_Susanna_--Madame ought to have let you break in the doors, call the servants-- _Count_--Yes, it's quite true--I'm at fault--I'm humiliated enough! But why didn't you answer, you cruel girl, when I called you? _Susanna_--I was dressing as well as I could--with the aid of pins, and Madame knew why she forbade me to answer. She had her lessons. _Count_--Why don't you help me get pardon, instead of making me out as bad as you can? _Countess_--Did I marry you to be eternally subjected to jealousy and neglect? I mean to join the Ursulines, and-- _Count_--But, Rosina! _Countess_--I am no longer the Rosina whom you loved so well. I am only poor Countess Almaviva, deserted wife of a madly jealous husband. _Count_--I assure you, Rosina, this man, this letter, had excited me so-- _Countess_--I never gave my consent. _Count_--What, you knew about it? _Countess_--This rattlepate Figaro, without my sanction-- _Count_--He did it, eh! and Basilio pretended that a peasant brought it. Crafty wag, ready to impose on everybody! _Countess_--You beg pardon, but you never grant pardon. If I grant it, it shall only be on condition of a general amnesty. _Count_--Well, then, so be it. I agree. But I don't understand how your sex can adapt itself to circumstances so quickly and so nicely. You were certainly much agitated; and for that matter, you are yet. _Countess_--Men aren't sharp enough to distinguish between honest indignation at unjust suspicion, and the confusion of guilt. _Count_--We men think we know something of politics, but we are only children. Madame, the King ought to name you his ambassador to London.--And now pray forget this unfortunate business, so humiliating for me. _Countess_--For us both. _Count_--Won't you tell me again that you forgive me? _Countess_--Have I said _that_, Susanna? _Count_--Ah, say it now. _Countess_--Do you deserve it, culprit? _Count_--Yes, honestly, for my repentance. _Countess [giving him her hand_]--How weak I am! What an example I set you, Susanna! He'll never believe in a woman's anger. _Susanna_--You are prisoner on parole; and you shall see we are honorable. FRANCIS BEAUMONT and JOHN FLETCHER (1584-1616) (1579-1625)