Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais

“ Ah, Susan.
Susan. I have never a Pin.
Countess. Take this.
(Gives her one which fastened the Page’s riband to her breast; it falls.)
Susan. (Picking up the riband) This is the Page’s riband, Madam.
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.
(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.) ”

“ 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.
Marcelina. (transported) Yes, yes, Doctor! I shall have him! He shall marry me! He shall marry me!
Enter SUSAN, with a gown on her arm, and a cap and riband of the Countess, in her hand.
Susan. Marry you! Who is to marry you? Not my Figaro, I assure you, madam. ”

“ 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.
Susan. I wish you would be gone, you wicked—Devil.
Basil. Wicked Devil! Ah, one is a wicked Devil for not shutting one’s eyes. ”

“ Susan. (Aside.) Thou shalt pay presently for these fine Suspicions. (Susan advances and mimics the voice of the Countess) . Who is that?
Figaro. ’Tis the Countess (Aside) .—What lucky Chance conducted you hither, Madam—You know not what Scenes are this moment transacting.
Susan. Oh yes, but I do, Figaro.
Figaro. What! That the Count and my very virtuous Bride are this moment in yonder Pavilion Madam!
Susan. (Aside) . Very well, my Gentleman!—I know more than thou dost.
Figaro. And will you not be revenged?
Susan. Oh yes, we always have our Revenge in our own power.
Figaro. (Aside) . ”

“ Exit Figaro.
Doctor. The Rascal will never mend.
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.”
Doctor. Was it to entertain me thus agreeably that you sent for me in such haste from Seville?
Marcelina. Not entirely for that.
Doctor. What then—Is any body ill? Is the Count indisposed?
Marcelina. No, it is the Countess who is indisposed.
Doctor. What the artful, the deceitful Rosina? ”

“ Figaro. Join with me, my friends.
Omnes. My Lord.
Susan. Why should your Lordship refuse Eulogiums which you merit so well?
Count. Oh the Traitress. (Aside) Well, well,—I consent.
Figaro. Look at her, my Lord; never could a more beauteous Bride better prove the greatness of the sacrifice you have made.
Susan. Oh do not speak of my Beauty, but of his Lordship’s Virtues.
Count. My Virtues!—Yes, yes,—I see they understand each other. (Aside) Who can tell me where is Marcelina?
Agnes. I met her, my Lord, just now, in the close walk by the park wall, along with Doctor Bartholo. ”

“ Marcelina. Who but the amiable, the gay, the ever sprightly Figaro?
Doctor. Figaro! That Rascal!
Marcelina. Youthful and generous!
Doctor. As a Highwayman.
Marcelina. As a Nobleman—
Doctor. Pshaw, impossible! what on the very day he is going to marry another?
Marcelina. “Things more improbable have come to pass.
Doctor. “But your motive?
Marcelina. “For you, Doctor, I have no secrets.
Doctor. “Women seldom have for Doctors.
Marcelina. “I own our sex, though timid, is ardent in the pursuit of pleasure. ”

“ Enter Doctor BARTHOLO and MARCELINA.
Marcelina. Good-morrow to Mr. Bridegroom.
Figaro. Good-morrow to madam Marcelina—What! My old fat friend the Doctor! Are you there?
Doctor. Yes, 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?
Doctor. To see thee hang’d.
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. ”

“ Countess. Pleasure?—Love!
Count. Oh, no; Love is but the Romance of the Heart; Pleasure is its History—As for thee, my dear Susan, add but one grain more of Caprice [99] to thy Composition and thou wilt make one of the most enticing, teazing, agreeable Mistresses.
Countess. ’Tis my Duty to oblige my Lord.
Figaro. Her Duty!—
Count. Yes—Women’s Duties are unlimited—They owe all—Men nothing.
Countess. Nothing?
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——
Countess. What? ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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?
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.
Page. Give it me—Nay, give it me—I will have it.
Susan. But I say you shan’t (the Page snatches it, and runs round the great chair, dodging Susan) Oh my riband! ”

“ 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.
Figaro. Why the first?
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.)
Figaro. Prithee, my Susan, give me a kiss before thou goest—It will quicken my wits, and lend imagination a new impulse.
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! ”

“ 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.
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.
Basil. I invent! Why it is in every body’s mouth. ”

“ Susan. But if he will not, Marcelina will; and thou wilt be condemned to pay—
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.
(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—
Susan. Ah, Madam! Your Beauty needs not the addition of Art in his eyes. ”

“ Count. Stand out of the way, Rascal——Hollo!—Where are my People? Lights! Lights!
Courier. What’s my Lord afraid of? Is there not Mr. Figaro and I?
Enter Flambeaux, Don GUZMAN, Dr. BARTHOLO, ANTONIO, BASIL, and Servants.
Count. (To the Servants) Guard that Door and some of you seize this Fellow.
Figaro. You command, with absolute Authority, over all present, my Lord, except yourself.
Count. “The Villain’s impenetrable, cool Impudence is intolerable.
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Figaro. “We are not Soldiers, that we should kill one another without Malice: for my part, I like to know why I am angry.” ”

“ Count. Hem!—Offence! Oh! No, no, no—But what’s the reason, you malicious little hussey, you did not come when I called?
Susan. What! Undress’d, my Lord?
Count. But why didn’t you answer then?
Susan. My Lady forbad me: and good reason she had so to do.
Count. Such distraction in your countenance! (To the Countess) Nay, it’s not calm even yet!
Countess. Oh you—you fancy so my Lord.
Count. Men, I perceive, are poor Politicians—Women make Children of us——Were his Majesty wise, he would name you, and not me, for his Ambassador.
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Enter FIGARO, chearfully ”

“ Susan. (In the same tone) Yes, yes, Madam—I observe——Men may well accuse us of frailty.
Count. And yet I cannot, for the soul of me, forget the agony, Rosina, in which you seemed to be just now! Your cries, your tears, your——How was it possible, this being a Fiction, you should so suddenly give it the tragic tone of a Reality?—Ha! ha! ha!—So astonishingly natural!
Countess. You see your Page, and I dare say your Lordship was not sorry for the mistake—I’m sure the sight of Susan does not give you offence. ”

“ Susan. (Pretending bashfulness) It’s always soon enough to own one’s weakness, my Lord.
Count. (with an instant change of countenance) What! Wilt thou take a walk this evening in the garden, by the Pavilion?
Susan. Don’t I take Walks every evening, my Lord?
Count. Nay, nay, but let us understand each other—No Pavilion, no Marriage.
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Susan. And no Marriage, no Pavilion, my Lord! (curtsying)
Count. What a witty little Devil! I wonder what she does to fascinate me so!—But prithee tell me why hast thou always, till now, refused with such obstinacy? This very Morning, thou knowest——
Susan. ”

“ 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.)
[59]
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—
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.) ”

“ 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.
Figaro. I was mistaken, ’tis Agnes! (They all grope down the stage till they get round Figaro) What a clock is it?
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Antonio. Almost near the moon’s rising.
Basil. What a gloomy night.
Doctor. We look like so many Conspirators. ”

“ Count. (Angrily) It’s a little Serpent that glides [19] into every crevice—And he has been listening too to our discourse!
Page. Indeed, my Lord, I did all I could not to hear a word.
Count. (To Susan) There is no Figaro, no Husband for you, however.
Basil. Somebody is coming; get down.
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. ”

“ 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?
Marcelina. “Consider, good Doctor, your Promise, if ever our Child was found.
Doctor. “Pshaw!
Marcelina. “And here is a Son you surely need not be ashamed of.
Susan. “Ah my dear Pappa!
Figaro. “My generous, worthy Father.
(Susan strokes his Cheek, Figaro kneels, and Marcelina coaxes him.)
Susan. “You don’t know how we will all love you.
Marcelina. “What care we will take of you.
Figaro. “How happy we will make you. ”

“ Marcelina. A faithless Husband.
Doctor. A very common complaint indeed.
Marcelina. The Count forsakes her, and falls in love with every fresh 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.
Marcelina. After toying with a thousand neighbouring Beauties, he now returns to the castle to terminate the marriage of Susan and Figaro.
Doctor. Which he himself has made necessary.
Marcelina. Oh no—But at which he wishes to act rather as a Principal than an Agent. ”

“ 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!
Figaro. (To the Page) What’s the matter, young Hannibal the brave? What makes you so silent?
Susan. He is sorrowful because my Lord is going to send him from the castle.
Omnes. Oh pray, my Lord!
Countess. Let me beg you will forgive him.
Count. He does not deserve to be forgiven.
Countess. Consider, he is so young. ”