_Marcelina._ Well--Since you are determined never to marry me yourself, will you have the complaisance to aid me in marrying another? _Doctor._ With all my heart!--With all my heart!-- _Marcelina._ Ah! (_curtsies_). _Doctor._ But who?--What miserable Mortal, abandoned of Heaven and Women-- _Marcelina._ Who but the amiable, the gay, the ever sprightly Figaro? _Doctor._ Figaro! That Rascal! _Marcelina._ Youthful and generous! _Doctor._ As a Highwayman. _Marcelina._ As a Nobleman-- _Doctor._ Pshaw, impossible! what on the very day he is going to marry another? {{_Marcelina._ “Things more improbable have come to pass. _Doctor._ “But your motive? _Marcelina._ “For you, Doctor, I have no secrets. _Doctor._ “Women seldom have for Doctors. _Marcelina._ “I own our sex, though timid, is ardent in the pursuit of pleasure. There is, in all our bosoms, a small still voice which unceasing cries--Woman, be as beautiful as thou canst, as virtuous as thou wilt, but, at all events, be conspicuous, be talk’d about; for thy Wisdom, if thou hast it--if not for thy Folly. _Doctor._ “She utters Oracles--Well, well, accomplish this, and I will engage you shall be talk’d about.”}} _Marcelina._ We must endeavour to work upon Susan by fear and shame, for the more obstinately she refuses the amorous offers of the Count, the more effectually she will serve our purpose; disappointment and revenge will lead him to support my cause, and as he is sovereign Judge in his own Lordship, his power may make Figaro’s promise of marriage to me valid. _Doctor._ Promise--Has he given you any such promise? _Marcelina._ A written one--You shall see it. _Doctor._ By Galen, this is excellent! The rascal shall marry my old House-keeper, and I shall be revenged for the tricks he lately played me, and the hundred pistoles he contrived to cheat me of. _Marcelina._ (_transported_) Yes, yes, Doctor! I shall have him! He shall marry me! He shall marry me! _Enter_ SUSAN, _with a gown on her arm, and a cap and riband of the Countess, in her hand_. _Susan._ Marry you! Who is to marry you? Not my Figaro, I assure you, madam. _Marcelina._ Why not me, as soon as you, madam? _Susan._ Indeed! your most obedient, madam. _Doctor._ (_aside_) So now for a merry scolding match.--We were saying, handsome Susan, how happy Figaro must be in such a Bride-- (_Susan curtsies to the Doctor._) _Marcelina._ Not to mention the secret satisfaction of my Lord the Count. _Susan._ Dear madam, you are so abundantly kind. _Marcelina._ Not so abundant in kindness, as a liberal young Lord--But I own it is very natural, he should partake the pleasures he so freely bestows upon his Vassals. _Susan._ (_half angry_) Partake--Happily madam, your Envy is as obvious, and your Slander as false, as your Claims on Figaro are weak and ill founded. {{_Marcelina._ “If they are weak, it is because I wanted the art to strengthen them, after the manner of madam.