_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. _Countess._ And my hair too--I assure you, Susan, I shall be very severe 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 throws 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. _Susan._ Oh Yes Madam; I can see you will scold him, heartily. _Countess_ (_Seriously_). What do you say, Susan? _Susan_ (_Goes to the door_). Come; come in Mr. Soldier. _Enter_ PAGE. (_Susan pretends to threaten him by signs._) _Page._ Um--(_Pouts aside._) _Countess._ Well, young gentleman, (_With assumed severity_)--How innocent he looks, Susan! (_Aside to Susan_). _Susan._ And how bashful, Madam! _Countess_ (_Resuming her serious air_). Have you reflected on the duties of your new Profession? (_The Page imagines the Countess is angry, and timidly draws 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. _Countess_ (_Seeing the Page more and more fearful_). Nay, Hannibal--don’t--be terrified--I--Come nearer. _Susan_ (_Pushing him towards the Countess_). Advance, 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? _Page._ Alas, Madam, I may well be sorrowful! Being, as I am, obliged to leave a Lady so gentle and so kind---- _Susan._ And so beautiful--(_In the same tone and half aside._) _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. _Page._ Um--(_Pouts._) _Susan._ Turn about--Let me untie your cloak. (_Susan takes off the Page’s cloak._) _Countess._ But suppose somebody should come? _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? _Page_ (_Sighs_). Oh, yes! That I am sure I shall love her as long as I live! _Countess._ Esteem, you mean, Hannibal.