_Figaro._ “Come, come, we must be quick; let us run and find the Count, otherwise he will invent some new pretext to break off the Match. (_Exeunt Doctor, Marcelina, Figaro and Susan._) _Manent Don_ GUZMAN. _Guzman._ “A greater Foo-oo-ool than Mr. President!--The People in this House are truly very stupid and ill bred.” (_Exit._)}} End of ACT III. ACT IV. SCENE, a large Saloon. FIGARO _and_ SUSAN, _both joyous_. _Figaro._ She has converted her Doctor at last--They are to be married, and these so late implacable Enemies are now become our dearest Friends. _Susan._ What unexpected Happiness! _Figaro._ Chance, my Susan--All the effect of Chance--{{“Yesterday, without a Relation in the World I could claim, to-day, behold me restored to my Parents--True it is, they are neither so rich nor so right honorable, so belaced nor betitled as my imagination had painted them--But that’s all one, they are mine”}}--I may truly be called both a Chance Child, and a Child of Chance--By Chance was I begot, by Chance brought into the World, by Chance was I stole, by Chance am I found, by Chance have I lived, and by Chance I shall die--Chance is Nature’s Sovereign, and must be mine. _Susan._ Yes, and by Chance thou mayst come to be hang’d. (_Laughs._) _Figaro._ Or thou to be an Empress--Neither of them are impossible--He, the Conqueror, whose Ambition ravages the Earth, and whose Pride eats up Nations, is not less the sport of Chance than the blind Beggar who is conducted by his dog. _Susan._ Ha, ha, ha!--Prithee leave thy Philosophy, and-- _Figaro._ And think of that other blind beggar, Love--Most willingly, my Angel. (_Kisses her._) _Susan._ Pooh, Pooh!--That was not what I meant. _Figaro._ Rather say it was not half thy meaning, or thy meaning ill expressed. (_Kisses her again._) _Susan._ Ah, Figaro! Were this fondness, these days but durable-- _Figaro._ Durable!--Iron and Adamant--No; may millions of imaginary Gallants wrack my heart and decorate my-- {{_Susan._ “No rhodomantade, Figaro--Tell me the simple truth. _Figaro._ “By the truest of all Truths I swear-- _Susan._ “Truest of Truths!--Are there various kinds of Truths then? _Figaro._ “No doubt. _Susan._ “Fie!