_Susan._ No, I am not mistaken. (_Gives him a slap in the face._) {{_Figaro._ (_Rubbing his Cheek_) “This is Love--Pshaw! Prithee come hither, look at that Lady--How dost thou like her? _Susan._ “Not at all. _Figaro._ “Well said Jealousy, she does not mince the Matter.”}} _Marcelina._ Dear Susan, this, this is my Son! {{_Figaro._ “Yes, they wanted me to marry my Mother.” _Antonio._ “Your Mother!----It is not long since---- _Figaro._ “I have known it--True.”}} _Marcelina._ Yes, my dearest Susan, embrace thy Mother--Thy Mother, who will love thee dearly. _Susan._ And do you consent I shall have my Figaro? _Marcelina._ Willingly. (_Susan runs and kisses her_) Here, my Son, here is the Promise. (_Gives him the Paper._) _Susan._ And here is the Portion. (_Gives him a Purse 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!”}} (_They all three embrace, weeping._) _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. _Figaro._ (_to the Doctor_) My Father. _Doctor._ Keep off! I disclaim thee! _Antonio._ Why then, if you are his Father, you are a Turkish Jew, and no 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. _Susan._ And are not you, being a wise Man, proud to have a Son wiser than yourself? _Doctor._ No--I would have no one wiser than myself. _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. _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? {{_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. _Doctor._ “Good Doctor, dear Pappa, generous Father! (_Bursts out a crying_) See, if I am not even 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. _Susan._ “But you have thought yes. _Marcelina._ “And look’d yes.