_Figaro._ Pardon my Presumption, Madam! On any other occasion, the Respect I bear your Ladyship would keep me silent, but on the present I dare encounter all! (_Falls on his knees_). Oh, excuse, forgive me, Madam; but let not the precious moments slip!--Grant me your hand. _Susan._ (_Unable any longer to contain herself gives him a slap on the face_). Take it. _Figaro._ I have it, I think!--The Devil! This is the Day of Stripes! _Susan._ Susan gives it thee (_as soon as Figaro hears it is Susan, his satisfaction is so extreme, he laughs very heartily, and keeps laughing all the while she keeps beating him_) and that, and that, and that, and that for thy Insolence--And that for thy Jealousy--And that for thy Infidelity. (_Susan out of breath, Figaro still laughing._) _Figaro._ Oh happy Figaro--Take thy Revenge, my dear, kind, good Angel; Never did Man or Martyr suffer with such Extacy! _Susan._ Don’t tell me of your Extacy! How durst you, you good for nothing, base, false-hearted Man, make love to me, supposing me the Countess. _Figaro._ I must bring myself off, (_aside_)--Dost think I could mistake the music of my Susan’s Voice? _Susan._ What, you pretend you knew me then? _Figaro._ Pretend! Canst thou doubt it? _Susan._ And this was a Trick upon me!--But I’ll be revenged. _Figaro._ Talk not of Revenge, my Love, but tell me what blest Angel sent thee hither, and how thou camest by this Disguise, which so fully proves thy Innocence! {{_Susan._ “I could find in my Heart not to tell thee; but know, to thy Confusion, it is my Lady’s; and that, coming to catch one Fox, we have entrapped two! _Figaro._ “But who has taken the other? _Susan._ “His Wife. _Figaro._ “His Wife!--Go and hang thyself, Figaro--Go and hang thyself, for wanting the Wit to divine this Plot!--And has all this intriguing been about his Wife? _Susan._ “_Yes, about his Wife._ _Figaro._ (_a little suspicious_) “But who did the Page kiss? _Susan._ “The Count. _Figaro._ “The Count! Ha! ha! ha! that is excellent, (_Resuming his gravity_) But who did the Count kiss? _Susan._ “The Countess. _Figaro._ “Ay, but who did he kiss this Morning----behind the great Chair? _Susan._ (_Gravely_) “Nobody. _Figaro._ “Art thou--quite sure?”}} _Susan._ (_Holding out her Hand_) Dost thou want another Proof? _Figaro._ Ah! Thine are but proofs of Love--That of the Count, indeed, was not so gentle. _Enter_ COUNT _behind_. _Count._ ’St--’st! Susan!--Susan! _Figaro._ (_Aside to Susan_) A lucky thought strikes me; prithee second me, Susan, (_Speaks in a feigned Voice, falls on his Knees and kisses Susan’s Hand_)--Ah Madam! Let us not longer converse of Love, but enjoy it’s Treasures. _Count._ What’s here! A Man on his Knees to the Countess!--(_Feels for his Sword, they keep silently laughing_) And I unarm’d! _Figaro._ (_Acting the Petit Maitre_) Upon my honour, Madam, I could not have supposed Timidity should make you hesitate a moment.