieur—
Count. “And your Adversary is overthrown.
Count. "And your opponent is defeated."
Figaro. “Undoubtedly—Unless he understands French still better than you—Do you wish the Friendship of a great Lord, or a great Lady, its still the same—Chink, chink, and s’il vous plait, Monseigneur—S’il vous plait, Madame—The French are a very witty People!—Amazingly quick of apprehension!—Therefore, my Lord, if you have no other reason than this for leaving me behind—”
Figaro. “Definitely—Unless he understands French even better than you do—Do you want the Friendship of a powerful Lord or a powerful Lady? It’s still the same—Chink, chink, and s’il vous plait, Monseigneur—S’il vous plait, Madame—The French are incredibly witty!—So quick to understand!—So, my Lord, if this is your only reason for leaving me behind—”
Count. But thou art no Politician.
Count. But you are no politician.
Figaro. Pardon me, my Lord, I am as great a master of Politics——
Figaro. Excuse me, my Lord, I’m just as skilled in Politics—
Count. As thou art of French.
Count. As you are of French.
Figaro. Oh, my Lord, the thing is so easy—He must be a Fool indeed who could find his vanity flattered by his skill in Politics—To appear always deeply concerned for the good of the State, yet to have no other end but Self-interest; to assemble and say Nothing; to pretend vast Secrecy where there is nothing to conceal; to shut yourself up in your Chamber, and mend your pen or pick your Teeth, while your Footmen inform the attending Croud you are too busy to be approach’d—this, with the art of intercepting Letters, imitating Hands, pensioning Traitors, and rewarding Flatterers, is the whole mystery of Politics, or I am an Idiot.
Figaro. Oh, my Lord, it’s all so simple—You must really be a fool if you think your political skills actually flatter your ego. To always seem deeply invested in the well-being of the State, while really just looking out for yourself; to gather people and say nothing; to pretend you have important secrets when there’s nothing to hide; to lock yourself in your room, either fixing your pen or picking your teeth, while your servants tell the crowd you’re too busy to be disturbed—this, along with the ability to intercept letters, forge signatures, pay off traitors, and reward sycophants, is the entire secret of politics, or I must be an idiot.
Count. This is the definition of a Partisan not a Politician.
Count. This is the definition of a Partisan, not a Politician.
Figaro. Party and Politics are much the same, they are become synonimous terms.
Figaro. Party and politics are pretty much the same; they've become synonymous.
Count. (Aside) Since he is so willing to go to Paris, Susan has said nothing.
Count. (Aside) Since he’s so eager to go to Paris, Susan hasn’t said anything.
Figaro. ’Tis now my turn to attack. (Aside.)
Figaro. Now it’s my turn to strike. (Aside.)
Count. And—I suppose thou wilt take thy Wife with thee—to Paris?
Count. And—I guess you’ll be taking your wife with you to Paris?
Figaro. No—no—I should be obliged to quit her so frequently, that I am afraid the Cares of the marriage state would lie too heavy on my head (significantly.)
Figaro. No—no—I would have to leave her so often that I’m worried the responsibilities of marriage would weigh too heavily on my mind (significantly.)
Count. Susan has betrayed me. (Aside.)
Count. Susan has betrayed me. (Aside.)
Figaro. (Aside) He does not like the retort.
Figaro. (Aside) He doesn’t like the comeback.
(The Count smiles, approaches Figaro with great familiarity, and leans upon his shoulder—By-play between the Count and Figaro.)
(The Count smiles, walks up to Figaro in a friendly way, and leans on his shoulder—Interaction between the Count and Figaro.)
Count. The time was, Figaro, when thou wert more open—Formerly thou wouldst tell me any thing.
Count. There was a time, Figaro, when you were more open—You used to tell me everything.
Figaro. And at present I conceal nothing.
Figaro. Right now, I'm not hiding anything.
Count. What can be the Countess’s motives—(The Count puts his arm round Figaro’s neck—By-play again)—I—Thou seest I anticipate her wishes, load her with presents——
Count. What could the Countess’s motives be—(The Count puts his arm around Figaro’s neck—By-play again)—I—You see, I’m trying to anticipate her wishes, shower her with gifts——
Figaro. Will give her any thing but yourself—Of what worth are Trinkets when we are in want of Necessaries?
Figaro. Will give her anything but you—What good are trinkets when we need essentials?
Count. Come, come; be sincere—Tell me—How much did the Countess give thee for this last plot?
Count. Come on, be honest—Tell me—How much did the Countess pay you for this last scheme?
Figaro. As much as your Lordship gave me for helping you to steal her from her old jealous Guardian—“A noble Lord should not endeavour to degrade an honest Servant, lest he should make him a Knave.”
Figaro. As much as you paid me to help you take her from her jealous old guardian—"A noble lord shouldn't try to dishonor an honest servant, or he might end up making him a rogue."
Count. But wherefore is there continually some Mystery in thy conduct?
Count. But why is there always some mystery in your behavior?
Figaro. Because the Conduct of others is mysterious.
Figaro. Because other people's behavior is mysterious.
Count. Appearances, my dear Figaro, really speak thee a great Knave.
Count. Honestly, my dear Figaro, your looks really make you seem like a big trickster.
Figaro. (Looking round at the Count’s hand upon his shoulders, and observing his familiarity)—Appearances, my dear Lord, are frequently false—I am much better than I appear to be-Can the Great in general say as much?—(Aside)—Take that.
Figaro. (Looking around at the Count’s hand on his shoulders, and noticing his familiarity)—Looks, my dear Lord, can be deceiving—I’m much better than I seem to be—Can the people in power generally say the same?—(Aside)—Take that.
Count. Yes, yes; she has told him. (Aside.)
Count. Yeah, yeah; she's already told him. (Aside.)
Count. “But thou hast Abilities, and might rise to Preferment.
Count. “But you have skills and could achieve a higher position.
Figaro. “Preferred by my Abilities my Lord!——Your Lordship is pleased to laugh at me.”
Figaro. “My abilities, my Lord!—Your Lordship finds me amusing.”
Count. Yes, yes; Susan has betrayed me, and my Gentleman marries Marcelina. (Aside.)
Count. Yes, yes; Susan has let me down, and my man is marrying Marcelina. (Aside.)
Figaro. He has been angling for Gudgeons, and what has he caught? (Aside.)
Figaro. He's been fishing for Gudgeons, and what has he actually caught? (Aside.)
Enter a SERVANT.
Enter a SERVER.
Servant. Don Guzman and the Counsellors are without.
Servant. Don Guzman and the Advisors are outside.
Count. Let them wait.
Count. Make them wait.
Figaro. (Ironically) Aye, let them wait. (Exit Serv.)
Figaro. (Ironically) Yeah, let them wait. (Exit Serv.)
Count. And dost thou expect to gain thy Cause?
Count. Do you really think you’ll win your case?
Figaro. With the assistance of Justice and my Lord’s good wishes, who respects Youth too much himself to force others to wed with Age.
Figaro. With the help of Justice and my Lord’s kind wishes, who values Youth too much himself to push others into marrying someone much older.
Count. A Judge knows no distinction of persons.
Count. A judge treats all equally.
Figaro. “Well—Time, say the Italians, is a valiant Fellow, and tells Truth”—But what was it your Lordship was pleased to send for me for?
Figaro. “Well—Time, as the Italians say, is a brave guy and tells the truth”—But what did you want me for, my Lord?
Count. For—(Somewhat embarrassed) To see these benches and chairs set in order.
Count. Because—(Somewhat embarrassed) I notice these benches and chairs arranged neatly.
Figaro. That is already done, my Lord. Here is the great chair for your Lordship, a seat for the President, a table and stool for his Clerk, two benches for the Lawyers, the middle for the Beau monde, and the Mob in the back ground. (Exit.)
Figaro. That's already taken care of, my Lord. Here's the big chair for you, a seat for the President, a table and stool for his Clerk, two benches for the Lawyers, the middle for the high society, and the crowd in the back. (Exit.)
Count. He is too cunning; I can get nothing out of him; but they certainly understand each other.—They may toy and be as loving as they please, but as for wedding—
Count. He's too clever; I can’t get anything out of him, but they definitely understand each other. They can flirt and be as affectionate as they want, but as for marriage—
Enter SUSAN.
Enter SUSAN.
(She comes up to the Count’s elbow while he is speaking, and is surprized to see him in such an ill humour.)
(She approaches the Count while he is talking and is surprised to see him in such a bad mood.)
Susan. My Lord!
Susan. My God!
Count. My Lady!
Count. My Lady!
Susan. My Lady has sent me for your Lordship’s smelling-bottle; she has got the vapours.
Susan. My lady has sent me to get your lordship’s smelling bottle; she’s feeling faint.
Count. Here; and when she has done with it, borrow it for yourself,—it may be useful.
Count. Here; and when she’s finished with it, feel free to borrow it for yourself—it might come in handy.
Susan. I the vapours, my Lord! Oh no, that’s too polite a disease for a Servant to pretend to!
Susan. I'm feeling faint, my Lord! Oh no, that’s too fancy a way for a servant to act!
Count. Fits may come;—Love so violent as yours cannot bear disappointment; and when Figaro marries Marcelina—
Count. Outbursts might happen;—a love as intense as yours can’t handle rejection; and when Figaro marries Marcelina—
Susan. Oh, suppose the worst, my Lord, we can pay Marcelina with the Portion your Lordship has promised us!
Susan. Oh, let's say the worst happens, my Lord, we can pay Marcelina with the portion you promised us!
Count. I promis’d you a portion?
Count. I promised you a share?
Susan. If my ears did not deceive me, I understood as much.
Susan. If I heard correctly, that's what I got from it.
Count. Yes, if you had pleas’d to understand me, but since you do not.—
Count. Yes, if you had been willing to understand me, but since you haven't.—
Susan. (Pretending bashfulness) It’s always soon enough to own one’s weakness, my Lord.
Susan. (Acting shy) It's always a good time to admit one's weaknesses, my Lord.
Count. (with an instant change of countenance) What! Wilt thou take a walk this evening in the garden, by the Pavilion?
Count. (with an instant change of expression) What! Are you going to take a walk in the garden by the Pavilion this evening?
Susan. Don’t I take Walks every evening, my Lord?
Susan. Don't I go for walks every evening, my Lord?
Count. Nay, nay, but let us understand each other—No Pavilion, no Marriage.
Count. No, no, let's get this straight—No Pavilion, no Marriage.
Susan. And no Marriage, no Pavilion, my Lord! (curtsying)
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——
Count. What a clever little devil! I wonder what she does to captivate me so!—But please tell me, why have you always refused so stubbornly until now? Just this morning, you know——
Susan. This Morning, my Lord!—What, and the Page behind the Great-chair!
Susan. Good morning, my Lord!—What about the page behind the big chair!
Count. Oh, true! I had forgot!—But when Basil has spoken to thee in my behalf.—
Count. Oh, right! I totally forgot!—But when Basil has talked to you on my behalf.—
Susan. Is it necessary, my Lord, such a knave as Basil should know every thing that passes?
Susan. Is it really necessary, my Lord, for a scoundrel like Basil to know everything that happens?
Count. She is right again!—But—(Suspicious) thou wilt go, now, and tell Figaro all.
Count. She's right again!—But—(Suspicious) you're going to go now and tell Figaro everything.
Susan. To be sure, my Lord. I always tell him all—except what is necessary to conceal.
Susan. Of course, my Lord. I always share everything with him—except for what needs to be kept secret.
Count. Ah the Hussey! What a charming little Knave it is! Run, run to thy Mistress; she is waiting, and may suspect us.
Count. Ah, the Hussey! What a delightful little rascal it is! Hurry, hurry to your Mistress; she's waiting and might get suspicious.
Susan. (Hesitating) So your Lordship can’t perceive that I only wanted a pretext to speak to your Lordship.
Susan. (Hesitating) So, Your Lordship, you can't see that I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.
(The Count unable to conceal his transport, is going to kiss her, but hears somebody coming, and they separate)
(The Count, unable to hide his excitement, is about to kiss her but hears someone approaching, so they pull away from each other.)
Count. (As he turns.) She absolutely bewitches me! I had sworn to think no more of her, but she winds me just as she pleases!
Count. (As he turns.) She completely captivates me! I promised myself I wouldn’t think about her anymore, but she has me wrapped around her finger!
(The Count goes off, and Figaro enters, but the Count hearing Figaro’s Voice, returns and peeps)
(The Count leaves, and Figaro comes in, but the Count, hearing Figaro's voice, comes back and peeks)
Figaro. Well, my Susan, what does he say?
Figaro. So, my Susan, what does he say?
Susan. Hush! Hush! He is just gone—Thou hast gained thy Cause—Run, run, run.
Susan. Quiet! Quiet! He's just left—You've won your case—Run, run, run.
(Exit Susan, running, Figaro following.)
Exit Susan, running, Figaro chasing.
Figaro. Well, but how, how, my Charmer?
Figaro. Well, how, how, my lovely one?
(Exeunt.)
(Exit.)
Re-enter COUNT.
Re-enter the COUNT.
Count. Thou hast gained thy Cause—Aha! And is it so, my pair of Knaves!—Am I your Dupe then?—A very pretty Net! But the Cuckoo is not caught—Come!—Proceed we to judgment! (With passion) Be we just!—Cool!—Impartial!—Inflexible—
Count. You've won your case—Aha! And is that so, my two tricksters!—Am I your fool then?—Such a lovely trap! But the Cuckoo isn't caught—Come!—Let’s move to judgment! (With passion) Let’s be fair!—Calm!—Unbiased!—Steadfast—
(Exit.)
(Leave.)
Enter Don GUZMAN, MARCELINA, and DOCTOR.
Enter Don GUZMAN, MARCELINA, and DOCTOR.
Marcelina. I shall be happy, Mr. President, to explain the justice of my Cause.
Marcelina. I would be glad, Mr. President, to explain the fairness of my cause.
Doctor. To shew you on what grounds this Lady proceeds.
Doctor. To show you the reasons this lady is taking action.
D. Guzman. (Stuttering) We-e-e-ell, le-et us exa-a-mine the matter ve-erbally.
D. Guzman. (Stuttering) We-e-e-ll, le-et’s take a look at the issue verbally.
Marcelina. There is a promise of Marriage——
Marcelina. There’s a marriage promise——
Guzman. I co-o-o-ompre—hend! Gi-i-iven by you-ou-ou—to—
Guzman. I comprehend! Given by you—to—
Marcelina. No, Mr. President, given to me.
Marcelina. No, Mr. President, give it to me.
Guz. I co-o-o-omprehend! Gi-iven to you.
Got it! Given to you.
Marcelina. And a sum of Money which I——
Marcelina. And a sum of money that I——
Guzman. I co-o-o-omprehend! Which you-ou ha-ave received.
Guzman. I understand! Which you have received.
Marcelina. No, Mr. President, which I have lent.
Marcelina. No, Mr. President, that's what I lent.
Guzman. I co-o-o-omprehend!—It is re-e-paid.
Guzman. I understand!—It is repaid.
Marcelina. No, Mr. President, it is not repaid.
Marcelina. No, Mr. President, it isn't repaid.
Guzman. I co-o-o-omprehend—The m-m-man would marry you to pay his de-de-de-bts.
Guzman. I understand—The m-m-man would marry you to settle his de-de-de-bts.
Marcelina. No, Mr. President, he would neither marry me, nor pay his debts.
Marcelina. No, Mr. President, he would neither marry me, nor pay his debts.
Guzman. D-d—do you think I d-d-d-don’t co-o-omprehend you?
Guzman. D-d—do you think I d-d-d-don’t understand you?
Doctor. And are you, Mr. President, to judge this Cause?
Doctor. And are you, Mr. President, going to judge this case?
Guzman. T-t-t-to be sure—Wha-at else did I purchase my Place for thi-ink you, (Laughs stupidly at the supposed folly of the Question) And where is the De-fe-e-endant?
Guzman. T- t- to be sure—What else did I buy my place for, thank you, (Laughs foolishly at the supposed absurdity of the question) And where is the defendant?
Enter FIGARO.
Enter FIGARO.
Figaro. Here, at your service.
Figaro. At your service.
Doctor. Yes, that’s the Knave.
Doctor. Yes, that's the jerk.
Figaro. Perhaps I interrupt you.
Figaro. Sorry to interrupt you.
Guzman. “Ha-ave not I see-een you before, young Man?
Guzman. "Haven't I seen you before, young man?"
Figaro. “Oh yes, Mr. President, I once served your Lady.
Figaro. “Oh yes, Mr. President, I once worked for your lady.
Guzman. “How lo-ong since?
Guzman. “How long has it been?"
Figaro. “Nine months before the birth of her last Child—And a fine Boy it is, though I say it.
Figaro. “Nine months before her last child was born—And he’s a great boy, if you ask me."
Guzman. “Y-es—He’s the F-flower of the Flock”— And the cau-ause betwee-een—
Guzman. “Y-yeah—He’s the b-best of the bunch”— And the cau-ause betwee-een—
Figaro. A Bagatelle, Mr. President! A Bagatelle.
Figaro. A trivial matter, Mr. President! A trivial matter.
Guzman. (Laughs.) A Ba-ag-a-telle! A pro-o-mise of Ma-a-arriage a Ba-a-gatelle! Ha! ha! ha!——And dost thou hope to ca-ast the Pla-aintiff?
Guzman. (Laughs.) A ballad! A promise of marriage, a ballad! Ha! ha! ha!——And do you think you can get rid of the Plaintiff?
Figaro. To be sure, Mr. President! You being one of the Judges.
Figaro. Absolutely, Mr. President! You are one of the Judges.
Guzman. (With stupid dignity) Ye-e-es! I am one of the Judges!—Hast thou see-een D-D-Doublefee, my Se-ecretary?
Guzman. (With a ridiculous sense of dignity) Y-yes! I am one of the Judges!—Have you seen D-D-Doublefee, my Secretary?
Figaro. Yes, Mr. President! That’s a duty not to be neglected.
Figaro. Yes, Mr. President! That’s a responsibility that can’t be overlooked.
Guzman. The young Fellow is not so si-i-imple I thought.
Guzman. The young guy isn't as simple as I thought.
Enter Cryer of the Court, Guards, Count, Counsellors and Vassals.
Enter the Court Crier, Guards, Count, Counselors, and Vassals.
Cryer. Make room there, for my Lord, the Count.
Cryer. Make space there for my Lord, the Count.
Count. Wherefore in your Robes, Don Guzman? It was unnecessary for a mere domestic matter like this.
Count. Why are you in your robes, Don Guzman? This is just a private matter; there's no need for that.
Guzman. Pa-a-ardon me, my Lord! “Those who would tre-e-emble at the Clerk of the Court in his Robes, would la-augh at the Judge without ’em.” Forms! Forms! are sacred things.
Guzman. Excuse me, my Lord! “Those who would be afraid of the Clerk of the Court in his robes would laugh at the Judge without them.” Procedures! Procedures! are sacred things.
(The Count and the Court seat themselves.)
(The Count and the Court take their seats.)
Count. Call silence in the Court.
Count. Call for silence in court.
Cryer. Silence in the Court.
Crier. Silence in the Court.
Guzman. Read “over the Causes”, D-D-Doublefee.
Guzman. Read "about the Causes", D-D-Doublefee.
Doublefee. “The Count de los Altos Montes di Agnas Frescas, Señor di Montes Fieros, y otros Montes, Plaintiff, against Alonzo Calderon, a Comic Poet. The question at present before the Court, is, to know the Author of a Comedy that has been damned; which they mutually disavow and attribute to each other.
Doublefee. “The Count of the High Mountains of Fresh Springs, Lord of the Fierce Mountains, and others, Plaintiff, against Alonzo Calderon, a Comic Poet. The current question before the Court is to determine the Author of a Comedy that has been condemned; both parties deny responsibility and blame each other.
Count. “They are both very right in mutually disavowing it; and be it decreed, that if, hereafter, they should produce a successful Piece, its Fame shall appertain to the Count, and its Merit to the Poet—The next.
Count. “They are both completely justified in rejecting it; and it is decided that if, in the future, they create a successful work, its fame will belong to the Count, and its credit to the Poet—The next.
Doublefee. “Diego Macho, Day-labourer, Plaintiff, against Gil-Perez-Borcado, Tax-gatherer, and receiver of the Gabels, for having violently dispossessed the said Diego Macho, Day-labourer, of his Cow.
Doublefee. “Diego Macho, day laborer, plaintiff, against Gil-Perez-Borcado, tax collector, and receiver of the fees, for having forcefully taken away Diego Macho’s cow.”
Doublefee. Marcelina-Jane-Maria -Angelica-Mustachio, Spinster, Plaintiff, against—(To Figaro) Here’s no surname!
Doublefee. Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio, Spinster, Plaintiff, against—(To Figaro) Here’s no last name!
Figaro. Anonymous.
Figaro. Unknown.
Guzman. Ano-o-onymous—I never heard the Name before!
Guzman. Ano-o-onymous—I’ve never heard that name before!
Doublefee. Against Figaro Anonymous. What Profession?
Doublefee. Against Figaro Anonymous. What’s the profession?
Figaro. Gentleman.
Figaro. Dude.
Count. Gentleman!
Count. Sir!
Figaro. I might have been born a Prince, if Heaven had pleased.
Figaro. I could have been born a Prince if Heaven had allowed it.
Doublefee. Against Figaro Anonymous, Gentleman, Defendant. The Question before the Court relates to a promise of Marriage; the Parties have retained no Council, contrary to the ancient and established practice of Courts.
Doublefee. Against Figaro Anonymous, Gentleman, Defendant. The issue before the court concerns a promise of marriage; the parties have not hired any legal counsel, which goes against the long-standing and established practice of courts.
Figaro. What occasion for Council? A race of Gentlemen who are always so very learned, they know every thing, except their Briefs! Who insolently interrogate Modesty and Timidity, and endeavour, by confusing, to make Honesty forswear itself; and, after having laboured for hours, with all legal prolixity, to perplex self-evident Propositions, and bewilder the understandings of the Judges, sit down as proud as if they had just pronounced a Phillipic of Demosthenes—(Addressing himself to the Court) My Lord, and Gentlemen—The Question before the Court is——
Figaro. What’s the point of a Council? A bunch of Gentlemen who are always so very knowledgeable, they know everything except their own briefs! They arrogantly question Modesty and Timidity, trying to confuse things to make Honesty deny itself; and after spending hours adding unnecessary legal jargon to complicate obvious Propositions and confuse the understanding of the Judges, they sit down as if they’ve just delivered a speech worthy of Demosthenes—(Addressing himself to the Court) My Lord, and Gentlemen—The Question before the Court is——
Doublefee. (Interrupting him) It is not you to speak, you are the Defendant——Who pleads for the Plaintiff?
Doublefee. (Interrupting him) It's not your turn to talk, you're the Defendant—Who is representing the Plaintiff?
Doctor. I.
Doctor. Me.
Doublefee. You! A Physician turn Lawyer?—
Doublefee. You! A doctor turned lawyer?—
Figaro. Oh yes, and equally skilful in both.
Figaro. Oh yeah, and just as skilled in both.
Count. Read the Promise of Marriage, Doctor.
Count. Read the marriage contract, Doc.
Guzman. Re-e-ead the Pro-o-omise of Marriage.
Guzman. Reread the Promise of Marriage.
Doctor. (Reads) I acknowledge to have received of Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio, the sum of two thousand Piasters, in the Castle of Count Almaviva, which sum I promise to repay to the said Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio, and to marry her. Signed, Figaro. (Addressing himself to the Count) My Lord, and Gentlemen! Hem! Never did cause more interesting, more intricate, or in which the Interest of Mankind, their Rights, Properties, Lives and Liberties were more materially involved, ever claim the profound Attention of this most learned, most honourable Court, and from the time of Alexander the Great, who promised to espouse the beauteous Thalestris——
Doctor. (Reads) I confirm that I have received from Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio the amount of two thousand Piasters at Count Almaviva's Castle, which I promise to repay to her, and to marry her. Signed, Figaro. (Addressing the Count) My Lord and Gentlemen! Ahem! Never has a case been more interesting, more complex, or involved the Rights, Properties, Lives, and Liberties of Mankind more significantly than this one, which deserves the serious attention of this highly esteemed Court, and since the time of Alexander the Great, who pledged to marry the beautiful Thalestris—
Count. Stop, most formidable Orator; and ere you proceed, enquire whether the Defendant does not contest the validity of your Deed.
Count. Hold on, most impressive speaker; before you continue, ask whether the Defendant is challenging the validity of your Deed.
Guzman. (To Figaro) Do you co-ontest the va-va-va-va-lidity of the Dee-eed?
Guzman. (To Figaro) Do you contest the validity of the deed?
Figaro. My Lord and Gentlemen! Hem! There is in this Case, either Fraud, Error, Malice, or mischievous Intention, for the Words of the Acknowledgment are, I promise to repay the said Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio, the said sum of two thousand Piasters or to marry her, which is very different.
Figaro. My Lord and Gentlemen! Ahem! In this matter, there is either deceit, a mistake, bad intentions, or some kind of ill will, because the words of the acknowledgment state that I promise to either repay the said Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio the sum of two thousand Piasters or marry her, which is a very different proposition.
Doctor. I affirm it is AND.
Doctor. I confirm it is AND.
Figaro. I affirm it is OR.
Figaro. I say it's OR.
Doctor. Well, suppose it.
Doctor. Well, let's do it.
Figaro. No Supposition, I will have it granted.
Figaro. No doubt, I will have it accepted.
Count. Clerk, Read you the Promise.
Count. Clerk, read the promise.
Guzman. Re-e-ead the P-P-P-Promise, D-D-D-Double-fee.
Guzman. Re-read the Promise, Double-fee.
Doublefee. (Reads) I acknowledge to have received of Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio, the sum of two thousand Piasters, in the Castle of Count Almaviva, which sum I promise to repay the said Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio, and—or—and—or—or—The Word is blotted.
Doublefee. (Reads) I confirm that I have received from Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio the amount of two thousand Piasters at Count Almaviva's Castle, which I promise to repay to Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio, and—or—and—or—or—The Word is smudged.
Doctor. No matter; the Sense of the Phrase is equally clear. This learned Court is not now to be informed the word or particle, Or, hath various significations—It means otherwise and either—It likewise means before—For example, in the language of the Poet.
Doctor. No matter; the meaning of the phrase is just as clear. This knowledgeable court doesn't need to be told that the word or conjunction "Or" has different meanings—It can mean otherwise and either—It can also mean before—For instance, in the language of the poet.
Figaro. This was the language of Prophesy, and spoken of the Doctor’s own Patients.
Figaro. This was the language of prophecy, referring to the Doctor's own patients.
Count. “Silence in the Court.
Count. “Quiet in the Court.
Crier. “Silence in the Court.
Crier. “Order in the Court.
Doctor. “Hence then, I clearly deduce (granting the word to be Or) the Defendant doth hereby promise, not only to pay the Plaintiff, but marry her before he pays her— Again, the word Or doth sometimes signify Wherefore, as another great and learned Poet hath it,
Doctor. “So, I conclude (assuming the word is Or) that the Defendant is promising not only to pay the Plaintiff but also to marry her before he pays her—Again, the word Or can also mean Wherefore, as another great and learned Poet puts it,
“That is wherefore? For what reason could[67] heavenly Justice do such an unjust thing? Let us then substitute the adverb Wherefore, and the intent and meaning of the Promise will be incontestable; for, after reciting an acknowledgement of the debt, it concludes with the remarkable words, Or to marry her, that is, wherefore, for which reason, out of gratitude, for the Favour above done me, I will marry her.
“That is why? For what reason could[67] heavenly Justice do such an unjust thing? Let us then substitute the adverb Why, and the intent and meaning of the Promise will be clear; for, after acknowledging the debt, it concludes with the remarkable words, Or to marry her, that is, why, for which reason, out of gratitude, for the favor done for me, I will marry her.
Figaro. “Oh most celebrated Doctor? Most poetic Quibbler!
Figaro. “Oh, most famous Doctor? Most poetic Debater!
“What think you we know not Quotations, and Poets, and Ands, and Ors, and Whys, and Wherefores.
“What do you think we don’t know about quotes, and poets, and ands, and ors, and whys, and wherefores?
(Pointing first to the Doctor, and then to Marcelina)
(Pointing first to the Doctor, and then to Marcelina)
“We have neither forgot our Reading nor our Syntax, but can easily translate a dull Knave into a palpable Fool—” My Lord, and Gentlemen, You hear his Sophisms, Poetical, and Conundrums, Grammatical.
"We haven't forgotten our reading or grammar, but we can easily transform a dull trickster into a straightforward fool—" My Lord, and Gentlemen, You hear his arguments, poetic, and riddles, grammatical.
Count. Yes, yes, we hear.
Count. Yes, we get it.
(Count and the Counsellors rise and consult together.)
(The Count and the Counselors stand up and discuss together.)
Antonio. I’m glad they have put an end to your prating.
Antonio. I'm glad they've stopped your rambling.
Marcelina. Their Whisperings and wise Grimaces forebode me no good. That Susan has corrupted the chief Judge, and he is corrupting all the others.
Marcelina. Their whispers and sly smirks aren't a good sign for me. That Susan has influenced the chief judge, and he is leading the others astray as well.
Doctor. It looks devilish like it.
Doctor. It looks sinister like it.
(The Count and Counsellors resume their seats.)
(The Count and Counselors take their seats again.)
Doublefee. Silence in the Court.
Doublefee. Quiet in the Court.
Crier. Silence in the Court.
Town Crier. Quiet in Court.
Count. The judgment of the Court is, that since the validity of the promise of Marriage is not well established, Figaro is permitted to dispose of his Person.
Count. The Court's decision is that, since the validity of the marriage promise isn't clearly established, Figaro is allowed to make his own choices about his life.
Figaro. The Day’s my own.
Figaro. Today’s my day.
Marcelina. I thought how it would be.
Marcelina. I wondered what it would be like.
Count. But as the Acknowledgement clearly expresses the words, Which sum I promise to pay the said Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio, or to marry her, the said Figaro stands condemned to pay the two thousand Piasters to the Plaintiff, or marry her in the course of the Day.
Count. But as the Acknowledgement clearly states the words, Which sum I promise to pay the said Marcelina-Jane-Maria-Angelica-Mustachio, or to marry her, Figaro is therefore obligated to either pay the two thousand Piasters to the Plaintiff or marry her today.
Figaro. I’m undone!
Figaro. I'm a mess!
Marcelina. I am happy!
Marcelina. I'm happy!
Count. And I am revenged!
Count. And I'm getting my revenge!
Antonio. Thank your noble Lordship! Most humbly thank your noble Lordship!—Ah ha! I’m glad thou art not to marry my Niece! I’ll go and tell her the good news!
Antonio. Thank you, my Lord! I humbly thank you!—Ah ha! I’m glad you’re not marrying my niece! I’ll go tell her the good news!
(Exit.)
(Log out.)
Crier. Clear the Court.
Crier. Clear the courtroom.
(Exeunt Guards, Counsellors, and Vassals.
(Guards, Counsellors, and Vassals exit.)
Manent Don Guzman, Figaro, Marcelina and Dr. Bartholo.
Don Guzman, Figaro, Marcelina, and Dr. Bartholo remain.
Figaro. ’Tis this Furze-ball, this Fungus of a President that has lost me my Cause.
Figaro. It’s this Furze-ball, this Fungus of a President who has ruined my case.
Guzman. I a F-F-Furze-ball and a F-F-Fungus!
Guzman. I'm a F-F-Furze-ball and a F-F-Fungus!
Figaro. (Sits down dejected) I will never marry her.
Figaro. (Sits down feeling down) I will never marry her.
Guzman. Thou mu-ust ma-arry her.
Guzman. You must marry her.
Figaro. What! Without the Consent of my noble Parents?
Figaro. What! Without my noble parents' approval?
Count. (Returning) Where are they? Who are they?—He will still complain of injustice—Name them.
Count. (Returning) Where are they? Who are they?—He will still complain about unfairness—Name them.
Figaro. Allow me time, my Lord—I must first know where to find them, and yet it ought not to be long, for I have been seeking them these five Years.
Figaro. Give me a moment, my Lord—I need to find out where they are, but it shouldn’t take long since I’ve been looking for them for five years.
Doctor. What! A Foundling?
Doctor. What! An orphan?
Figaro. No Foundling, but stolen from my Parents.
Figaro. Not a foundling, but taken from my parents.
Count. Poh! This is too palpable.
Count. Ugh! This is too obvious.
(Exit Count)
(Exit Count)
Figaro. Had I no other Proof of my Birth than the precious Stones, Ring, and Jewels found upon me, these would be sufficient—but I bear the Mark——
Figaro. If I had no other proof of my birth than the precious stones, ring, and jewels found with me, that would be enough—but I have the mark——
(He is going to shew his Arm.)
(He is going to show his arm.)
Marcelina. Of a Lobster on your left Arm.
Marcelina. With a lobster on your left arm.
Figaro. How do you know that?
Figaro. How do you know?
Marcelina. ’Tis he himself!
Marcelina. It’s him!
Figaro. “Yes, it’s me myself.”
Figaro. "Yes, it's me."
Marcelina. ’Tis Fernando!
Marcelina. It's Fernando!
Doctor. Thou wert stolen away by Gypsies.
Doctor. You were taken away by Gypsies.
Doctor. Behold thy Mother.
Doctor. Look at your Mother.
(Pointing to Marcelina.)
(Pointing to Marcelina.)
Figaro. Nurse, you mean!
Figaro. You mean nurse!
Doctor. Thy own Mother!
Doctor. Your own Mother!
Figaro. Explain!
Figaro. Explain!
Marcelina. And there behold thy Father.
Marcelina. And there see your Father.
(Pointing to the Doctor.)
(Points to the Doctor.)
Figaro. He, my Father! Oh Lord! Oh Lord! Oh Lord! (Stamps about.)
Figaro. He, my Dad! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! (Stamps around.)
Guzman. (With great wisdom) It will be no m-m-match—that’s evi-dent.
Guzman. (With great wisdom) It will be no match—that’s evident.
Marcelina. Hast thou not felt Nature pleading within thee, at sight of me?
Marcelina. Haven't you felt Nature calling out to you when you see me?
Figaro. Never.
Figaro. No way.
Marcelina. This was the secret cause of all my Fondness for thee.
Marcelina. This was the hidden reason for all my love for you.
Figaro. No doubt—And of my aversion—Instinct is very powerful.
Figaro. No doubt about it—And my dislike—Instinct is really strong.
Marcelina. Come to my arms, my dear, my long lost Child.
Marcelina. Come into my arms, my dear, my long-lost child.
(Figaro and Marcelina embrace, the Doctor leans against the Benches.)
(Figaro and Marcelina hug while the Doctor leans against the benches.)
Enter ANTONIO and SUSAN.
Enter ANTONIO and SUSAN.
(The latter runs to find the Count)
(The latter runs to find the Count)
Susan. (In great Agitation) Oh, where is my Lord? Here is the Money to pay Marcelina with! The Portion which my noble and generous Lady has given me!
Susan. (Very agitated) Oh, where is my Lord? Here is the money to pay Marcelina! The share that my noble and generous Lady has given me!
Antonio. (pulling Susan, and pointing to Figaro, who kisses Marcelina.) Here! here! Look this way!
Antonio. (pulling Susan and pointing to Figaro, who kisses Marcelina.) Over here! Look this way!
(Susan, at seeing them embrace becomes furious, and is going away, Figaro runs and brings her back.)
(Susan, seeing them hug, gets really angry and starts to leave, but Figaro runs after her and brings her back.)
Figaro. Stop, stop, my Susan.
Figaro. Wait, wait, my Susan.
Susan. I have seen enough—Since you are so fond of her, pray marry her.
Susan. I’ve seen enough—Since you like her so much, just go ahead and marry her.
Figaro. Thou art mistaken.
Figaro. You're mistaken.
Susan. No, I am not mistaken.
Susan. No, I'm not mistaken.
(Gives him a slap in the face.)
(Hits him in the face.)
Figaro. (Rubbing his Cheek) “This is Love—Pshaw! Prithee come hither, look at that Lady—How dost thou like her?
Figaro. (Rubbing his Cheek) “This is love—come on! Come over here, look at that lady—what do you think of her?
Susan. “Not at all.
Susan. “Not even close."
Figaro. “Well said Jealousy, she does not mince the Matter.”
Figaro. “Well said, Jealousy; she doesn't beat around the bush.”
Marcelina. Dear Susan, this, this is my Son!
Marcelina. Dear Susan, this is my son!
Figaro. “Yes, they wanted me to marry my Mother.”
Figaro. “Yeah, they wanted me to marry my mom.”
Antonio. “Your Mother!——It is not long since——
Antonio. “Your mom! It hasn’t been long since—
Figaro. “I have known it—True.”
Figaro. “I knew it—True.”
Marcelina. Yes, my dearest Susan, embrace thy Mother—Thy Mother, who will love thee dearly.
Marcelina. Yes, my dearest Susan, hug your Mother—Your Mother, who will love you dearly.
Susan. And do you consent I shall have my Figaro?
Susan. Do you agree that I can have my Figaro?
Marcelina. Willingly. (Susan runs and kisses her) Here, my Son, here is the Promise.
Marcelina. Sure. (Susan runs and kisses her) Here, my Son, here is the Promise.
(Gives him the Paper.)
(Gives him the paper.)
Susan. And here is the Portion.
Susan. And here is the portion.
(Gives him a Purse of Money.)
(Gives him a bag of money.)
Figaro. “My manly Pride would fain make me restrain my tears, but they flew in spite of me—Well, let ’em! Let ’em flow! Joys like these never come twice in one’s Life! Oh, my Mother, Oh, my Susan!”
Figaro. "My pride tells me to hold back my tears, but they came out anyway—Fine, let them! Let them flow! Moments like this don’t happen more than once in a lifetime! Oh, my mother, Oh, my Susan!”
(They all three embrace, weeping.)
They all hug, crying.
Guzman. (weeping.) What a Foo-oo-ool am I! L-L-Look, if I don’t k-k-k-cry as well as the best of ’em.
Guzman. (weeping.) What a fool am I! L-L-Look, if I don’t cry as well as the best of them.
Figaro. (to the Doctor) My Father.
Figaro. (to the Doctor) My Dad.
Doctor. Keep off! I disclaim thee!
Doctor. Stay away! I reject you!
Antonio. Why then, if you are his Father, you are a Turkish Jew, and no Christian Father.
Antonio. So, if you're his father, that makes you a Turkish Jew, not a Christian father.
Doctor. A Knave that tricked me of my Ward, cheated me of my Money, and now has been turning my Wisdom into ridicule.
Doctor. A fraud who deceived me out of my Ward, swindled me of my Money, and is now mocking my Intelligence.
Susan. And are not you, being a wise Man, proud to have a Son wiser than yourself?
Susan. Aren't you, as a wise man, proud to have a son who is smarter than you?
Doctor. No—I would have no one wiser than myself.
Doctor. No—I wouldn't want anyone to know more than I do.
Antonio. Come, come, look you, I am “a good Catholic, and” an old Castilian, therefore, unless your Father and Mother become lawful Man and Wife, I will never consent to give you my Niece. No, no, she sha’n’t marry a man who is the child of Nobody, neither.
Antonio. Come on, listen, I’m "a devout Catholic, and" an old Castilian, so unless your parents get married, I will never agree to let you marry my niece. No way, she’s not going to marry someone who comes from nowhere, either.
Guzman. Here’s an old Fool!—The Child of Nobody, Ha! ha! ha! (Laughs stupidly, and then assumes great Wisdom) Hav’n’t you lived long enough to know that every Child must have a Father?
Guzman. Here’s an old fool!—The child of nobody, ha! ha! ha! (Laughs foolishly, and then acts very wise) Haven't you lived long enough to know that every child must have a father?
Marcelina. “Consider, good Doctor, your Promise, if ever our Child was found.
Marcelina. “Think about it, good Doctor, your promise if we ever find our child."
Doctor. “Pshaw!
Doctor. "Ugh!"
Marcelina. “And here is a Son you surely need not be ashamed of.
Marcelina. “And here is a Son you definitely don't need to be ashamed of.
Susan. “Ah my dear Pappa!
Susan. “Oh my dear Dad!
Figaro. “My generous, worthy Father.
Figaro. “My kind, deserving Dad.
(Susan strokes his Cheek, Figaro kneels, and Marcelina coaxes him.)
Susan strokes his cheek, Figaro kneels, and Marcelina encourages him.
Susan. “You don’t know how we will all love you.
Susan. “You have no idea how much we're all going to love you.
Marcelina. “What care we will take of you.
Marcelina. “We'll take good care of you.
Figaro. “How happy we will make you.
Figaro. “We’re going to make you so happy.
Doctor. “Good Doctor, dear Pappa, generous Father! (Bursts out a crying) See, if I am not even[73] a greater Foo-oo-ool than Mr. President! (Guzman staggers back at the Doctor’s Compliment) they mould me like Dough, lead me like a Child. (Marcelina, Susan, and Figaro testify their Joy by their Actions.) Nay, nay, but I hav’n’t yet said yes.
Doctor. “Good Doctor, dear Dad, kind Father! (Bursts out crying) Look, I'm even more of a fool than Mr. President! (Guzman staggers back at the Doctor’s compliment) They shape me like dough, guide me like a child. (Marcelina, Susan, and Figaro show their joy through their actions.) No, no, but I haven't said yes yet.”
Susan. “But you have thought yes.
Susan. “But you have thought yes.”
Marcelina. “And look’d yes.
Marcelina. “And looked, yes."
Figaro. “Come, come, we must be quick; let us run and find the Count, otherwise he will invent some new pretext to break off the Match.
Figaro. “Come on, we need to hurry; let's go find the Count, or he’ll come up with some new excuse to call off the Match.”
(Exeunt Doctor, Marcelina, Figaro and Susan.)
(Exit Doctor, Marcelina, Figaro, and Susan.)
Manent Don GUZMAN.
Mr. Don GUZMAN.
Guzman. “A greater Foo-oo-ool than Mr. President!—The People in this House are truly very stupid and ill bred.”
Guzman. “More foolish than Mr. President!—The people in this House are really very dumb and rude.”
(Exit.)
Exit.
End of ACT III.
End of Act III.
SCENE, a large Saloon.
Scene, a big bar.
FIGARO and SUSAN, both joyous.
FIGARO and SUSAN, both happy.
Figaro.
Figaro.
She has converted her Doctor at last—They are to be married, and these so late implacable Enemies are now become our dearest Friends.
She has finally changed her Doctor's mind—they're getting married, and these former unyielding enemies have now become our closest friends.
Susan. What unexpected Happiness!
Susan. What a surprise!
Figaro. Chance, my Susan—All the effect of Chance—“Yesterday, without a Relation in the World I could claim, to-day, behold me restored to my Parents—True it is, they are neither so rich nor so right honorable, so belaced nor betitled as my imagination had painted them—But that’s all one, they are mine”—I may truly be called both a Chance Child, and a Child of Chance—By Chance was I begot, by Chance brought into the World, by Chance was I stole, by Chance am I found, by Chance have I lived, and by Chance I shall die—Chance is Nature’s Sovereign, and must be mine.
Figaro. Luck, my Susan—All the impact of Luck—"Yesterday, I felt completely alone with no one to call family. But today, here I am, back with my parents. It’s true, they’re not as wealthy or impressive, and they don’t have the status or titles I imagined them to have. But that doesn’t matter; they are my family."—I can truly be called both a Child of Luck and a Lucky Child—By Luck I was conceived, by Luck I came into the World, by Luck I was taken, by Luck I was found, by Luck I have lived, and by Luck I will die—Luck is Nature’s Ruler, and it must be mine.
Susan. Yes, and by Chance thou mayst come to be hang’d. (Laughs.)
Susan. Yeah, and by chance you might end up hanged. (Laughs.)
Susan. Ha, ha, ha!—Prithee leave thy Philosophy, and—
Susan. Ha, ha, ha!—Please put aside your Philosophy, and—
Figaro. And think of that other blind beggar, Love—Most willingly, my Angel. (Kisses her.)
Figaro. And remember that other blind beggar, Love—Of course, my Angel. (Kisses her.)
Susan. Pooh, Pooh!—That was not what I meant.
Susan. Pooh, Pooh!—That’s not what I meant.
Figaro. Rather say it was not half thy meaning, or thy meaning ill expressed. (Kisses her again.)
Figaro. Actually, it didn't convey half of what you meant, or your message was poorly expressed. (Kisses her again.)
Susan. Ah, Figaro! Were this fondness, these days but durable—
Susan. Ah, Figaro! If only this affection, these moments could last forever—
Figaro. Durable!—Iron and Adamant—No; may millions of imaginary Gallants wrack my heart and decorate my—
Figaro. Tough stuff!—Iron and Diamond—No; let millions of made-up Casanovas break my heart and adorn my—
Susan. “No rhodomantade, Figaro—Tell me the simple truth.
Susan. “No fancy talk, Figaro—Just tell me the plain truth."
Figaro. “By the truest of all Truths I swear—
Figaro. “I swear by the most genuine truth—
Susan. “Truest of Truths!—Are there various kinds of Truths then?
Susan. “The truest truths! So, are there different kinds of truths then?
Figaro. “No doubt.
Figaro. “For sure."
Susan. “Fie!
Susan. “Ugh!
Figaro. “There are Truths that may be spoken: such as the Peccadillos of a poor Rascal! Truths that may not be spoken: such as the Robberies of a rich Rascal—There are your Truths comprehensible: such as that two and two make four; and your Truths incomprehensible: such as that two and two make five—Then there are your Tradesman’s Truths, which he retails to his Customers, your Lover’s Truths, which he pours wholesale into his Mistress’s ear—Your Courtier’s Truths, on which he feeds his Dependants and Parasites—Your Court of Law, or Kiss-the-Book Truths, which are the daily support of a vast number of very[76] honest people—There are also your physical and metaphysical Truths—Your old Truths and your new Truths—Your heterodox and orthodox Truths—Your Mahometan Truths, your Jewish Truths, and your—other kind of truths, concerning which there never was nor ever will be any doubt—Not to mention your Truths in fashion: such as that Idleness, Ignorance, Dissipation, Gaming and Seduction are the requisites of a Gentleman—And your Truths out of fashion: such as that Gentleness, Obedience, Œconomy, and connubial Love are the requisites of a Gentlewoman.
Figaro. “There are truths you can speak: like the minor faults of a poor rascal! Truths you can’t speak: like the crimes of a rich rascal—Then there are the straightforward truths: like how two plus two equals four; and the incomprehensible truths: like how two plus two equals five—Next are the truths a tradesman tells his customers, the truths a lover whispers into his mistress’s ear—Your courtier’s truths, which he uses to feed his dependents and hangers-on—Your courtroom, or kiss-the-book truths, which are the daily support of a vast number of very[76] honest people—There are also physical and metaphysical truths—Your old truths and your new truths—Your unorthodox and orthodox truths—Your Muslim truths, your Jewish truths, and your—other kinds of truths, about which there has never been and never will be any doubt—Not to mention your in-fashion truths: like how idleness, ignorance, extravagance, gambling, and seduction are essential for a gentleman—And your out-of-fashion truths: like how gentleness, obedience, thriftiness, and marital love are essential for a gentlewoman.
Susan. “I find by your account of the matter, Figaro, that poor Truth, like a Lottery Ticket, is so divided and sub-divided, so halved, quartered, cut, carv’d, split and spliced, it is no where entire to be found.
Susan. “From what you've said, Figaro, it seems that poor Truth, like a Lottery Ticket, is so divided and broken down—halved, quartered, cut, carved, split, and spliced—that it can't be found whole anywhere.
Figaro. “No where.
Figaro. “Nowhere."
Susan. “And moreover, that what is Truth to-day may be a Lie to-morrow.
Susan. “And also, what is true today might be a lie tomorrow.
Figaro. “May be! Must be.
Figaro. “Maybe! Has to be.
Susan. “Consequently, that in less than twenty-four hours, my very tender submissive, ardent Lover may be metamorphosed into an arbitrary, cold, haughty Husband.
Susan. “So, in less than twenty-four hours, my very tender, submissive, passionate lover could change into a demanding, cold, arrogant husband.
Figaro. “Impossible!—Impossible, my Susan! As it is for thee, my gentle, kind, and beauteous Bride, to be transformed into an ill-tempered, extravagant slatternly Wife.
Figaro. “No way!—No way, my Susan! It’s just as impossible for you, my sweet, kind, and beautiful Bride, to turn into a cranky, extravagant, messy Wife.
Susan. “I understand thee”—Well, Well—We will endeavour to convert the iron Bands of Matrimony into a flowery Wreath which Love shall teach us to bear lightly and joyously through Life.
Susan. "I understand you."—Alright, we’ll try to turn the heavy chains of marriage into a beautiful garland that love will help us carry lightly and happily through life.
Figaro. Aye, and thus live a happy Exception to the established usage of a mad World.
Figaro. Yeah, and that's how you live happily outside the crazy norms of this world.
Susan. But prithee, who is to go disguised and meet the Count?
Susan. But seriously, who’s going to go in disguise and meet the Count?
Figaro. Who?—Nobody—Let him wait and fret, and bite his Nails—I never meant thou shouldst go.
Figaro. Who?—Nobody—Let him wait and stress out, and bite his nails—I never intended for you to leave.
Susan. I assure thee I never had any inclination.
Susan. I promise you I never had any interest.
Figaro. “Is that the real Truth, Susan?”
Figaro. “Is that the real truth, Susan?”
Susan. “What! Thinkest thou I am as learned as thou art? And that I keep several sorts of Truths?”
Susan. “What! Do you think I'm as smart as you are? And that I have all kinds of truths?”
Figaro. (With fond Vivacity). And dost thou love me?
Figaro. (With affectionate energy). Do you love me?
Susan. (Tenderly). Too much, I doubt.
Susan. (Tenderly). I doubt it's too much.
Figaro. Ah!—That’s but little.
Figaro. Ah!—That's not much.
Susan. How!
Susan. Wow!
Figaro. In Love’s Creed, too much is not even enough.
Figaro. In Love’s Creed, there’s no such thing as too much.
Susan. I understand nothing of this over-refinement, but I feel I shall love my Husband most heartily.
Susan. I don’t get all this excessive detail, but I really think I’ll love my husband a lot.
Figaro. Keep thy word, and put our modern Wives to the blush.
Figaro. Keep your promise and make our modern wives feel embarrassed.
Susan. Afford them a subject to laugh and point at, thou mean’st.
Susan. You want to give them something to laugh at and make fun of, right?
Enter the COUNTESS.
Enter the Countess.
Countess. Wherever you meet One of them, be certain you shall find a Pair. (They salute the Countess)—The Bridesmen and Maids wait for you, Figaro.
Countess. Wherever you encounter one of them, you can be sure you'll find a couple. (They greet the Countess)—The groomsmen and bridesmaids are waiting for you, Figaro.
Figaro. I will take my excuse in my hand—(Going to lead out Susan)—Few offenders can plead so charming a one.
Figaro. I'll make my excuse right here—(Going to lead out Susan)—Not many miscreants can use such a lovely excuse.
Susan. “I must not go, Madam, Figaro is unwilling.
Susan. “I can’t go, ma’am, Figaro doesn’t want to.”
Countess. (Angry). “Figaro!—Figaro is not so scrupulous when a Marriage-portion is in question—That’s a poor Pretence; you are sorry you have told the truth, and discovered the Intentions of the Count.—Go, go—I am not to be so deceived. (Going).
Countess. (Angry). “Figaro!—Figaro doesn’t care much about being honest when there’s a marriage dowry involved—That’s a weak excuse; you regret telling the truth and revealing the Count’s plans.—Go on, go—I won’t be fooled like that.” (Going).
Susan. (Catching hold of her and kneeling). “Ah, Madam! Let me conjure you to hear me, to pardon me.—How can you think me capable of deceiving so good, so liberal a Lady, whose bounties I have so often felt!——Oh, no; it is because I have promised Figaro.
Susan. (Catching hold of her and kneeling). “Oh, Madam! Please let me beg you to listen to me, to forgive me. How could you think I'm capable of deceiving such a kind and generous lady, whose kindness I've experienced so many times?——Oh, no; it's because I made a promise to Figaro.”
Countess. (Mildly and Smiling). “Rise—Hast thou forgot, silly Girl, that it is I who am to go and not thee.—(Kisses her forehead)—But—I was too hasty.
Countess. (Gently and Smiling). “Get up—Have you forgotten, silly girl, that I’m the one who has to go, not you.—(Kisses her forehead)—But—I was too quick.
Susan. “My dear, my generous Mistress.”
Susan. “My dear, kind Mistress.”
Countess. And what is the place of Rendezvous?
Countess. So, where is the meeting spot?
Susan. The Pavilion in the Garden.
Susan. The Pavilion in the Park.
Countess. There are two.
Countess. There are two of them.
Susan. But they are opposite.
Susan. But they are polar opposites.
Countess. True—At what hour?
Countess. True—What time?
Susan. I don’t know.
Susan. I have no idea.
Countess. That must be fixed—Sit down, take the pen and write—
Countess. That needs to be sorted out—Sit down, grab the pen and write—
(Susan sits down, the Countess dictates)
(Susan sits down, and the Countess starts to dictate)
A NEW SONG,
A new track,
To the Tune of,
To the Beat of,
The Twilight past, the Bell had toll’d.
The twilight has passed, the bell has tolled.
Susan. (Writes). New song—Tune of—Bell had toll’d—What next, Madam?
Susan. (Writes). New song—Tune of—Bell has tolled—What’s next, Madam?
Countess. Dost think he will not understand thee?
Countess. Do you really think he won't understand you?
Susan. (Looking archly at the Countess). Very true—(Folding up the Letter)—But here is neither Wax nor Wafer.
Susan. (Giving the Countess a teasing look). That's absolutely right—(Folding the letter)—But there's no Wax or Wafer here.
Countess. Fasten it with a Pin, and write on the direction, Return the Seal. (Smiling.)
Countess. Secure it with a pin and note on the envelope, Return the Seal. (Smiling.)
Susan. (Laughs) The Seal!—(Gets up.)—This is not quite so serious as the Commission just now was.
Susan. (Laughs) The Seal!—(Gets up.)—This isn't as serious as the Commission just was.
Countess. (Sighs). Ah, Susan.
Countess. (Sighs). Oh, Susan.
Susan. I have never a Pin.
Susan. I have never had a pin.
Countess. Take this.
Countess. Here you go.
(Gives her one which fastened the Page’s riband to her breast; it falls.)
(She gives her one that attached the Page's ribbon to her chest; it falls.)
Susan. (Picking up the riband) This is the Page’s riband, Madam.
Susan. (Picking up the ribbon) This is the Page’s ribbon, Ma'am.
Countess. Wouldst thou have me let him wear it? It will do for Agnes; I will give it her the first Bouquet she presents me.
Countess. Do you want me to let him wear it? It’ll be fine for Agnes; I'll give it to her the first time she presents me with a bouquet.
(Just as the Countess has said this, Agnes and a troop of young Maidens, among them the Page, in girl’s cloaths, enter with nosegays for the Countess, who instantly puts the riband in her pocket, with an evident wish, by her looks and action, to preserve it.)
(As soon as the Countess says this, Agnes and a group of young maidens, including the Page dressed in girls' clothes, enter with bouquets for the Countess, who quickly puts the ribbon in her pocket, clearly wanting to keep it based on her expression and actions.)
Countess. (Looking at the Page) What pretty maiden is this?
Countess. (Looking at the Page) Who is this lovely young woman?
Agnes. A Cousin of mine, Madam, that we have invited to the Wedding.
Agnes. A cousin of mine, ma'am, whom we have invited to the wedding.
Countess. Well, then, as we can wear but one nosegay, let us do honour to the Stranger. (Takes the Nosegay from the Page, and kisses his forehead.—(Aside to Susan) Don’t you think, Susan, she resembles amazingly—(Stops short, and looks at Susan).
Countess. Well, since we can only wear one bouquet, let's pay tribute to the Stranger. (Takes the Bouquet from the Page and kisses his forehead.—(Aside to Susan) Don’t you think, Susan, she looks a lot like—(Stops short and looks at Susan).
Susan. Amazingly, indeed, Madam!
Susan. Wow, absolutely, ma'am!
Page. (Aside) What a precious kiss! I feel it here. (Putting his hand on his heart.)
Page. (Aside) What a wonderful kiss! I can feel it here. (Putting his hand on his heart.)
Enter the Count, and Antonio with a hat in his hand.
Enter the Count, and Antonio holding a hat in his hand.
Antonio. (As he enters) Yes, yes, my Lord, I’m certain it was him. The rakish little Rascal is disguised among the Girls. I found his new hat and cockade here—hid in a basket. (The Countess and Susan surprised, look at the Page, and then at each other. The girls surround and endeavour to hide Hannibal; Antonio seeks among them). Ay, ay, here he is—here he is. (Antonio takes off his cap, and puts on his hat) There, my Lord! There’s a pretty, modest Virgin for you!
Antonio. (As he enters) Yes, yes, my Lord, I’m sure it was him. That cheeky little rascal is blending in with the girls. I found his new hat and feather here—hidden in a basket. (The Countess and Susan, surprised, look at the Page, then at each other. The girls gather around, trying to hide Hannibal; Antonio searches among them). Aha, here he is—here he is. (Antonio takes off his cap and puts on his hat) There you go, my Lord! There’s a lovely, modest girl for you!
Count. Well, my Lady!
Count. Well, my Lady!
Countess. Well, my Lord!—I am as much surprized as you can be; and, I assure you, not less vex’d.—At present, however, it is time to tell you the whole Truth: This young gentleman (Pointing to the Page) was hid in my Dressing-room.—We attempted a Joke, which these Girls have put in practice.
Countess. Well, my Lord!—I’m just as surprised as you are; and I guarantee I’m just as upset.—But right now, it’s time to share everything honestly: This young man (Pointing to the Page) was hiding in my dressing room.—We tried to pull a prank that these girls have put into action.
Count. But wherefore hide him from me?
Count. But why are you hiding him from me?
Countess. Because, my Lord, when your Passions are predominant, you are incapable of either listening to or believing the Truth.
Countess. Because, my Lord, when your emotions are at their peak, you find it hard to hear or accept the truth.
Count. (Aside) Must I for ever be disturbed, haunted, and bewitch’d thus by this beardless Boy? (Turning with great wrath towards the Page) What is the reason, Sir, you have not obeyed my Commands?
Count. (Aside) Am I destined to be endlessly disturbed, haunted, and enchanted by this young boy? (Turning with great anger towards the Page) What’s the reason, Sir, that you haven’t followed my orders?
Page. (Draws back frightened, and takes off his hat) My-my-my Lord, I staid to teach Agnes the Love scene she is to play in the Comedy this evening.
Page. (Draws back frightened, and takes off his hat) M-my-my Lord, I stayed to teach Agnes the love scene she’s going to perform in the comedy this evening.
Agnes. (Steps forward) Ah, my Lord, when you come to my room, you know, and want to kiss me—
Agnes. (Steps forward) Oh, my Lord, when you come to my room and want to kiss me—
Count. I!
Count me in!
(The Countess remarks his embarrassment, Susan laughs silently, and makes signs to the Countess).
(The Countess notices his embarrassment, Susan quietly laughs and gestures to the Countess).
Agnes. Yes, my Lord! You say to me, My pretty Agnes, if you will but love me, I will give you any thing you wish to have; now, my Lord, if you will give me Hannibal for a husband, I will love you with all my heart.
Agnes. Yes, my Lord! You say to me, My dear Agnes, if you love me, I’ll give you whatever you want; now, my Lord, if you give me Hannibal as my husband, I will love you with all my heart.
Countess. You hear, my Lord!—Has not the simplicity of this Child’s confession, as artless as the one I have this moment made, sufficiently justified my Conduct? And do not circumstances prove, how injurious your Suspicions have been, and how well founded mine? (Count bows to the Countess.)
Countess. Do you hear, my Lord?—Hasn’t the straightforwardness of this Child’s confession, as innocent as the one I just made, clearly justified my actions? And don’t the circumstances show how harmful your suspicions have been, and how justified mine were? (Count bows to the Countess.)
Antonio. You see, my Lord, what a giddy young thing it is.
Antonio. You see, my Lord, what a foolish young thing it is.
Count. And very loving too.
Count. And very affectionate too.
Antonio. Her mother, as every body knows, was just such another.
Antonio. Her mother, as everyone knows, was just like that too.
Enter FIGARO.
Enter FIGARO.
Figaro. Come, my pretty Maidens, come. (Turns to the Count) While you keep the Lasses here, my Lord, we can neither begin our Procession nor our Dances.
Figaro. Come on, my lovely girls, let's go. (Turns to the Count) As long as you have the girls here, my Lord, we can’t start our procession or our dances.
Count. (Gravely putting on his hat) Why surely, Sir, you don’t intend to dance.
Count. (Seriously putting on his hat) Of course not, Sir, you can't be planning to dance.
Figaro. Why not, my Lord?
Figaro. Why not, my lord?
Count. What! With a hurt in your ancle?
Count. What? With an injury to your ankle?
Figaro. Oh! Is that all?—It pains me a little, to be sure; but that’s a trifle—Come Girls.
Figaro. Oh! Is that all?—It hurts me a bit, sure; but that’s nothing—Come on, girls.
Count. (Turning him back) You were very lucky to light upon such soft ground.
Count. (Turning him back) You were really lucky to find such soft ground.
Figaro. Exceedingly, my Lord:—Come Lasses.
Figaro. Absolutely, my Lord:—Come on, ladies.
Antonio. (Turning him back on the other side) And then you double yourself up, when you take a leap? Yet, like a Cat, you fall on your feet.
Antonio. (Turning him back on the other side) So you curl up when you jump? But somehow, like a cat, you always land on your feet.
Figaro. What then?—Come Gir—
Figaro. What now?—Come on, Gir—
Count. But how unhappy the poor Youth will be about his Commission.
Count. But how unhappy the poor young man will be about his assignment.
Figaro. What is the meaning of all this, my Lord?
Figaro. What does all this mean, my Lord?
Antonio. (Bringing the Page forward) Do you know this bashful young Lady?
Antonio. (Bringing the Page forward) Do you know this shy young lady?
Figaro. The Devil! Hannibal!—(Aside.) Well, and what Riddle has he to propound?
Figaro. No way! Hannibal!—(Aside.) So, what riddle does he have for us?
Count. No Riddle, Sir, but a simple matter of fact:—He affirms, it was he who jump’d out of the window.
Count. No riddle, sir, just a straightforward fact: he claims he was the one who jumped out of the window.
Figaro. Does he?—Well, if he say so, I suppose it is so.
Figaro. Does he?—Well, if he says so, I guess it must be true.
Count. How! What two at a time?
Count. What do you mean, two at a time?
Figaro. Two? Twenty! Why not, my Lord? One sheep begins, and the rest naturally follow: (Flourish of Music without) Come, come, my merry Maidens, don’t you hear the music? Quick, quick, run, run, run.
Figaro. Two? Twenty! Why not, my Lord? One sheep starts, and the others naturally follow: (Flourish of Music without) Come on, my cheerful Maidens, don’t you hear the music? Hurry, hurry, run, run, run.
(Exeunt Susan and Figaro, with the Girls.)
(Susan and Figaro exit, along with the Girls.)
Count. (To the Page) Harkee, little Rascal, begone, instantly; put off your Petticoats, and don’t stir out of your room the rest of the day.—Take care, Sir, I don’t meet you again.
Count. (To the Page) Listen up, little Rascal, get out of here right now; take off your Petticoats, and don’t leave your room for the rest of the day.—Be careful, Sir, I don’t want to see you again.
Page. (Putting on his hat) No matter—I bare away that upon my forehead, which would compensate for an age of imprisonment. (Exit joyously).
Page. (Putting on his hat) It doesn’t matter—I have something on my forehead that makes up for a lifetime of being locked up. (Exit joyously).
Countess. (Embarrassed) A—His Officer’s hat, I suppose. Every new Bauble pleases a Child.
Countess. (Embarrassed) A—His officer's hat, I guess. Every new trinket makes a kid happy.
(Going.)
Going.
Count. The Procession is coming, will not your Ladyship stay and be a witness of your Favourite’s happiness?
Count. The procession is coming. Won't you stay and witness your favorite's happiness, my lady?
Countess. As your Lordship pleases.
Countess. As you wish, my Lord.
Enter the Procession of the two Weddings. A March is played; Doctor Bartholo and Marcelina are preceded by Cryer of the Court, Guards, Doublefee, Counsellors, Don Guzman; after them come Antonio, Figaro, and Susan, followed by the Bridesmen and Maids, and a troop of Dancers. They all salute the Count and Countess as they pass; and after making the tour of the stage, Antonio presents his Niece to the Count; Susan kneels, one of the Bridemaids gives the Count the nuptial Cap; and Susan, while the Count is placing it on her head, plucks him by the cloak, and shews him the Note she had just before written. He pretends to keep adjusting the Cap, and slily reaches to take the Note, which he instantly claps in his bosom, having previously unbuttoned himself for that purpose. While this is transacting a Castanet-Dance is performed. As soon as Susan rises, she purposely places herself before the Countess, to encourage the Count to read the Note, who accordingly steps forward, is going to open it, and pricks his finger with the Pin, which he plucks out and throws angrily on the floor.)
Enter the Procession of the two Weddings. A march is played; Doctor Bartholo and Marcelina are followed by the Court Cryer, Guards, Doublefee, Counselors, and Don Guzman; after them come Antonio, Figaro, and Susan, trailed by the Bridesmen and Maids, along with a group of Dancers. They all salute the Count and Countess as they pass by; and after touring the stage, Antonio presents his Niece to the Count; Susan kneels, one of the Bridesmaids hands the Count the wedding cap; and while the Count is placing it on her head, Susan tugs at his cloak and shows him the note she wrote just before. He pretends to keep adjusting the cap and secretly reaches to take the note, which he quickly slips into his bosom after unbuttoning his coat. While this is happening, a Castanet dance is performed. As soon as Susan stands up, she purposely positions herself in front of the Countess to prompt the Count to read the note, which he does step forward to do, only to prick his finger with a pin, which he then plucks out and angrily tosses on the floor.
Count. These Women and their curst Pins.
Count. These women and their cursed pins.
Figaro. (Aside to his Mother laughing) The Count has received a Billet-doux from some pretty Girl, sealed with a Pin! This is a new fashion, which he does not seem to admire.
Figaro. (Aside to his Mother laughing) The Count has gotten a love note from some cute girl, sealed with a pin! This is a new trend, and he doesn’t seem to like it.
Figaro. (To his Mother) Every thing is precious that appertains to a beloved object.—He picks up the very Pin, you see.
Figaro. (To his Mother) Everything is valuable that belongs to someone we love.—He picks up the very pin, you see.
(All this while Susan and the Countess remark what is passing with laughter, and private looks and gestures.)
(Meanwhile, Susan and the Countess are sharing laughs, private looks, and gestures about what's happening.)
Countess. (Rising) Come with me, Susan. We shall soon be back, my Lord. (Aside to Susan) Let us make haste and exchange dresses.
Countess. (Rising) Come on, Susan. We’ll be back soon, my Lord. (Aside to Susan) Let’s hurry and swap outfits.
(Exeunt Countess and Susan.
(Countess and Susan exit.)
Crier. “Guards! Guards!—This way, Guards! (Places the Guards at the door, runs up to the Count) My Lord, here’s Mr. Basil coming, my Lord, with the whole Village at his heels; because he has been singing all the way he went.
Crier. “Guards! Guards!—Over here, Guards! (Positions the Guards at the door, rushes to the Count) My Lord, Mr. Basil is approaching, my Lord, with the entire Village following him; he’s been singing the whole time he walked.
Figaro. “Orpheus and the Brutes. But I’ll make him change his Tune.”
Figaro. “Orpheus and the Brutes. But I’ll make him switch it up.”
Enter BASIL singing, followed by BOUNCE.
Enter BASIL singing, followed by BOUNCE.
Count. So, Mr. Basil, what is your will and pleasure?
Count. So, Mr. Basil, what do you want?
Basil. “After having fulfilled your Lordship’s commands, by amusing this honest Gentleman——
Basil. “After following your Lordship’s instructions by entertaining this good man——
Bounce. “Me, my Lord? I assure your Lordship he has not amused me in the least.
Bounce. "Me, my Lord? I promise you, he hasn't entertained me at all."
Basil. “I now return to enforce my claims on Marcelina.
Basil. “I'm back to assert my rights over Marcelina.
Figaro. “Look you, Sir—Should you venture but to cast one look, or approach one step nearer that Lady——
Figaro. “Listen, Sir—If you even dare to glance in her direction or take a single step closer to that lady——
Doctor. “Let him speak, Figaro, let him speak.
Doctor. “Let him talk, Figaro, let him talk.
Guzman. “Oh f-f-fie!—What f-f-friends!—
Guzman. “Oh wow!—What great friends!—
Figaro. “I disclaim such friendship.
Figaro. “I reject such friendship."
Basil. “And I——Error in Judgment, Mr. President.
Basil. “And I——Mistake in Judgment, Mr. President.
Figaro. “He!—A Street-corner Ballad-Bawler!
Figaro. “Hey!—A Street-corner Singer!
Basil. “As good, at least, as a Barber-Surgeon!
Basil. “Just as good, at least, as a barber-surgeon!”
Figaro. “Who hashes up a dinner out of Horse-hair and Catgut!
Figaro. “Who puts together a dinner made from horsehair and gut!”
Basil. “Who has hungrily devoured Razors and Hones, and fed half his life upon Froth! (Imitates beating up a Lather.)
Basil. “Who has eagerly consumed Razors and Hones, and spent half his life on Froth! (Imitates whipping up a Lather.)
Figaro. “The high Priest of Pimps!
Figaro. “The high Priest of Hustlers!
Basil. “The vile Drudge of Intrigue!
Basil. “The wicked Drudge of Intrigue!
Figaro. “Execrated by those he serves!
Figaro. “Cursed by those he serves!
Basil. “Gulled by his own Cunning!
Basil. "Fooled by his own cleverness!"
Figaro. “So great a Fool, Knavery itself cannot make him thrive!
Figaro. “He’s such a fool that even trickery can’t help him succeed!”
Basil. “So stupid, he never yet could invent a probable Lie!
Basil. "So foolish, he still hasn't been able to come up with a believable lie!"
Doctor. } “Hold, hold.
Guzman. }
Doctor. } “Wait, wait.
Guzman. }
Figaro. “A Pedantic!
Figaro. “A Know-it-all!"
Basil. “Pert!
Basil. “Cool!
Figaro. “Preposterous!
Figaro. "Ridiculous!"
Basil. “Pragmatical!
Basil. “Practical!
Figaro. “Braying!
Figaro. "Loud and annoying!"
Basil. “Lop-eared!
Basil. “Big ears!
Figaro. “Ass!
Figaro. “Idiot!
Count. “How now!—Is this all the Respect you shew?—
Count. “Hey! Is this all the respect you’re showing?”
Basil. “You hear, my Lord, how he insults me! When, it is well known, there is not, in all Andalusia, a more eminent!——
Basil. “Do you hear this, my Lord? He's insulting me! When, as everyone knows, there isn't anyone more outstanding in all of Andalusia!——
Figaro. “Empty!
Figaro. “Empty!”
Basil. “Able!
Basil. “Yo!
Figaro. “Abject!
Figaro. “Awful!
Basil. “Musician!
Basil. “Artist!
Figaro. “Miscreant!
Figaro. “Rogue!
Basil. “Is this to be borne?
Basil. “Can we tolerate this?”
Figaro. “Whose countenance prophecies of Pillories, Scaffolds, and the stretching of Hemp; and whose whole appearance is a continual Memento of public Calamity, Plague, Pestilence, and Famine;—A Misericordia, Sackcloth-and-ashes Knave;—A Scape Goat, that looks like a Jew in the yellow Jaundice.
Figaro. “Whose face warns of public humiliation, execution, and the noose; and whose whole appearance is a constant reminder of disasters, disease, and hunger;—A sorry figure, dressed in rags—A scapegoat that looks like someone suffering from jaundice.”
(Doctor Bartholo and Don Guzman prevent Basil from falling upon Figaro.)
(Dr. Bartholo and Don Guzman stop Basil from attacking Figaro.)
Count. “Do you think this proper, Mr. Figaro?
Count. “Do you think this is appropriate, Mr. Figaro?
Figaro. “Why not, my Lord?—Let him listen to Truth, since he is too Poor to pay Parasites and Liars.
Figaro. “Why not, my Lord?—Let him hear the Truth, since he doesn't have the money to pay Parasites and Liars.”
Count. “Silence, Sir!—Let us hear, Mr. Basil, what you have to say.
Count. “Quiet, Sir!—Let’s hear what you have to say, Mr. Basil.
Basil. “(Composing himself) I demand the hand of Marcelina, my Lord, who promised to marry me.
Basil. “(Getting himself together) I ask for the hand of Marcelina, my Lord, who promised to marry me.
Marcelina. “On what condition was this promise made?
Marcelina. “What was the condition of this promise?”
Basil. “That I should adopt your lost Son, if ever you should be happy enough to find him.
Basil. “That I should take in your lost son if you ever get lucky enough to find him.”
Marcelina. “Well.
Marcelina. “Okay.
Doctor. “He is found.
Doctor. “He has been found."
Basil. “Where is he?
Basil. "Where is he?"
Doctor. “Here he stands. (Pointing to Figaro).
Doctor. “Here he is. (Pointing to Figaro).
Guzman. “The-e-e-ere he stands.
Guzman. “There he is.”
Basil. “He!—Oh, my curst Stars!
Basil. “Wow! Oh, my cursed stars!
Guzman. “Do you re-e-nounce your pre-e-tentions to his de-e-ear Mother?
Guzman. “Do you renounce your intentions toward his dear mother?
Basil. “Renounce!—As I would renounce the Devil and all his Works.
Basil. “Give it up!—Just like I would give up the Devil and everything he does.
Figaro. “What! Renounce your best Friend?—But that’s like your Rogue’s tricks.
Figaro. “What! Give up your best friend?—But that’s just like your typical tricks.”
Basil. “I will not live under the same roof with him—I would rather even quit the service of my Lord.
Basil. “I can’t live in the same house as him—I’d rather even leave my Lord’s service.
Figaro. “Don’t be uneasy, I shan’t trouble you long—Restored to my Parents, and married to my Susan, I shall retire and live in Peace.
Figaro. “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you for long—Once I’m back with my parents and married to my Susan, I’ll settle down and live in peace.”
Count. “(Aside) And I shall retire to meet my Mistress.
Count. “(Aside) And I'll go to meet my Mistress.
Guzman. “So every body is sa-a-tisfied.”
Guzman. “So everybody is satisfied.”
Count. Let the marriage Contracts be prepared, and I will sign them.
Count. Get the marriage contracts ready, and I will sign them.
Figaro. Thanks, gracious Lord.
Figaro. Thanks, kind Lord.
Bounce. And I will go and prepare the Fireworks in the Garden, near the Pavilion.
Bounce. And I will go and get the fireworks ready in the garden, by the pavilion.
Count. (Returning) Who, pray Sir, gave you those Orders?—The Countess is too much indisposed to come out; let them, therefore, be played off in front of the Castle, facing her Windows—(Aside)—The Rascal was going to set fire to my Place of Rendezvous! (Exeunt).
Count. (Returning) Who, may I ask, gave you those orders? The Countess is feeling too unwell to come out; so let’s have the performance in front of the castle, facing her windows—(Aside)—That scoundrel was about to torch my meeting spot! (Exeunt).
Manent FIGARO and MARCELINA.
FIGARO and MARCELINA.
Figaro. How attentive he is to his Wife.
Figaro. He's so attentive to his wife.
Marcelina. “It is necessary”—My dear Figaro, “I should undeceive thee respecting my former false accusations of Susan—Basil has always told me she obstinately refused to listen to the Count’s Overtures, and” I am both sorry and ashamed to have excited thy Jealousy.
Marcelina. “It's necessary”—My dear Figaro, "I need to correct my earlier false accusations about Susan—Basil has always told me that she stubbornly refused to listen to the Count’s advances, and" I am both sorry and ashamed to have stirred up your jealousy.
Figaro. Oh, be under no apprehensions, my dear Mother; Jealousy is the foolish Child of Pride, the Disease of a Madman—My Philosophy is invulnerable to its poisonous Arrows. (Figaro turns and sees Agnes just behind him, coming down the Stage).—So! What you have been listening, my little inquisitive Cousin?
Figaro. Oh, don’t worry, my dear Mother; Jealousy is just the silly child of Pride, a madness that drives people crazy—My philosophy is immune to its toxic arrows. (Figaro turns and sees Agnes just behind him, coming down the stage).—So! What have you been eavesdropping on, my little curious cousin?
Agnes. Oh, no; they tell me that is not polite.
Agnes. Oh, no; I've been told that it's not polite.
Figaro. Then what’s your errand?—He is not here.
Figaro. So what do you need?—He’s not here.
Agnes. Who?
Agnes? Who's that?
Figaro. Hannibal.
Figaro. Hannibal.
Agnes. Oh, I know that very well—I know where he is—I want my Cousin Susan.
Agnes. Oh, I know that for sure—I know where he is—I want my Cousin Susan.
Figaro. Aye!—And what do you want with her?
Figaro. Yeah!—And what do you want with her?
Agnes. Not much; only to give her a Pin.
Agnes. Not much; just to give her a pin.
Figaro. (Starts) A Pin! (Striding about in great anger) A Pin!—And how dare you, you little Hussey, undertake such Messages?—What! Have you learnt your trade already?—(Marcelina makes a sign to Figaro, who recollects himself, and endeavours to disguise his feelings)—Come, come, my pretty Cousin, don’t be frighten’d, I was but in joke—I—I—I know all about it; it’s a Pin that my Lord has sent by you to Susan.
Figaro. (Starts) A pin! (Striding about in great anger) A pin! — And how dare you, you little brat, take on such messages? — What! Have you already learned your trade? — (Marcelina makes a sign to Figaro, who recollects himself, and tries to hide his feelings) — Come on, my pretty cousin, don’t be scared, I was just joking — I—I—I know all about it; it’s a pin that my lord sent you for Susan.
Agnes. Since you know so well, why need you ask me then?
Agnes. Since you understand so well, why do you need to ask me?
Figaro. (Coaxing) Only to hear what my Lord said when he sent thee on this errand.
Figaro. (Coaxing) I just want to know what my Lord said when he sent you on this mission.
Agnes. Here, said he, here, my pretty little Agnes, take this Pin to thy Cousin Susan, and tell her it is the Seal of the new Song about the Twilight and the Pavilion.
Agnes. Here, he said, here, my sweet little Agnes, take this pin to your cousin Susan and tell her it's the seal of the new song about the twilight and the pavilion.
Figaro. And the——
Figaro. And the—
Agnes. The Pavilion—And take great care, said he, that nobody sees thee.
Agnes. The Pavilion—And be very careful, he said, to make sure no one sees you.
Figaro. Well, well, I was but joking; go and execute thy Message faithfully, exactly as my Lord bade thee.
Figaro. Alright, I was just kidding; go and deliver your message faithfully, just like my Lord asked you to.
Agnes. Law! My Cousin takes me for a Ninny, I believe. (Exit skipping).
Agnes. Wow! I think my cousin thinks I’m an idiot. (Exit skipping).
Figaro. So, my Mother!
Figaro. Oh, my Mom!
Marcelina. So, my Son!
Marcelina. So, my son!
Figaro. Here’s a sweet Daughter!—A delightful Bride!—And will be a most virtuous Wife!——(Walking up and down with great agitation)——A false—Deceitful—I’m happy, however, I have found her out—I will detect, expose, and abandon her!
Figaro. What a lovely daughter!—A charming bride!—And she’ll be such a virtuous wife!——(Pacing back and forth with great agitation)——A fake—Deceptive—I’m glad I figured her out—I will reveal the truth, expose her, and leave her!
Marcelina. Nay, but gently, my Son, gently; recollect that Jealousy is the disease of a Madman, and that your Philosophy is invulnerable.—Fie! fie!—All this passion about a Pin!
Marcelina. No, my Son, take it easy; remember that jealousy is a madness, and your philosophy is strong.—Come on!—All this anger over a pin!
Figaro. A Pin that has wounded me to the heart!—Didn’t we see the Count pick it up?
Figaro. A pin that has pierced my heart!—Didn’t we see the Count grab it?
Marcelina. We did so; but how can we tell whether she means to deceive thee or him?—Art thou sure she will go to the Rendezvous; and wilt thou condemn her without hearing her?
Marcelina. We did that; but how can we know if she intends to deceive you or him?—Are you sure she will go to the meeting; and will you judge her without hearing her out?
Figaro. I am sorry—I am a Fool—And yet!—If she should be false!
Figaro. I'm sorry—I'm an idiot—But still!—What if she is unfaithful!
Marcelina. Nay, but my dear Figaro——
Marcelina. No, but my dear Figaro——
Figaro. Well, well; I will be calm—Yes, my amorous Count, you will at least meet with somebody you don’t expect—If you do not make haste we shall be at the Pavilion, as soon as your Lordship!
Figaro. Alright, alright; I’ll stay calm—Yes, my charming Count, you’re going to encounter someone you don’t see coming—If you don’t hurry, we’ll reach the Pavilion before you know it, my Lord!
(Exeunt).
Exeunt.
The End of ACT IV.
The End of ACT 4.
SCENE, the Garden,
SCENE, the Garden,
With walks of cut trees in the back ground, and two Pavilions, one on each side of the stage.
With paths lined by cut trees in the background, and two pavilions, one on each side of the stage.
Enter AGNES. (A lanthorn in one hand, and two cakes and an orange in the other)
Enter AGNES. (A lantern in one hand, and two cakes and an orange in the other)
Agnes.
Agnes.
The Pavilion to the left? Ay, that’s it.—But if he should not come soon!—He has not half learnt me my part yet—Poor thing, he hasn’t eat any thing all day; and the cross, good-for-nothing Cook would not give me a morsel for him; so I was obliged to ask the Butler for these Cakes and this Orange:—It cost me a good kiss on the cheek, but I know who’ll repay—Oh dear, here’s somebody coming!—
The Pavilion to the left? Yeah, that’s it.—But what if he doesn’t show up soon!—He hasn’t even taught me my lines yet—Poor thing, he hasn’t eaten anything all day; and the grumpy, useless Cook wouldn’t give me a bite for him; so I had to ask the Butler for these Cakes and this Orange:—It cost me a good kiss on the cheek, but I know who’ll make it up to me—Oh no, here comes someone!—
Enter FIGARO, disguised in a red Rocquelaure; Doctor Bartholo, Don Guzman, Basil, Antonio. Figaro imagines at first Agnes to be Susan; and, as it is too dark to see, endeavours to follow the sound of her voice, having entered while she was speaking. Agnes enters the Pavilion on the left.
Enter FIGARO, dressed in a red Rocquelaure; Doctor Bartholo, Don Guzman, Basil, Antonio. At first, Figaro confuses Agnes with Susan; and since it's too dark to see, he tries to follow the sound of her voice, having entered while she was speaking. Agnes enters the Pavilion on the left.
Figaro. I was mistaken, ’tis Agnes! (They all grope down the stage till they get round Figaro) What a clock is it?
Figaro. I was wrong, it's Agnes! (They all move down the stage until they reach Figaro) What time is it?
Antonio. Almost near the moon’s rising.
Antonio. Almost at moonrise.
Basil. What a gloomy night.
Basil. What a dreary night.
Doctor. We look like so many Conspirators.
Doctor. We all look like a bunch of conspirators.
Figaro. You understand, Gentlemen, why you are come hither—It is to be Witnesses of the Conduct of the virtuous Bride I am soon to espouse, and the honourable Lord who has graciously bestowed her upon me.
Figaro. You see, gentlemen, why you are here—it’s to witness the behavior of the virtuous bride I’m about to marry, and the esteemed lord who has kindly given her to me.
Basil. (Aside) This will be a precious Revenge.
Basil. (Aside) This will be a valuable revenge.
Doctor. Remember, Figaro, a wise Man has never any Contest with the Great; it is the Battle of Don Quixote with the Windmills; they whirl and dash you to a Distance, without once altering or retarding their Course.
Doctor. Remember, Figaro, a wise person never argues with the powerful; it’s like Don Quixote fighting windmills; they spin and toss you away without changing their path at all.
Figaro. Rather remember they have not courage to oppress any but Cowards.
Figaro. Just remember, they only have the guts to bully those who are already weak.
Doctor. He’s mad.
Doctor. He's crazy.
Guzman. Ye-e-es, he is ma-a-ad.
Guzman. Yes, he is mad.
Antonio. But what about?
Antonio. But what about it?
Basil. A certain Rendezvous;—Come this way, and I’ll tell you the whole.
Basil. A particular meeting;—Come over here, and I'll share everything with you.
Figaro. Hide yourselves hereabouts, and come running the Moment you hear me call.
Figaro. Hide around here, and come running as soon as you hear me call.
Doctor. He is turning Fool.
Doctor. He is becoming a fool.
Guzman. Ye-e-es, he’s turning foo-oo-ool—Stay and take ca-are of him.
Guzman. Y-e-s, he’s acting like a fool—Stay and take care of him.
(Exeunt.
(Exit.)
Manent Figaro and Doctor.
Manent Figaro and Doctor.
Figaro. “Oh Woman, Woman, Woman! Inconstant, weak, deceitful Woman!—But each Animal is obliged to follow the instinct of its Nature; and it is thine to betray!——What, after swearing this very Morning to remain for ever Faithful; and on the identical Day! The bridal Day!——
Figaro. “Oh Woman, Woman, Woman! Unreliable, weak, deceitful Woman!—But every creature has to follow the instinct of its nature; and yours is to betray!——What, after promising this very morning to be forever faithful; and on this same day! The wedding day!——
Doctor. “Patience.
Doctor. "Hang in there."
Figaro. “I even saw her laugh with Delight, while he read her Billet!——They think themselves secure, but perhaps they yet may be deceived.”——No, my very worthy Lord and Master, you have not got her yet.—What! Because you are a great Man, you fancy yourself a great Genius.—“Which way?—How came you to be the rich and mighty Count Almaviva? Why truly, you gave yourself the Trouble to be born! While the obscurity in which I have been cast demanded more Abilities to gain a mere Subsistence than are requisite to govern Empires. And what, most noble Count, are your Claims to Distinction, to pompous Titles, and immense Wealth, of which you are so proud, and which, by Accident, you possess? For which of your Virtues? Your Wisdom? Your Generosity? Your Justice?—The Wisdom you have acquired consists in vile Arts, to gratify vile Passions; your Generosity is lavished on your hireling Instruments, but whose Necessities make them far less Contemptible than yourself; and your Justice is the inveterate Persecution of those who have the Will and the Wit to resist your Depredations.” But this has ever been the Practice of the little Great; those they cannot degrade, they endeavour to crush.
Figaro. "I even saw her laughing with joy while he read her note! They think they're safe, but they could still be tricked."——No, my very worthy Lord and Master, you haven't won her yet.—What? Just because you're a bigshot, you think you're a genius?——“How did you become the wealthy and powerful Count Almaviva? Well, you went through the trouble of being born! While the struggles I've faced required more skill to make a basic living than it takes to rule empires. And what, most noble Count, are your qualifications for the status, fancy titles, and immense wealth that you boast about, which you got by luck? What virtues do you have? Your wisdom? Your generosity? Your justice?—The wisdom you've gained comes from shady tactics to satisfy low desires; your generosity is wasted on your paid servants, whose needs make them far less contemptible than you; and your justice is the relentless persecution of those who have the will and intelligence to resist your plundering.” But this has always been the way of the small great; those they can’t demean, they try to crush.
Doctor. Be advised, Figaro—be calm—there has ever been a Respect paid—
Doctor. Just so you know, Figaro—stay calm—there has always been a certain level of respect shown—
Figaro. To Vice—where it is not due.—Shame light on them that pay it.
Figaro. To Vice—where it isn't deserved.—Shame on those who pay it.
Doctor. Consider, he is——
Doctor. Think, he is——
Figaro. A Lord—and I am—a Man!—Yes, I am a Man, but the nocturnal Spells of that enchantress Woman, soon shall make me a Monster. “Why, what an Ass am I!—Acting here the idiot part[93] of a (Strikes his forehead)—a—Husband—Altho’ I am but half finished.”
Figaro. A Lord—and I am—a Man!—Yes, I am a Man, but the nighttime magic of that enchanting Woman will soon turn me into a Monster. "Wow, what a fool I am!—Acting like an idiot here as a (Strikes his forehead)—a—Husband—Even though I'm only halfway there."
(Agnes peers out of the Pavilion, and approaches a little way to listen.)
(Agnes looks out of the Pavilion, and moves a bit closer to listen.)
Agnes. Is that Hannibal?
Agnes. Is that Hannibal?
Doctor. I hear somebody! (Agnes hears the voice of the Doctor, and runs in again) I will retire, but if you are wise, you will wait the Event patiently; your suspicions may be unjust,—should they prove real, then shake her from you, as her Ingratitude deserves.
Doctor. I hear someone! (Agnes hears the Doctor's voice and runs in again) I'll step away, but if you’re smart, you’ll wait for the outcome patiently; your doubts might be unfounded—if they turn out to be true, then let her go, just as her betrayal deserves.
(Exit.
Exit.
Figaro. “Oh, how easy it is for the prayer mumbling Priest to bid the Wretch on the Rack suffer patiently. (Figaro listens) I hear nothing—all is silent—and dark as their designs. (Figaro pulls off his Roquelaure, and throws it on a Garden-bench) Why, what a Destiny is mine—Am I for ever doom’d to be the foot-ball of Fortune?—Son of I knew not who, stol’n I knew not how, and brought up to I knew not what, lying and thieving excepted, I had the sense, tho’ young, to despise a life so base, and fled such infernal Tutors. My Genius, tho’ cramp’d, could not be totally subdued, and I spent what little time and money I could spare in Books and Study. Alas! it was but time and money thrown away. Desolate in the world, unfriended, unprotected, my poor stock of knowledge not being whip’d into me by the masculine hic hæc hoc hand of a School-master, I could not get Bread, much less Preferment.——Disheartened by the failure of all my projects, I yet had the audacity to attempt a Comedy, but as I had the still greater audacity to attack the favorite Vice of the favorite Mistress, of the favorite Footman of the favorite Minister, I could not get it licensed.—It happened about that time, that the fashionable Question of the day was an enquiry into the real[94] and imaginary Wealth of Nations; and, as it is not necessary to possess the thing you write about, I, with lank Cheeks, pennnyless Purse, and all the simplicity of a Boy, or a Philosopher, freely described the true causes of national Poverty: when suddenly I was awaken’d in my bed at Mid-night, and entrusted to the tender care of his Catholic Majesty’s Mirmidons, whose Magic-power caused the heavy gates of an old Castle to fly open at my approach, where I was graciously received, lodged, and ornamented, according to the fashion of the place, and provided with Straw, and Bread, and Water gratis. My ardor for Liberty sufficiently cool’d. I was once more turned adrift into the wide World, with leave to provide Straw and Bread and Water for myself.—On this my second birth, I found all Madrid in Raptures, concerning a most generous Royal Edict, lately published, in favor of the Liberty of the Press: and I soon learnt, that, provided I neither spoke of the Wealth of Nations in my writings, nor of the Government, nor of Religion, nor of any Corporate-Companies, nor offended the favorite Mistress of the Minister’s favorite Footman, nor said any one thing which could be twisted into a reference, or hint, derogatory to any one Individual, who had more powerful friends than I had, I was at liberty to write, freely, all, and whatever I pleased, under the inspection of some two or three Censors!——Soon after this, a Place happened to be vacant, which required a person well acquainted with Calculation; I offered my Services; my Abilities were not questioned; I waited, in anxious expectation of the Event, and, in three days, learnt it had been bestowed, two days before, upon a Dancing-master.—Persecuted[95] by Creditors, tired of starving, and unable, through the feebleness of Youth to sustain so unequal a Struggle, I had the weakness, at last, to sink before Temptation, and set up a Pharaoh Bank. And now, for once, behold the Scene changed! See me equally familiar with Lords as with their Lacquies! Every door was open to me! Every hand held out! But, notwithstanding my desire to be Something in this world, my detestation of the brazen Effrontery, profound Ignorance, and insupportable Insolence of these fashionable Friends of Nobility was so innate that I found I could better endure all the Miseries of Poverty than the Disgrace and Disgust of such Society.—Quitting, therefore, with contempt this new Trade, and leaving false Shame behind me, as a burthen too heavy for a Foot-passenger, I once more took up my strap and hone, and travelled for employment from Town to Town.——At Seville I found a Lord mad to marry his Mistress; my Wit procured him what his could not, a Wife; and, in return, he gratefully endeavours to Seduce mine—Strange concatenation of circumstance! My Parents all at once claim me!—’Tis he, ’tis she, ’tis me, ’tis—I don’t know who!—I came into the world without my Knowledge, and I shall go out on’t without my Will; and thus do I continue to torment myself about this Being of mine, without understanding what this Being is, what it was, what it shall be, whence it came, where it is, or whither it shall go.—I only know it to be a compound of Contradictions! A little, wise, foolish Animal, ardent in the pursuit of Pleasure, capricious through Vanity, laborious from Necessity, but[96] indolent by Choice. After having exhausted every Art for enjoyment, and every Profession for a livelihood, I found myself intoxicated by a heavenly Illusion, that has vanish’d at my approach!—Vanished!—And is it vanish’d?”—Oh Susan! Susan!
Figaro. “Oh, how easy it is for the praying priest to tell the wretch on the rack to just hang in there. (Figaro listens) I hear nothing—all is silent and as dark as their schemes. (Figaro pulls off his cloak and throws it on a garden bench) What a fate I have—Am I forever stuck being a plaything of Fortune?—Son of I don’t even know who, taken I don’t know how, and raised without knowing what, aside from lying and stealing, I had the sense, even as a kid, to reject such a miserable life and ran away from those awful mentors. My talent, though stifled, couldn’t be completely squashed, and I spent what little time and money I had on books and study. Sadly, it was just time and money wasted. Alone in the world, friendless, unprotected, my minimal knowledge not beaten into me by some harsh teacher, I couldn’t make a living, let alone gain any favor.——Disheartened by the failure of my plans, I still had the guts to attempt a comedy, but when I dared to criticize the beloved flaws of the favorite mistress of the favorite servant of the favorite minister, I couldn’t get it approved. Around that time, the hot topic was a debate about real versus imagined national wealth; and since you don’t have to own what you write about, I, with my gaunt cheeks, empty wallet, and the innocence of a boy, or a philosopher, openly described the true causes of national poverty. Suddenly, I was jolted from my bed at midnight and taken under the compassionate care of the King’s henchmen, whose strange powers made the heavy gates of an old castle fly open at my approach, where I was graciously welcomed, housed, and treated according to the place's customs, receiving straw, bread, and water for free. My thirst for freedom certainly died down. I was thrown back into the wide world, tasked with providing straw, bread, and water for myself.——Upon this second birth, I found all of Madrid in excitement over a new royal decree favoring press freedom: and I quickly learned that, as long as I didn’t write about national wealth, the government, religion, corporations, or offend the favorite mistress of the minister’s favorite servant, or say anything that could be twisted into an insult against anyone with more powerful connections than me, I was free to write whatever I wanted, under the watchful eye of a couple of censors!——Shortly after that, a position opened up that required someone skilled in calculations; I offered my services; no one questioned my abilities; I waited, anxiously looking forward to the outcome, and, three days later, found out it had been given, two days earlier, to a dance teacher.——Persecuted by creditors, tired of starving, and unable, due to the fragility of youth, to endure such an uneven struggle, I eventually gave in to temptation and started a Pharaoh Bank. And now, for once, look how the scene has changed! I was as at home with the lords as I was with their lackeys! Every door was open to me! Every hand was outstretched! But, despite my desire to matter in this world, my hatred for the brazen arrogance, profound ignorance, and unbearable rudeness of these fashionable friends of nobility was so strong that I found I could endure all the miseries of poverty better than the shame and disgust of their company.——So, turning away from this new trade in contempt and leaving behind a false shame that felt too burdensome for someone like me, I picked up my bag again and traveled from town to town in search of work.——In Seville, I found a lord eager to marry his mistress; my wit got him what his wealth couldn’t— a wife; and in return, he gratefully tried to seduce mine—what a strange twist of fate! Suddenly, my parents claim me!—It’s he, it’s she, it’s me, it’s—I don’t know who!—I came into this world without knowing, and I’ll leave it against my will; and so I continue to torment myself over this existence of mine, without understanding what this existence is, what it was, what it will be, where it came from, where it is, or where it shall go.——The only thing I know is that it’s a mix of contradictions! A little, wise, foolish being, eager for pleasure, changeable in vanity, hardworking out of necessity but lazy by choice. After trying every means of enjoyment and profession for a living, I found myself intoxicated by a heavenly illusion, which disappeared as I approached!—Vanished!—And has it really vanished?”—Oh Susan! Susan!
(Figaro sinks melancholy upon the garden-seat; but being suddenly roused by a noise, wraps himself up in his Rocquelaure.
(Figaro sinks into a gloomy mood on the garden bench; but when he's suddenly startled by a noise, he wraps himself up in his Rocquelaure.)
Enter softly, in each other’s dress, the COUNTESS and SUSAN, followed by MARCELINA.
Enter quietly, dressed as each other, the COUNTESS and SUSAN, followed by MARCELINA.
Susan. So Figaro is to be here. (In an under voice)
Susan. So Figaro is going to be here. (In a low voice)
Marcelina. He is here.
Marcelina. He's here.
Susan. Thus one is come to lay the Springe, and the other to seize the Game.
Susan. So one has come to set the trap, and the other to catch the prey.
Marcelina. I will go and hide myself in this Pavilion, where I shall hear all.
Marcelina. I'm going to hide in this pavilion, where I can hear everything.
(Exit into the Pavilion on the left.)
(Exit to the Pavilion on the left.)
Susan. We may begin. (Speaks louder) If my Lady does not want me, I will walk and enjoy the fresh air.
Susan. We can start. (Speaks louder) If my Lady doesn't want me, I'll take a walk and enjoy the fresh air.
Figaro. Oh, the Cocatrice.
Figaro. Oh, the Cockatrice.
Countess. It may give thee cold.
Countess. It might chill you.
Susan. Oh no, my Lady.
Susan. Oh no, my lady.
Figaro. Oh no! She’ll not take cold to-night. (Aside).
Figaro. Oh no! She’s not going to catch a cold tonight. (Aside).
Susan retires a little towards the Pavilion on the left; Hannibal is heard singing, and, as he enters, perceives the Countess, in Susan’s dress.
Susan steps back a bit towards the Pavilion on the left; Hannibal can be heard singing, and as he walks in, he notices the Countess, wearing Susan’s dress.
Countess. Let me go. (In a feigned voice.)
Countess. Let me go. (In a pretend voice.)
Page. Come, Come; don’t be so coy. I know it is not Figaro you are waiting for, it is my Lord the Count—What! Did not I hear, this Morning, when I was behind the great Chair?
Page. Come on, don’t be so shy. I know you’re not waiting for Figaro; you’re waiting for my Lord the Count—What! Didn’t I hear you this morning when I was behind the big chair?
Susan. (Aside). The babbling little Villain.
Susan. (Aside). The chatty little troublemaker.
Enter the COUNT behind, and hears the Page.
Enter the COUNT from behind, as he hears the Page.
Count. Is not that somebody with Susan?—(Advances close up to them, and draws back in a fury).—’Tis that infernal Page again.
Count. Is someone with Susan?—(Advances close to them, then steps back in anger).—It's that damn Page again.
(Susan keeps out of the way and silently laughing.)
(Susan stays out of the way and silently laughs.)
Page. ’Tis in vain to say no:—Since thou art going to be the Representative of the Countess, I am determined to give the one kiss for thyself, and a hundred for thy beauteous Lady.
Page. It’s useless to say no:—Since you're going to be the Countess's Representative, I've decided to give you one kiss for yourself, and a hundred for your beautiful Lady.
Susan. (Aside). “As impudent as a Page, says the Proverb.”
Susan. (Aside). "As bold as a page boy, as the saying goes."
(The Countess draws back to avoid being kissed by the Page, and the Count advances and presents himself in her place; the Page feels the rough beard of the Count, and suddenly retreats, crying in an under voice)—Oh, the Devil!—The Count again!
(The Countess pulls back to avoid the Page's kiss, and the Count steps forward to take her place; the Page brushes against the Count's rough beard and quickly pulls away, muttering under his breath)—Oh, the Devil!—The Count again!
(Exit Page into the Pavilion on the left.)
(Exit Page into the Pavilion on the left.)
(While this passes, Figaro likewise advances to drive the Page from Susan; meanwhile the Count, on the Page’s supposed next approach, prepares to give him a proper reception).
(As this unfolds, Figaro also moves in to send the Page away from Susan; at the same time, the Count, anticipating the Page's next arrival, gets ready to welcome him properly).
Count. (Thinking he speaks to the Page). Since you are so fond of kissing, take that. (Gives Figaro a severe box on the ear).
Count. (Thinking he speaks to the Page). Since you're so into kissing, here you go. (Gives Figaro a hard slap on the ear).
Figaro. I have paid for listening. (Susan cannot contain herself, but bursts out a laughing).
Figaro. I've paid for this conversation. (Susan can't hold it in and starts laughing).
Count. (Hears her laugh). Why this is inconceiveable!—Do such Salutations make the impudent Rascal laugh?
Count. (Hears her laugh). I can’t believe this!—Do such greetings actually make that rude jerk laugh?
Figaro. It would be strange if he should cry this time. (Aside).
Figaro. It would be weird if he cried this time. (Aside).
(Count and Countess approach).
Count and Countess arrive.
Count. But let us not lose the precious moments, my charming Susan!—Let these Kisses speak my ardour! (Kisses the Countess several times with rapture).
Count. But let's not waste these precious moments, my lovely Susan!—Let these kisses show my passion! (Kisses the Countess several times with excitement).
Figaro. (Aside, and beating his forehead). Oh! Oh! Oh!
Figaro. (Aside, and hitting his forehead). Oh! Oh! Oh!
Count. Why dost thou tremble?
Count. Why do you tremble?
Countess. (Continuing her feigned voice). Because I am afraid.
Countess. (Continuing her affected tone). Because I'm scared.
Count. Thou seemest to have got a cold. (Takes the Countess’s hand between his own, and amorously strokes and kisses her fingers). What a sweet, delicate, Angel’s hand!—How smooth and soft!—How long and small the fingers!—What pleasure in the touch!—Ah! How different is this from the Countess’s hand!—
Count. You seem to have caught a cold. (Takes the Countess’s hand between his own, and affectionately strokes and kisses her fingers). What a lovely, delicate, Angel’s hand!—How smooth and soft!—How long and slender the fingers!—What joy in the touch!—Ah! How different this is from the Countess’s hand!—
Countess. (Sighing). And yet you loved her once.
Countess. (Sighing). And still, you loved her once.
Count. Yes—Yes—I did so—But three Years of better Acquaintance has made the Marriage-state so respectable—And then Wives are so loving—when they do love, that is—that one is surprised when in search of Pleasure, to find Satiety.
Count. Yes—Yes—I did—But three years of knowing each other better has made marriage seem so respectable. And wives are so loving—when they do love, that is—that it's surprising to find emptiness while looking for pleasure.
Countess. Pleasure?—Love!
Countess. Pleasure?—Love!
Countess. ’Tis my Duty to oblige my Lord.
Countess. It’s my duty to serve my Lord.
Figaro. Her Duty!—
Figaro. Her Responsibility!—
Count. Yes—Women’s Duties are unlimited—They owe all—Men nothing.
Count. Yes—Women's responsibilities are endless—they owe everything—men owe nothing.
Countess. Nothing?
Countess. Nothing at all?
Count. It is not our Faults; ’tis the law of Nature—And then Wives think to ensure our fidelity by being always Wives—Whereas they should sometimes become——
Count. It's not our faults; it's the law of nature—And then wives think they can guarantee our loyalty by always being wives—When they should sometimes become——
Countess. What?
Countess. What’s up?
Count. Our Mistresses——I hope thou wilt not forget this Lesson.
Count. Our Mistresses—I hope you won't forget this lesson.
Countess. Oh no, indeed, not I.
Countess. Oh no, definitely not me.
Susan. (Aloud). Nor I.
Susan. (Spoken). Me neither.
Figaro. (Aloud). Nor I.
Figaro. (Out loud). Neither do I.
Count. (Astonished). Are there Echoes here?
Count. (Astonished). Are there echoes here?
Countess. Oh, yes.
Countess. Oh, for sure.
Count. And now, my sweet Susan, receive the Portion I promised thee. (Gives a purse and puts a ring upon her finger)—And continue likewise to wear this Ring for my sake.
Count. And now, my dear Susan, here’s the portion I promised you. (Gives a purse and puts a ring on her finger)—And please keep this ring on for my sake.
Countess. Susan accepts your Favors.
Countess. Susan accepts your favors.
Figaro. (Aside). Was there ever so faithless a Hussey?
Figaro. (Aside). Has there ever been such a unfaithful partner?
Susan. (Aside). These riches are all for us! (Still keeps chuckling very heartily at what is going forwards.)
Susan. (Aside). All this wealth is for us! (Still laughs joyfully at what’s happening.)
Countess. I perceive Torches.
Countess. I see torches.
Count. They are preparatory to thy Nuptials. (the Countess pretends to be afraid). Come, come, let us retire for a moment into the Pavilion.
Count. They are preparing for your wedding. (the Countess pretends to be afraid). Come on, let’s step into the Pavilion for a moment.
Countess. What! In the dark?
Countess. What! In the dark?
Count. Why not? There are no Spirits.
Count. Why not? There are no spirits.
Count. (Raising his voice majesterially). Who goes there!
Count. (Raising his voice authoritatively). Who's there!
Figaro. A man.
Figaro. A dude.
Count. (Aside to the Countess). It’s Figaro!
Count. (Aside to the Countess). It’s Figaro!
(The Countess enters the Pavilion on the right hand and the Count retires).
(The Countess walks into the Pavilion on the right, and the Count leaves.)
Figaro. (Desperate). They are gone in. (Walks about). Let her go.—Let her go!
Figaro. (Desperate). They’ve gone inside. (Walks around). Let her go.—Let her go!
Susan. (Aside.) Thou shalt pay presently for these fine Suspicions. (Susan advances and mimics the voice of the Countess). Who is that?
Susan. (Aside.) You're going to pay for these wild suspicions soon enough. (Susan steps forward and mimics the Countess's voice). Who's that?
Figaro. ’Tis the Countess (Aside).—What lucky Chance conducted you hither, Madam—You know not what Scenes are this moment transacting.
Figaro. It's the Countess (Aside).—What a lucky chance brought you here, Madam—you have no idea what’s happening right now.
Susan. Oh yes, but I do, Figaro.
Susan. Oh yes, I really do, Figaro.
Figaro. What! That the Count and my very virtuous Bride are this moment in yonder Pavilion Madam!
Figaro. What! The Count and my very virtuous Bride are right now in that Pavilion over there, Madam!
Susan. (Aside). Very well, my Gentleman!—I know more than thou dost.
Susan. (Aside). Alright, my good man!—I know more than you do.
Figaro. And will you not be revenged?
Figaro. Aren't you going to get your revenge?
Susan. Oh yes, we always have our Revenge in our own power.
Susan. Oh yes, we can always take our revenge whenever we want.
Figaro. (Aside). What does she mean?—Perhaps what I suspect—Why that would be a glorious Retaliation.—(To Susan.) There is no Means but one, Madam, of revenging such Wrongs; that now presents itself.
Figaro. (Aside). What does she mean?—Maybe it’s what I think—That would be an amazing comeback.—(To Susan.) There’s only one way, Madam, to get back for such wrongs; it’s right in front of us.
Susan. (Jealous) What does the good-for-nothing Fellow mean? (Speaks in a tone of compliance to Figaro). Does it Figaro?
Susan. (Jealous) What does that useless guy mean? (Speaks in a tone of compliance to Figaro). Does it, Figaro?
Figaro. Pardon my Presumption, Madam! On any other occasion, the Respect I bear your Ladyship would keep me silent, but on the present I dare encounter all! (Falls on his knees). Oh, excuse,[101] forgive me, Madam; but let not the precious moments slip!—Grant me your hand.
Figaro. Sorry for being so bold, Madam! Normally, my respect for you would keep me quiet, but right now, I can’t hold back! (Falls on his knees). Oh, please, forgive me, Madam; but don’t let these precious moments pass us by!—Please give me your hand.
Susan. (Unable any longer to contain herself gives him a slap on the face). Take it.
Susan. (Cannot hold back any longer, she slaps him on the face). Take it.
Figaro. I have it, I think!—The Devil! This is the Day of Stripes!
Figaro. I got it, I think!—Wow! Today is the Day of Stripes!
Susan. Susan gives it thee (as soon as Figaro hears it is Susan, his satisfaction is so extreme, he laughs very heartily, and keeps laughing all the while she keeps beating him) and that, and that, and that, and that for thy Insolence—And that for thy Jealousy—And that for thy Infidelity.
Susan. Susan hands it to you (as soon as Figaro hears it’s Susan, his satisfaction is so overwhelming, he laughs out loud and keeps laughing while she keeps hitting him) and that, and that, and that, and that for your arrogance—And that for your jealousy—And that for your unfaithfulness.
(Susan out of breath, Figaro still laughing.)
(Susan is out of breath, while Figaro continues to laugh.)
Figaro. Oh happy Figaro—Take thy Revenge, my dear, kind, good Angel; Never did Man or Martyr suffer with such Extacy!
Figaro. Oh happy Figaro—Get your revenge, my dear, kind, good Angel; Never has anyone suffered with such ecstasy!
Susan. Don’t tell me of your Extacy! How durst you, you good for nothing, base, false-hearted Man, make love to me, supposing me the Countess.
Susan. Don't tell me about your excitement! How dare you, you worthless, low, deceitful man, try to woo me, thinking I’m the Countess.
Figaro. I must bring myself off, (aside)—Dost think I could mistake the music of my Susan’s Voice?
Figaro. I have to collect myself, (aside)—Do you think I could mix up the sound of Susan’s voice?
Susan. What, you pretend you knew me then?
Susan. What, you act like you knew me back then?
Figaro. Pretend! Canst thou doubt it?
Figaro. Just pretend! Can you doubt it?
Susan. And this was a Trick upon me!—But I’ll be revenged.
Susan. So this was a trick played on me!—But I’ll get my revenge.
Figaro. Talk not of Revenge, my Love, but tell me what blest Angel sent thee hither, and how thou camest by this Disguise, which so fully proves thy Innocence!
Figaro. Don't talk about revenge, my love, but tell me which blessed angel brought you here and how you ended up in this disguise, which clearly shows your innocence!
Susan. “I could find in my Heart not to tell thee; but know, to thy Confusion, it is my Lady’s; and that, coming to catch one Fox, we have entrapped two!
Susan. “I could hold back from telling you; but just so you know, to your surprise, it belongs to my lady; and that, in trying to catch one fox, we’ve caught two!
Figaro. “But who has taken the other?
Figaro. "But who took the others?"
Susan. “His Wife.
Susan. “His Spouse.
Figaro. “His Wife!—Go and hang thyself, Figaro—Go and hang thyself, for wanting the Wit to divine this Plot!—And has all this intriguing been about his Wife?
Figaro. “His wife!—Go kill yourself, Figaro—Go and kill yourself for not having the sense to figure out this scheme!—And all this plotting has been about his wife?”
Susan. “Yes, about his Wife.
Susan. “Yes, about his wife.
Figaro. (a little suspicious) “But who did the Page kiss?
Figaro. (a bit suspicious) “But who did the Page kiss?
Susan. “The Count.
Susan. "The Count."
Figaro. “The Count! Ha! ha! ha! that is excellent, (Resuming his gravity) But who did the Count kiss?
Figaro. “The Count! Ha! ha! ha! That's great, (Becoming serious again) But who did the Count kiss?
Susan. “The Countess.
Susan. “The Countess.”
Figaro. “Ay, but who did he kiss this Morning——behind the great Chair?
Figaro. “Yeah, but who did he kiss this morning—behind the big chair?
Susan. (Gravely) “Nobody.
Susan. (Seriously) “No one.
Figaro. “Art thou—quite sure?”
Figaro. “Are you—absolutely sure?”
Susan. (Holding out her Hand) Dost thou want another Proof?
Susan. (Holding out her Hand) Do you want another proof?
Figaro. Ah! Thine are but proofs of Love—That of the Count, indeed, was not so gentle.
Figaro. Ah! These are just signs of Love—The Count's, though, wasn't so gentle.
Enter COUNT behind.
Join COUNT inside.
Count. ’St—’st! Susan!—Susan!
Count. Hush—hush! Susan!—Susan!
Figaro. (Aside to Susan) A lucky thought strikes me; prithee second me, Susan, (Speaks in a feigned Voice, falls on his Knees and kisses Susan’s Hand)—Ah Madam! Let us not longer converse of Love, but enjoy it’s Treasures.
Figaro. (Aside to Susan) I just had a great idea; please back me up, Susan, (Speaks in a feigned Voice, falls on his Knees and kisses Susan’s Hand)—Ah Madam! Let’s stop talking about love and start enjoying its rewards.
Count. What’s here! A Man on his Knees to the Countess!—(Feels for his Sword, they keep silently laughing) And I unarm’d!
Count. What’s going on! A man on his knees to the countess!—(Feels for his sword, they keep silently laughing) And I’m unarmed!
Figaro. (Acting the Petit Maitre) Upon my honour, Madam, I could not have supposed Timidity should make you hesitate a moment.
Figaro. (Acting the Petit Maitre) Honestly, Madam, I never thought that shyness would cause you to hesitate even for a moment.
Count. (Furiously) So this is our Dressing-room Gentleman, at last! I shall know all at least, now—(Figaro kisses her hand again.) Oh Rage! Oh Hell!
Count. (Furiously) So this is our dressing room, gentleman, finally! I’ll at least get the whole story now—(Figaro kisses her hand again.) Oh, rage! Oh, hell!
Susan. How delightfully he swears.
Susan. How charming he swears.
Figaro. (Figaro and Susan still inwardly laughing) Quickly then, Madam, let us repair the wrong which Love this Morning suffered at the impertinent intrusion of your Lord.
Figaro. (Figaro and Susan still inwardly laughing) Quickly then, Madam, let’s fix the injustice that Love faced this morning from your Lord's rude interruption.
Count. This is not to be borne.
Count. This is not okay.
(Darts between them, seizes Figaro by the Collar, while Susan escapes into the Pavilion on the left.)
(Darts between them, grabs Figaro by the collar, while Susan slips into the pavilion on the left.)
Figaro (Pretends amazement) My Lord!
Figaro (Pretends to be amazed) My Lord!
Count. How! Rascal! And is it you!—Hollo—Hollo—Who hears?
Count. How! You troublemaker! Is it really you!—Hey—Hey—Who’s listening?
Enter blundering in the dark, and in a great hurry, the COURIER, who had been to Seville after the Page.
Entering clumsily in the dark and in a big rush was the COURIER, who had just returned from Seville after the Page.
Courier. Here!—Here!—Here am I, my Lord! Just arrived from Seville! But he is not there! I might as well have sought for this Page in my pocket! Here is the Packet again.
Courier. Here!—Here!—Here I am, my Lord! Just got back from Seville! But he’s not here! I might as well have looked for this Page in my pocket! Here’s the Packet again.
Count. Stand out of the way, Rascal——Hollo!—Where are my People? Lights! Lights!
Count. Get out of the way, Rascal——Hollo!—Where is everyone? Lights! Lights!
Courier. What’s my Lord afraid of? Is there not Mr. Figaro and I?
Courier. What’s my Lord scared of? Isn’t Mr. Figaro and I here?
Enter Flambeaux, Don GUZMAN, Dr. BARTHOLO, ANTONIO, BASIL, and Servants.
Enter Flambeaux, Don GUZMAN, Dr. BARTHOLO, ANTONIO, BASIL, and Servants.
Count. (To the Servants) Guard that Door and some of you seize this Fellow.
Count. (To the Servants) Keep an eye on that door and some of you grab this guy.
Figaro. You command, with absolute Authority, over all present, my Lord, except yourself.
Figaro. You have complete control over everyone here, my Lord, except for yourself.
Count. “The Villain’s impenetrable, cool Impudence is intolerable.
Count. “The Villain’s unapproachable, calm audacity is unbearable.
Figaro. “We are not Soldiers, that we should kill one another without Malice: for my part, I like to know why I am angry.”
Figaro. “We're not soldiers, so why should we hurt each other without reason? Personally, I like to understand why I’m upset.”
Count. Be pleased, Sir, to declare, before this Company, who the—the—Woman is that just now ran into that Pavilion.
Count. Please, Sir, tell us, in front of everyone here, who the woman is that just ran into that Pavilion.
Figaro. Into that—(Going to cross to the Pavilion on the right.)
Figaro. Heading to the—(Going to walk over to the Pavilion on the right.)
Count. (Stopping him) No, prevaricating Fiend; into that. (Pointing to the other.)
Count. (Stopping him) No, deceptive villain; into that. (Pointing to the other.)
Figaro. Ah! That alters the Case.
Figaro. Ah! That changes everything.
Count. Answer, or—
Count. Respond, or—
Figaro. “The Lady that escaped into that Pavilion?
Figaro. “The woman who ran away into that pavilion?
Count. “Ay, Demon, the Lady.”
Count. “Yeah, Demon, the Lady.”
Figaro. The Lady “that escaped into that Pavilion,” is a young Lady to whom my Lord once paid his Addresses, but who, happening to love me more than my Betters, has this day yielded me the Preference.
Figaro. The Lady “that escaped into that Pavilion,” is a young woman whom my Lord once pursued, but since she happens to love me more than my superiors, she has chosen me today.
Count. The Preference!—The Preference!—he does not lie at least.——Yes, Gentlemen, what he confesses, I pledge my Honour I just have heard from the very mouth of his Accomplice!
Count. The Preference!—The Preference!—he doesn’t lie at least.——Yes, Gentlemen, what he admits, I swear on my Honor I just heard from the very mouth of his Partner in crime!
Guzman. His Accomplice!
Guzman. His Partner in Crime!
Count. Come forth, Madam! (Enters the Pavilion.)
Count. Come on, Madam! (Enters the Pavilion.)
Basil. Which of these two has made a—Gentleman of the other.
Basil. Which of these two has made a—Gentleman out of the other?
Figaro. Perhaps neither.
Figaro. Maybe not.
Count. (In the Pavilion.) Come forth, I say, shew yourself. (Enter, dragging out the PAGE, still speaking, and not looking at him till he gets on a line with the rest of the Company.) Happily, Madam, there is no Pledge of a Union, now so justly detested.——
Count. (In the Pavilion.) Step forward, I say, show yourself. (Enter, dragging out the PAGE, still speaking, and not looking at him until he’s in line with the rest of the Company.) Luckily, Madam, there’s no obligation to a union, now so rightly hated.——
Omnes. The Page!
Everyone. The Page!
Guzman. (After all the rest.) The Pa-a-age!
Guzman. After everything else. The Page!
Count. Again! And again! And everlastingly this damn’d, diabolical Page. (Page flies to the other side of the stage.) You shall find, however, he was not alone.
Count. Again! And again! And forever this cursed, wicked Page. (Page runs to the other side of the stage.) But you’ll see, he wasn’t alone.
Page. Ah, no! My lot would have been hard indeed then.
Page. Oh no! My situation would have been really tough back then.
Count. Enter Antonio, and drag the guilty Thing before her Judge.
Count. Antonio enters and brings the guilty person before her judge.
Antonio. (In the Pavilion.) Come, Madam, you must come out; I must not let you go since my Lord knows you are here.
Antonio. (In the Pavilion.) Come on, Madam, you need to come out; I can’t let you leave since my Lord knows you're here.
Enter with his Daughter, AGNES.
Enter with his daughter, AGNES.
Omnes. Agnes!
Everyone. Agnes!
Guzman. A-A-Agnes!
Guzman. A-A-Agnes!
Antonio. Odzooks, my Lord, its a pleasant Trick, enough, to send me in, before all these good Folks, for my Daughter.
Antonio. Wow, my Lord, it's quite a clever move, to send me in first, in front of all these nice people, for my daughter.
Count. I’ll find her, I warrant. (Going.)
Count. I’ll find her, I promise. (Going.)
Doctor. (Stopping the Count.) Pardon me, my Lord, but you are too angry at present; let me go.
Doctor. (Stopping the Count.) Excuse me, my Lord, but you seem too upset right now; please let me go.
(Exit Doctor to the Pavilion.)
Exit Doctor to the Pavilion.
Guzman. This Cause is very perplex’d.
Guzman. This situation is very confusing.
Doctor. (Entering with Marcelina.) Fear nothing, Madam, fear nothing.
Doctor. (Entering with Marcelina.) Don't be afraid, Madam, don't be afraid.
Omnes. Marcelina!
Everyone. Marcelina!
Figaro. My Mother too! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Figaro. My mom too! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Count. Where then is this Daughter of Infamy thus evades my just Fury?
Count. Where is this Daughter of Infamy who is avoiding my rightful anger?
Enter SUSAN, with her Fan before her face.
Enter SUSAN, holding her fan in front of her face.
Here she comes, at last; bearing her own Shame and my Dishonour. (Susan kneels to him, still hiding her Face.)
Here she comes, finally; carrying her own Shame and my Dishonor. (Susan kneels to him, still hiding her Face.)
Omnes. Pardon, pardon, gracious Lord!
Everyone. Sorry, sorry, kind Lord!
Count. No! No! No! (They all fall on their knees.) No! No! Were the World to kneel I would be deaf.
Count. No! No! No! (They all drop to their knees.) No! No! If the whole world kneels, I would still be deaf.
Enter the COUNTESS from the Pavilion on the right, and kneels to the Count, whose back is turned to her.
Enter the COUNTESS from the Pavilion on the right and kneels to the Count, who has his back turned to her.
Countess. At least I will make one of the Number.
Countess. At least I will be part of the group.
(Susan drops her fan, the Count hears the voice of the Countess, looks round, and suddenly conceives the whole Trick they have been playing him. All the Company burst into a laugh: the Count’s shame, confusion, &c.)
(Susan drops her fan, the Count hears the Countess’s voice, looks around, and suddenly realizes the entire trick they’ve been playing on him. Everyone bursts into laughter: the Count’s shame, confusion, etc.)
Guzman. (Laughing stupidly) Ha! ha! ha! ha! ’Tis the Countess!
Guzman. (Laughing foolishly) Ha! ha! ha! ha! It’s the Countess!
Count. (With great humility.) And—is it you my Lady?
Count. (With great humility.) So, is it really you, my Lady?
Countess. (Inclines her body in token of Affirmation.)
Countess. (Bows her body as a sign of agreement.)
Count. (Returning her bow with great confusion.) Ah!—Yes!—Yes! A generous pardon—tho’ unmerited.——
Count. (Returning her bow with great confusion.) Ah!—Yes!—Yes! A generous pardon—though undeserved.——
Countess. Were you in my place, you would exclaim, No! No! No! But I grant it without a single Stipulation.
Countess. If you were in my position, you would be shouting, No! No! No! But I accept it without any conditions.
Susan. And I.
Susan and me.
Figaro. And I.—There are Echoes here.
Figaro. And me.—There are Echoes here.
Count. (Surprised) I perceive—I perceive——I have been rightly served.
Count. (Surprised) I see—I see—I have been served correctly.
Countess. Here, Susan, here is the Purse and Ring, which my Lord gave thee. He will remember thy sweet delicate Fingers, so long and so small.
Countess. Here, Susan, here is the purse and ring that my Lord gave you. He will remember your sweet, delicate fingers, so long and so slender.
Susan. Thank your Lordship—Here Figaro.
Susan. Thank you, Your Lordship—Here, Figaro.
(Gives him the Purse.
Gives him the bag.
Figaro. It was devilish hard to get at—
Figaro. It was really tough to get to—
Count. (To Susan) And the Letter you wrote—
Count. (To Susan) And the letter you wrote—
Susan. Was dictated by my Lady.
Susan. Was directed by my Lady.
Count. (Smiling good naturedly.) Well, well! I am an Answer in her Debt.
Count. (Smiling kindly.) Well, well! I owe her an answer.
Figaro. Thus every Man shall have his own.
Figaro. So every person will have their own.
Bounce. And shall we throw the Stocking?
Bounce. So, should we toss the Stocking?
Countess. There is the Garter.
Countess. There's the Garter.
(Throws down the Riband Hannibal had stolen in the Morning; Bounce is going to stoop for it, and the Page pushes him back.)
(Throws down the ribbon Hannibal had taken in the morning; Bounce is about to pick it up, and the Page pushes him away.)
Page. This is my Right, and if any one dare dispute it with me——
Page. This is my right, and if anyone dares to challenge it with me——
Count. Indeed! Mr. Officer—So bold a Champion already!—Pray how did your Valour like the Box on the Ear I gave you just now?
Count. Absolutely! Officer—Such a brave champion already!—How did you feel about the slap in the face I just gave you?
Page. (With his Hand to his Sword) Me! My Colonel?
Page. (With his Hand to his Sword) Me? My Colonel?
Figaro. Which I kindly received.
Figaro. Which I graciously received.
Count. Thou!
Count. You!
Figaro. I—And thus do the Great distribute Justice.
Figaro. I—And this is how the powerful administer justice.
Count. (laughing) Well, Mr. President, (Don Guzman instantly calls up all his Wisdom on finding himself addressed) what do you think of all these things?
Count. (laughing) So, Mr. President, (Don Guzman instantly gathers all his wisdom upon being addressed) what do you think about all of this?
Guzman. Thi-ink, my Lord? (Considers) I—I think that—I do-o-on’t know what to think.
Guzman. Do you think, my Lord? (Considers) I—I think that—I don’t know what to think.
Figaro. I think, a few such Days as this would form an excellent Ambassador—But lately I was a poor, deserted, solitary Being, in this wide World, and now I have Gold, Relations, and a handsome Wife——
Figaro. I believe that a few days like this would make a great Ambassador—But not long ago, I was a lonely, abandoned person in this vast world, and now I have money, family, and a beautiful wife——
Doctor. And Friends will flock in abundance.
Doctor. And Friends will gather in large numbers.
Figaro. Do you think so?
Figaro. Do you think so?
Doctor. Oh I know so.
Doctor. Oh, I'm sure of it.
Figaro. Well, let them, they shall be welcome to all I have—My Wife and my Wealth excepted.
Figaro. Fine, let them. They'll be welcome to everything I have—except for my wife and my wealth.
Susan.
Susan.
THE END.
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
TRANSCRIBER NOTE
A few obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.
A few clear typos and punctuation mistakes have been corrected after thoroughly comparing them with other instances in the text and checking external sources.
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.
Except for the changes mentioned below, all misspellings in the text and any inconsistent or outdated language have been kept as is.
Pg 10: Speaker name ‘Marcelino’ replaced by ‘Marcelina’.
Pg 17: ‘Gardiner’s daughter’ replaced by ‘Gardener’s daughter’.
Pg 17: ‘my drunken Gardiner’ replaced by ‘my drunken Gardener’.
Pg 18: ‘wish hm so much’ replaced by ‘wish him so much’.
Pg 21: ‘young Hanibal the’ replaced by ‘young Hannibal the’.
Pg 25: ‘COUNTESS’s Bed-Chmber’ replaced by ‘COUNTESS’s Bed-Chamber’.
Pg 27: ‘by the Pavillion’ replaced by ‘by the Pavilion’.
Pg 29: ‘will not, Marcellina’ replaced by ‘will not, Marcelina’.
Pg 43: ‘you malicicious little’ replaced by ‘you malicious little’.
Pg 45: ‘the Gardiner, with’ replaced by ‘the Gardener, with’.
Pg 48: ‘and eadeavours to’ replaced by ‘and endeavours to’.
Pg 50: Speaker name ‘Antanio’ replaced by ‘Antonio’.
Pg 64: ‘Angelica-Mustacio’ replaced by ‘Angelica-Mustachio’.
Pg 64: ‘Gentleman who are’ replaced by ‘Gentlemen who are’.
Pg 66: ‘Again, the the word’ replaced by ‘Again, the word’.
Pg 76: ‘honest ple’ replaced by ‘honest people’.
Pg 83: ‘Girl, ealed with’ replaced by ‘Girl, sealed with’.
Pg 90: Missing speaker name ‘Agnes’ inserted.
Pg 92: ‘those who who have’ replaced by ‘those who have’.
Pg 10: Speaker name ‘Marcelino’ replaced by ‘Marcelina’.
Pg 17: ‘Gardiner’s daughter’ replaced by ‘Gardener’s daughter’.
Pg 17: ‘my drunken Gardiner’ replaced by ‘my drunken Gardener’.
Pg 18: ‘wish hm so much’ replaced by ‘wish him so much’.
Pg 21: ‘young Hanibal the’ replaced by ‘young Hannibal the’.
Pg 25: ‘COUNTESS’s Bed-Chmber’ replaced by ‘COUNTESS’s Bed-Chamber’.
Pg 27: ‘by the Pavillion’ replaced by ‘by the Pavilion’.
Pg 29: ‘will not, Marcellina’ replaced by ‘will not, Marcelina’.
Pg 43: ‘you malicicious little’ replaced by ‘you malicious little’.
Pg 45: ‘the Gardiner, with’ replaced by ‘the Gardener, with’.
Pg 48: ‘and eadeavours to’ replaced by ‘and endeavours to’.
Pg 50: Speaker name ‘Antanio’ replaced by ‘Antonio’.
Pg 64: ‘Angelica-Mustacio’ replaced by ‘Angelica-Mustachio’.
Pg 64: ‘Gentleman who are’ replaced by ‘Gentlemen who are’.
Pg 66: ‘Again, the the word’ replaced by ‘Again, the word’.
Pg 76: ‘honest ple’ replaced by ‘honest people’.
Pg 83: ‘Girl, ealed with’ replaced by ‘Girl, sealed with’.
Pg 90: Missing speaker name ‘Agnes’ inserted.
Pg 92: ‘those who who have’ replaced by ‘those who have’.
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