_Count._ Oh, true! I had forgot!--But when Basil has spoken to thee in my behalf.-- _Susan._ Is it necessary, my Lord, such a knave as Basil should know every thing that passes? _Count._ She is right again!--But--(_Suspicious_) thou wilt go, now, and tell Figaro all. _Susan._ To be sure, my Lord. I always tell him all--except what is necessary to conceal. _Count._ Ah the Hussey! What a charming little Knave it is! Run, run to thy Mistress; she is waiting, and may suspect us. _Susan._ (_Hesitating_) So your Lordship can’t perceive that I only wanted a pretext to speak to your Lordship. (_The Count unable to conceal his transport, is going to kiss her, but hears somebody coming, and they separate_) _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! (_The Count goes off, and Figaro enters, but the Count hearing Figaro’s Voice, returns and peeps_) _Figaro._ Well, my Susan, what does he say? _Susan._ Hush! Hush! He is just gone--Thou hast gained thy Cause--Run, run, run. (_Exit Susan, running, Figaro following._) _Figaro._ Well, but how, how, my Charmer? (_Exeunt._) _Re-enter_ 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-- (_Exit._) _Enter_ Don GUZMAN, MARCELINA, _and_ DOCTOR. _Marcelina._ I shall be happy, Mr. President, to explain the justice of my Cause. _Doctor._ To shew you on what grounds this Lady proceeds. _D. Guzman._ (_Stuttering_) We-e-e-ell, le-et us exa-a-mine the matter ve-erbally. _Marcelina._ There is a promise of Marriage---- _Guzman._ I co-o-o-ompre--hend! Gi-i-iven by you-ou-ou--to-- _Marcelina._ No, Mr. President, given _to_ me. _Guz._ I co-o-o-omprehend! Gi-iven _to_ you. _Marcelina._ And a sum of Money which I---- _Guzman._ I co-o-o-omprehend! Which you-ou ha-ave received. _Marcelina._ No, Mr. President, which I have lent. _Guzman._ I co-o-o-omprehend!--It is re-e-paid. _Marcelina._ No, Mr. President, it is _not_ repaid. _Guzman._ I co-o-o-omprehend--The m-m-man would marry you to pay his de-de-de-bts. _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? _Doctor._ And are you, Mr. President, to judge this Cause? _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? _Enter_ FIGARO. _Figaro._ Here, at your service. _Doctor._ Yes, that’s the Knave. _Figaro._ Perhaps I interrupt you. {{_Guzman._ “Ha-ave not I see-een you before, young Man? _Figaro._ “Oh yes, Mr. President, I once served your Lady.