Classic Audiobook Collection - The Barber of Seville by Pierre Beaumarchais ~ Full Audiobook [comedy]

Episode Date: December 2, 2023

The Barber of Seville by Pierre Beaumarchais audiobook. Genre: comedy In a sunlit corner of Seville, a young nobleman, Count Almaviva, arrives with one urgent goal: to win the heart of Rosine, a clever young woman kept under the watchful control of her guardian, Dr. Bartolo. Bartolo intends to marry her himself, and he guards his household with contracts, locks, and suspicion. To break through those defenses, Almaviva turns to the citys most resourceful operator, Figaro, a former servant turned barber, matchmaker, and master of improvisation. Together they spin a fast-moving web of serenades, disguises, false identities, and perfectly timed interruptions, all while Rosine proves she is far from a passive prize. As rumors spread and rivals close in, every plan threatens to collapse into chaos, forcing Figaro and Almaviva to outthink Bartolo and his slippery accomplice, Don Basilio. Bright, mischievous, and sharply observant, The Barber of Seville is a comic battle of wits about freedom, love, and the absurd ways power tries to police desire. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 1 (00:28:47) Chapter 2 (01:15:37) Chapter 3 (01:52:46) Chapter 4 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

the barber of seville act one scene the morning in a street in seville where all the windows are barred and fitted with shutters as the curtain rises the count is walking to and fro alone in a voluminous brown cape and hat with a turned-down brim the count looking at his watch it is earlier than i thought still quite a while till the time when she usually appears in her window well never mind it is better to get his watch it is earlier than i thought still quite a while till the time when she usually appears in her window well never mind it is better to get here too soon than to miss seeing her even one minute if some court dandy should nose me out a hundred leagues from madrid loitering every morning under the window of a girl to whom i have never spoken he would take me for some gallant of the time of isabella of castile why not every one seeks happiness happiness for me exists in the heart of rosina but then to follow a girl to seville when madrid and the court offer everywhere such easy pleasures. That's just it. That's just what I'm fleeing. I'm tired of love conquests, which self-interest, fitness, or vanity present to us without end. It is so sweet to be loved for oneself, and if I could make sure that in this disguise—oh, the devil take this intruder. Figuero enters with a guitar slung over his shoulder, a wide ribbon serving as a strap. He

hums gaily a piece of paper in his hand. He also has a pencil. The count hides. Away with the corrosion of sorrow. The fire of good wine let us borrow. For without its inspiration, man enters a declination, and dieth on the morrow. Hmm, pretty good up to that point, isn't it? And dieth on the morrow, glowing wine and restful e'clock. Glowing wine and restful ease, in my heart madly struggle. Oh, no, no, no, no. They do not struggle, they live in it together

peacefully enough. Hmm. Divide between them, my heart. Is it good English to say divide between them, or divide among them? Eh. Oh, dear me, we makers of musical comedies must

not be too particular. Today, things not worth being said are sung. glowing wine and restful ease, share my heart between them. Hmm. Now I would like to finish with something pretty, sparkling, brilliant, which may have the trace of a thought. He kneels on one knee and writes, singing at the same time. Share my heart between them.

If the one has my love, the other gives me happiness. Oh, come now, that falls flat. isn't the thing. What I need is an antithesis. If the one is my mistress, the other... Hmm, ah, to be sure. I have it. The other is my slave. Very good for you, figural old man. He writes at the same time singing. Glowing wine and restful ease share my heart between them. If the one is my mistress, the other is my slave. the other is my slave the other is my slave well what do you say to that with the accompaniment added we will see yet my friends of the conspiracy against me if i do not know what i am talking about he catches sight of the count hmm i have seen that priest there somewhere he arises the count aside this man is no nose

stranger to me. Oh, no, he isn't a priest, that proud and noble bearing. The grotesque figure. I am not at all mistaken. It is the Count Amaviva. I believe it is that rascal of a figaro. It is he indeed. My lord! Rascal, if you say a word. Yes, I recognize you. These are the kind familiarities with which you have always honored me. For my part, I do not recognize you. You are so fat and sleek. No wonder, my lord, I've seen such hard times. Poor little fellow. But what are you doing in Seville? It hasn't been so long since I've recommended you to the government civil service for a position. I secured it, my lord, and my gratitude. Call me Lindor. Don't you see by my disguise that I

wish to be unknown? I'll withdraw, my lord. Not at all. I'm awaiting something here, and two men who chat are less suspected than one who loiters around. Let's have the appearance of chatting amiably about, let's see, this position. The minister, complying with your request, had me appointed right away as assistant druggist. In the Army Medical Corps? No, in the horse-breeding farms of Andalusia. Ha, fine beginning. Oh, the position wasn't so bad.

because, having charge of the dressings for the wounds and of the drugs, I often sold good horse medicine to the enlisted men. Which killed the loyal subjects of the king? Ha, ha, well, there isn't any universal remedy, but what sometimes has failed to cure even Galatians, Catalonians, and Norvriganians. Why then did you quit? Quit. They quit me. Someone spoke ill of me to the authorities.

envy with clutching fingers, with pale and livid face. Oh, for pity's sake, are you a maker of verses, too? I have just seen you scribbling on your knee and humming. That is just the cause of my misfortune, your excellency. When it was reported to the minister that I was making, prettily enough, I dare say, occasional verses to the ladies, that I was sending articles to the newspapers, that there were in circulation some madrigals written according to my style.

When he knew, in short, that I was head and ears in print, he took it tragically, and made me give up my position under the pretext that love of letters does not sit well with strict attention to business. Well reasoned. And you did not present to him your side of— I believed myself only too fortunate in having been forgotten by him, being persuaded that you of the upper class do us positive good when you are doing us no ill. You are not telling the whole story. I remember that in my service you were a bad enough fellow. Oh, but dear me, my lord, would you have a poor fellow without any faults?

Lazy, unsteady? How many masters does your excellency know, who measure up to the standard of perfection you are demanding in a servant? Ha, ha, not bad. And you have retired in this city? No, not just yet. The Count, silencing him. One moment. I thought it was she. Go ahead. I hear you well enough. On returning to Madrid, I decided to try anew my literary talents, and the theatre seemed to me a field of honour. Oh, mercy on us.

During Figaro's reply, the Count anxiously watches Rosina's window. In truth, I do not know why I have not had the greatest success. For I filled the pit of the theatre with excellent workmen. They're hands like butter paddles. I banned the use of canes, gloves, everything that produces only dull-sounding applause, and on my honour, before the first night of my play, the critics and the club gossipers had the best goodwill in the world towards me. But the effort of my enemies in the conspiracy...

Ah, conspiracy against you. And monsieur the author failed. Just as has many another. Why not? They hissed me off the stage. But if I can ever get them together again... You will get revenge by boring them to death. Ah, what a treat I have in store for them by Jove. You swear? Do you not know that... that at the Palace of Justice, one has only 24 hours in which to curse his judges. One has 24 years in the theatre. Life is too short to wear out such a grudge.

Your merry anger delights me. But you are not telling me what made you leave Madrid. Figuro with the air of making a fine speech. It was my good angel, your excellency, since I have been fortunate enough to find again in you, my former master. in a serious vein Seeing Madrid that the Republic of Letters

is a Republic of Wolves each snarling at the other and that the contempt caused by this ridiculous bitterness made it easy for all the insects, the mosquitoes, the gnats, the scrawling things, the envious, the hack writers, the publishers, the censors,

the whole pack of wolves which fastens itself to the skins of the unfortunate men of letters to bite to pieces and suck dry the little substance left them. Tired of writing, bored with myself, disgusted with others, buried under debts, a light of purse, at last convinced that the tangible revenue of the razor is preferable to the empty honors of the pen, I left Madrid, and my pack on my back, philosophically traveling about through the two castiles, Monca, Estramadora, Sierra Morena, under Licea,

welcomed in one town, imprisoned in another. and everywhere rising above events, praised by some, harshly criticized by others, making the best of good and of bad weather, putting up with misfortune, making fun of fools, defying the wicked, laughing at my misery, and shaving everybody, you see me finally established in Seville,

and ready again to serve your lordship in anything that you may be pleased to order. What has given you so cheerful a philosophy of life, life. Long experience with misfortune. I hasten to laugh at everything, for fear that otherwise I might be forced to weep over it. Let's be off, quick. Why? Come now, you wretch. You'll be the undoing of me. They conceal themselves just as the shutters of the window in the first story are opened. Bartolo and Rosina appear at the window. How sweet to get a breath of fresh air! This window is so rarely opened.

What is that paper you have there? Some couplets from the useless precaution, which my music teacher gave me yesterday. What is this useless precaution? It is a new musical comedy. Another one of those prose plays. More of that new Bosch. I know nothing at all about it. Anyway, creditable critics call it that. The world is going to the dogs.

These barbarous times now. This century. You are always maligning our century. Pardon the liberty that I take. What has our century produced worth praising? Follies of all sorts. Liberty of thought. Electricity.

Religious tolerance, vaccination, quinine, the encyclopedia, these prose plays. Latina, the paper drops from her hand and falls into the street. Oh, my song. My song dropped while I was listening to you. Run, run now, please. My song will be lost.

The devil, why didn't you hold to it while you had it? Bartolo leaves the balcony. Rosina, as soon as he has disappeared into the house, signals to the count. The count appears. Pick it up quickly, and go. The count makes just one bound, grasps the paper, and hides again. Bartolo comes out of the house and looks around.

Where is it, then? I do not see anything. Under the balcony at the foot of the wall. Fine errand you have sent me on. Has anyone passed? I haven't seen a soul. Bartolo to himself. And I had the simplicity to look for it. Bartolo, you're only a fool, my friend. This ought to teach you never to open a window looking on the street.

He goes back into the house. Lucina is still on the balcony. My unhappiness is the excuse for this deception. Lonely, shut in, the victim of a hateful old man's persecution. Is it a crime to attempt to escape slavery? Bartolo appearing on the balcony. Come back in, my lady. It is my fault that you have lost your song,

but that misfortune will not happen again. I can assure you of that. He closes the shutters and locks them. The Count and Figuero enter, making sure that Bartolo doesn't see them. Now that they have gone in, let's take a look at this song in which some mystery is surely bottled up. It is a note. Ah, he asked what the useless precaution was. The Count reads rapidly.

Your ardent attentions excite my curiosity. As soon as my guardian goes out, sing care. Carelessly to the air of this song, a few verses that will teach me the name, the rank, and the intentions of one who appears to interest himself so obstinately in the affairs of the unfortunate Rosina. Figaroe imitating Rosina's voice. My song! My song has fallen. Run, run, run now. Oh, these women, if you want to teach cunning to the most unsophisticated, just lock her up. "'My darling Rosina!' "'My lord, I am no longer in doubt as to the motives of your disguise.

"'You are making love here for the future use.' "'Well, you have caught on, but if you blab—' "'What? I blab, give away secrets. "'In allaying your fear, I shall not use any of the fine phrases of honour and devotion, "'phrases that are abused all day long. "'I have only a word.' It is to my interest to keep silent. Way that in the balance.

Very well, then. Know that six months ago on the Prado, I met by chance a young girl of marvellous beauty. You've just seen her. I have had her sought for all over Madrid in vain. Just a few days ago I discovered that her name is Rosina, that she is of noble extraction, an orphan, and married to an old doctor of this city,

Batola by name. "'Pon, my honour, a pretty bird and hard to get from the nest. But who told you that she was the wife of the doctor?' "'Everybody.' "'It is a story he patched up upon arriving from Madrid "'in order to get rid of her admirers and to put her pursuers on a false trail. "'So far, she is only his ward, but soon.' "'Never. Oh, what a relief!

"'I determined to dare all in order to tell her how, sorry I was that she was married, and I find her free. There's not a moment to lose. I must make her love me, and snatch her from this unholy engagement that is in store for her. You say you know this guardian? As I know my mother. What kind of fellow is he? He is a slim, fat, short, young dodger, old fool, dappled grey, clean-shaven cynic, who spies and peeps and scolds and wines at the same time.

Oh, come, I've seen him. His disposition? Brutal avaricious, excessively amorous and jealous of his ward, who hates him like poison. His good points are... None. So much the better. His honesty? Just enough for him to escape hanging.

So much the better. To punish a scoundrel, at the same time gaining my own happiness would... Be both a personal and a public blessing, which is, in truth, my lord, the essence of morality. You say that fear of her lovers made him close his gates? To everybody. If he could dobb the chinks. Oh, the devil. So much the worse, you do not happen to have access to his house, do you? Oh, yes, I do. In the first place, the house in which I live belongs to the doctor, who puts me up there for nothing. Ha! Ha!

Yes, and I, in gratitude, promise him $100 a year for a doctor, for me. nothing also. You are his tenant. More. His barber, his surgeon, his drugist. There isn't a razor, a lancet, or a hypodermic syringe used in his house except by the hand of your humble servant. The Count kisses him on both cheeks.

Ah, Figuero, my friend, you shall be my good angel, my saviour, my tutelary god. Play-on it! How my usefulness to you has lessened the distance between us! Talk about your impassioned people. Lucky Figaro, you are going to see my Rosina. You are going to see her. Do you realize your good fortune? Now that's the speech of a lover for you.

Am I the one who adores her? I wish you could take my place. If we could only get rid of all prying eyes. Hmm, that is what I'm thinking about. To get rid of them for twelve hours only. Hmm, by keeping people. people busy about their own affairs. You keep them from meddling with others, don't you?

Doubtless. Why? Hmm. I am just trying to think whether the pharmacopoeia can furnish me with some little innocent means. You rascal. Oh, I don't mean to harm them. They have need of my services, and now to treat them altogether. But this physician might smell a rat. We must act so quickly. that the rat will not have time to die.

I have an idea. The regiment of the heir apparent is just being quartered in this city. The colonel is one of my friends. Good. Present yourself at the doctor's house dressed like a trooper and with a quartermaster's billet. He will have to take you in,

and I will take care of the rest. Excellent. It would not be a bad idea for you to appear to be half drunk. What good will that do? And treat him a bit cavalierly. Your apparent drunkenness will be excuse enough for being unreasonable. Again, I ask you why.

So that he will take no offence, and so that he will believe you more in need of sleep than of love affairs in his house. Masterly conception. But why do you have no part in this plan? Oh, yes, why not? We shall be lucky enough if he doesn't recognize you, you whom he has never seen. and how should I get you into the house afterwards?

You are right. Perhaps you will not be able to play this difficult part, a trooper, half-drunk. You are mocking me. Isn't the house of Dr. Bartolow around him nowhere at all, my friend? Not so bad after all. Your legs ought to be a trifle more wobbly. Is this the house? Come now. You are imitating the drunkenness of a low fellow.

That is the best way to be drunk. It is the drunkenness of pleasure. Someone is opening the door. It is our man. Let's move away till he leaves. The Count and Figuero conceal themselves. Bartolo comes out of the house. Bartolo speaks to someone inside the house. I am coming back directly. Do not let anyone in. What a fool I was to search for that song. When she began teasing, I should have suspected. And this basile doesn't come either. He was to arrange things so that my marriage may secretly take place tomorrow, and no news from him.

Well, I'll see what is keeping him. Exit left. The Count of Figuero come forward. have I heard. Tomorrow he marries Rosina secretly. My lord, the difficulty of succeeding only adds to the necessity of trying. What then is this Basil who is meddling with the marriage? A poor beggar who teaches music to Bartolo's ward, wrapped up in his art, petty rascal, needy, on his knees in the presence of a dollar, and whom it will be easy to checkmate, noble sir. Glancing at the window.

Look, look, there she is. Who? Behind the shutter. There she is. Do not look that way now. Why? Didn't she write you sing carelessly? That is to say sing, as if you were singing, only sing. Oh, there she is. There she is. Since I have succeeded in attracting her without being known to her,

I shall not give up the name of Lindor, which I have assumed. My triumph will have more charm that way. He unfolds the note of Rosina. But how shall I sing to this air? I am neither verse-maker nor musician. Excellent things, my lord, will come into your mind. In love, the heart assists the productions of the mind. And take my guitar.

And what am I to do of that? I am a miserable player. is it possible that there is one thing that a manlike you cannot do with the back of your hand like this tum tum tum sing without the accompaniment of a guitar as a ville you would be recognized right away i swear and run down immediately figuro flattens himself against the wall under the balcony the count sings walking to and fro and accompanying himself on the guitar to the tune of the spanish cavalier no longer unknown i dare love you you have ordained it my dear what can i gain by breathing my name my mistress so desires and i obey dear Good by Jove! Courage, my lord! I am Lindor, my birth is ordinary. My love is that of a simple student.

Alas that I have not to offer you the rank and fortune of a noble chevalier. Duce take it, I, who pride myself, couldn't do better. Every morning here with a tender voice, I shall sing of my hopeless love. I shall limit my pleasures to seeing you, and oh that you might find it a pleasure to listen to me. Oh, my word, as for that refrain. Words fail him. He comes closer and kisses the hem of the Count's cape.

Figuero. My lord? Do you think she heard me? Rosina sings from within. All things with delight in telling you night that Linder is charming, my heart as his right possessing. The noise of a banging window was heard. Hmm, now do you think that you have been heard?

She closed her window. Someone apparently entered her room. Oh, the poor little thing. How she trembled while she was singing. You have won her, my lord. She is making use of the means that she herself has pointed out. All things with delight in telling unite, That Lindor is charming.

How graceful! What love! What cunning! What a love! Do you think she will be mine, Figaro? She would crawl through that shudder rather than Miss being yours. I am done for. I am my Rosinas forever.

You are forgetting, my lord, that she cannot hear you now. Master Figaro, I have but one word to say to you. She shall be my wife, and if you help me out in this affair, all the while keeping my name hid. You hear? You understand? I agree. Come, Figaro, my boy, your fortune is made. Let's withdraw, for fear of exciting suspicion. I shall enter this house where by means of my art, with a single wave of the wand,

I shall put vigilance to sleep, awakened love, lead jealousy astray, checkmate intrigue, and overturn all obstacles. You, my lord, at my house, trooper's uniform, quartermaster's billet, and your pockets lined with gold. Why gold? Gold? Mercy me, gold. It is the backbone of intrigue. Calm yourself, Figuero.

I shall bring plenty of it. Figaro making off. I shall rejoin you after a while. Figaro. Well? What about your guitar? Figaro coming back. Forgetting my guitar.

"'Surely I am losing my wits.' "'He goes off. "'The Countess Figuero goes.' "'You haven't told me where you live, Adulpate.' "'Figuero coming back.' "'Ah, really, I am daffy. "'My shop is just a little way from here, "'painted blue, lead window-cases, sign over the door.

"'Three surgical instruments, "'an eye and a hand with a motto, "'Consilio Manuke.' "'He flees as if the devil were after him. Curtain. End of Act 1. Act 2 of the Barbara of Seville by Pierre Beaumarchet, translated by William Raymond Taylor. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org.

Act 2. Scene The apartment of Rosine The window upstage is closed, and the shutters locked from the inside. As the curtain rises, Rosine enters alone a candlestick in her hand. She places paper on the table and begins writing. Marcelline is sick. Everyone else is busy, and no one sees fit to write to me. I know not whether these walls have eyes and ears, or whether my hundred-eyed Argus has some evil genius who tells him things just at the wrong time. But I cannot take a step nor speak a word

the significance of which he doesn't at once guess. Oh, Lindor! She sighs, looks pensive for a moment, and then seals the letter. Anyway, I'll seal my letter, though I know not when nor how I can get it to him. From behind my closed shutters, I have seen him talk a long time to the barber, Figaro. That good fellow has now and then shown the pity he felt for me. If I could only speak to him for a moment. Figaro enters, Rosina surprised. Oh, Figaro! How glad I am to see you! I trusted your health is good, my lady.

Not too good, Figaro. I am bored to death. I can well believe it. Anui fatten's only fools. With whom were you holding such lively conversation down there just now? I did not hear, but... With a young student, a relative of mine, of the greatest promise. A man of brains, of feeling, of abilities, and a very pleasing appearance.

Oh, that is all very nice, certainly. his name? Linder. He has nothing, but if he had not left Madrid so abruptly, he could have found a good position there. Rosina, unthinkingly. He shall find one.

Figaro, he shall find one. A young man such as you have described is not made to remain unknown. Figaro, aside. Good. Allowed. But he has one great friend. fault which will always hinder his advancement.

A fault, Figuero? A fault? Are you sure? He is in love. He is in love. And you call that a fault? In truth, it is a fault only when we consider his poverty. Oh, how unjust fate is! And did he tell you whom he loves? I have such a curiosity.

You are the last person, my lady, to whom I should like to entrust a secret of this kind. Why, Master Figuero, I am discreet. This young man is related to you. He interests me. Oh, so much. Please tell me. Figaro, observing her slyly. Imagine the prettiest little darling, sweet, gentle, engaging and full of life, Temptingly attractive, dainty foot, neat figure, slender and willowy plum arms, rosy lips and hands, oh, cheeks, oh teeth, oh eyes, oh. She lives in this city? In this part of this city.

In the street, perhaps? Not far from my house. Ah, how nice, for your kinsman. And this girl is... I haven't told you yet. Rosinae, all a quiver with excitement. It is the only thing you have forgotten, Master Figuero. Tell me now. Oh, please tell me quickly.

If someone should interrupt us, I might never know. You really wish to know, my lady? Rosini indicates vigorously that she does. Oh, well, this young person is. The ward of your guardian. The ward? Of Dr. Partolo. Yes, my lady.

Oh, Figaro, I cannot believe you. Well, at any rate, he is dying to convince you that it is true. You make me tremble, Master Figaro. Tremble? Oh, no. Bad plan, my lady. When one fears to suffer, one suffers from fear. Besides, I have just gotten rid of all prying eyes till tomorrow.

If he loves me, he ought to prove it by remaining absolutely quiet. Eh? What's that, my lady? Can love and repose dwell in the same heart? Young people are so unfortunate today. They have this terrible choice. Love without repose, or repose without love. Rosine, dropping her eyes. Repose without love seems... Oh, very tiresome. It seems that love without repose is more attractive,

and as for me, if I were a woman... It is certain that a girl cannot keep a gentleman from esteeming her. That is just what my kinsman does, esteems you passionately. But if he should do something foolish or careless, Figaro, he would ruin our chances. Figaro aside. Ruin our chances. Allowed.

If you would caution him expressly in a little note, a little note can do much. Rosina gives him the letter that she has just written. I haven't time to rewrite this. But when you give it to him, tell him, be sure to tell him. She listens. No one, my lady. That all I am doing is through pure friendship. That is understood.

That is a fact by Jove. Love does have another way with it. Only from pure friendship. Figaro looks annoying. Rosina petulantly stamps her foot. Do you understand? I fear only that, disheartened by difficulties. Aye, if his were some flitting flame. You must remember, my lady, that the wind which blows out a candle makes a hotter blaze

in a furnace, and that we are that furnace. Just in speaking of his love he breathes such ardor that he has almost given the fever of passion to me. Me, who am totally unconcerned in the matter. Merciful heavens, I hear the doctor. He must not find you here. Go out through the music-room and be as quiet as a cat. Don't worry. Aside holding up the letter. This is worth more than all my observations. Exit Figaro to music-room. Rosiney alone. worried to death till he has left the house. How I like, Figaro. He is a good fellow, an excellent relation. Ah, there is my tyrant. I must take up my work. She blows out the candle,

sits down and takes up some embroidery. Bartolo enters in her rage. Ah, curses that maniac, that rascally pirate of a Figaro. There, you see that one cannot leave his house for a single moment without being sure that on his return what has made you so extremely angry sir that damned barber who has just in the time it takes to turn your hand put my entire household out of commission he has given a sleeping powder to wide awake a sneezing powder to youngman He has bled Marcelline in the foot. No one not maimed, not even my mule. He put a poultice on the eyes of the poor blind beast.

Because he owes me a hundred dollars, he takes pains to run up his bills. Ah, let him bring them in. One could get in this room as easily as get in, in a drill ground. And who would wish to get in but yourself, sir? I'd rather have a groundless fear than take the risk. There are scheming people everywhere. Didn't one of them only this morning pick up your music sheet while I was going down to look for it? Oh, I...

Oh, you take pleasure in giving importance to trifles. The wind could easily have blown this paper away, the first passerby or anything. The wind, a passerby. There wasn't any wind, and not a passerby in the world. And it is always someone there posted on purpose who picks up papers that a woman pretends to drop accidentally. Pretends, sir? Yes, my lady, pretends. Rosina aside.

The old wretch. But that will happen no more. I'm going to have that window sealed up. Better still, while you're at it, Wall up the windows all around. Make a dungeon cell out of a prison. The difference is so little. To wall up those looking on the street wouldn't be a bad idea. That barber hasn't been in here, surely. Are you jealous of him, too? As I am of all others.

How civil your replies are. Ah, you trust everybody, and you will soon have in your house a fine woman. to deceive you, good friends to spirit her away from you, and good servants to aid them in doing it. What? You do not even allow that I might have principles against coqueting with a servant, with Figuero? Who the devil knows what a woman might take the notion to do? And how often I have seen these high and mighty virtues? Well, sir, since I am so, easily captivated by anything in breeches. Why is it that just to look at you gives me a nervous headache? Bartolo stupefied. Why? Why? But you are not answering my question about this barber.

Rosine, beside herself. Oh, well, yes, this man did come into my apartment. I saw him, I spoke to him, i do not hesitate to tell you that i found him quite pleasing and now i hope that what i have told you gives you a stroke of apoplexy exotlzine angrily ah these rascals these dogs of servants he calls youngman wide awake wide awake curse you wide awake comes in yawning and half asleep Where were you pest of a giddy pate when that barber got in? Up to some devil tree, no doubt, and you didn't see him? Finally I saw him. According to what he said, he found me pretty sick, too. And it must have been so, too, because I convinced to have the misery in my legs and arms just from hearing him talk. Just from hearing him talk?

Where, then, is that good-for-nothing young man, drugging this poor little fellow without my prescription? There is some rascality under all that. Young man enters. He is an old man leaning on a crutch stick. He sneezes several times. Young-man! Oh, sneeze some other day.

That's more than 50. 50 times. 50 times enduring of a moment. I'm all broken up. How does it happen that when I asked you both if anyone had been in Miss Rosina's rooms, you didn't say that this barber... He ain't nobody that figure.

I'll wager that that sneak had an understanding with you. What a way, crying like a fool. But, sir, you are unjust to us. Justice, that's a fine word for you, boobs. Justice! Ha! I am your master. I, and I am right always.

But you. you know when a thing is so? When a thing is so, humph. I do not wish that it be so. I mean to see that it isn't so. Just permit all you flunkies to be right about anything

and right away you will see what becomes of authority. I'd much rather be turned off. An awful job I've got. There's always the devil to pay. Oh, respect to both.

fellow, freedom, like? Get out, then, poor, respectable fellow. He mocks them. And a chew and a cha. One sneezes in my nose, and the other yawns at me. Oh, sir, I swear that if it wasn't for Miss Roseen, I couldn't stand to stay in this house. Exit young man sneezing.

In what plight Figuero has left us all. I see what he is up to. The villain wants to pay me my hundred dollars without taking out his purse. Bazil enters. Figuero is hidden in the music room and appears from time to time to listen to them. Bartolo continues. Ah, Basile, you are come then to give Rosina her music lesson? That is the least pressing thing. I have been at your house but couldn't find you. i was out attending to your affairs i have bad enough news for you no for you count alma-viva is in the city speak in a whisper the fellow who had rosina searched for all over madrid he is rooming on the main square and he comes out every

day disguised. He is surely after us. What is to be done? If he were not a nobleman, he could be made to disappear? Yes, we will lay a trap for him, ambush him, with sword and buckler. Good God, get ourselves into trouble. No. Oh, stir up some underhand piece of business.

That is more like it, and during the excitement, slander right and left. Yes. Singular means of getting rid of a man. You be little slander, sir. You scarcely know what you are making light of. I have seen the most respectable people very near to being overwhelmed by it. There is no silly piece of malice, no abomination, no absurd story that we could not get taken up, and repeated by the idlers of a big city, provided we go about it in the right way.

and we have in seville such skilled people in affairs of that kind to start with a low sound skimming the ground like the swallow before the storm pianissimo very softly it murmurs spread swiftly and hurls while running the poisoned dart here such and such a mouth takes it up and piano piano it slips easily into your ear the evil is done it trails it winds and rinfor sando from mouth to mouth it goes the juice of a pace then suddenly no one knows how you see a slander rear itself hiss swell and grow before your eyes it hurls itself forward enlarges its flight Whirls, envelopes, uproots, explodes, thunders, and becomes, thanks to heavens, a universal cry, a public crescendo. A general chorus of hatred and condemnation. What the devil could resist it.

What is all this poppycock you were giving me, Baciel? What has a... all this piano crescendo talk to do with my situation. Hey, what connection? That which is done everywhere to get rid of an enemy, you must in your case do to keep your enemy from appearing on the scene. From appearing? I mean to marry Rosina before she learns of the existence of this count.

In that case, you have not a minute. to lose. And who is responsible for my delay, Baciel, you or I. I have entrusted the management of the whole affair to you. Yes, but you have been stingy with

expense money. And in the music of order, a disparity between parties to a marriage, an iniquitous judgment, an evident violation of right, our discourse

that must be introduced and smoothed over by the perfect agreement of golden tinkling? Bertolo giving him money. I must submit to your wishes, but let's use dispatch. That goes without saying, Tomorrow all will be over. Today you must see that no one sees your war. Trust me for that. Are you coming this evening, Bacil? Don't count on it. This business will take all my time today, so don't count on it.

Bartolo accompanying him. Goodbye. Stay where you are, doctor. You need not show me out. Not at all. I want to close the street door after you. Exit Bartolo. Mbezile. Rosini enters running. Figuero comes from the music room. What? You still hear, Figuero? Very fortunately for you, miss, I am. Your guardian and your music master, believing themselves alone here, have just unbosomed themselves.

And you listen to them, Figuero? But do you not know that that is naughty? To listen? That is the best way to learn things. Know then that your guardian is arranging to marry you tomorrow. Oh, merciful heavens! Don't let that worry you. We will give him so much to do that he will not have time to think of getting married. Here he comes. Go out by the back stairs. You frighten me to death with your boldness. Figaro flees. Bartolo enters. Someone has been here with you, Bacil, I have just shown him out, and for a good reason. You would much prefer to hear that it was this Mr. Figuero, eh? It makes no difference to me, I am sure. Now look here, I must know what it was so important that this barber had to say to you. Do you really want me to tell you? He informed me of Marcelline's condition, which from what he says is not so good.

informed you, I am willing to wager that he was commissioned to deliver to you some letter. From whom, please? Oh, from whom? From someone that you women never name. How do I know? Perhaps the reply to the letter that you dropped out of the window. Rosinae aside. He hasn't missed guessing a single thing right.

Allowed. You deserve that it be. that? Bartolo examines Rosina's hand. That's it. You have been writing. It would be a good joke for you to undertake to make me agree with you.

Bartolo taking her right hand. I? Oh, I shan't try to make you admit it, for you see now that your ink-stained finger does that for you, eh? Tricky lady. Rosina aside. You wretch!

Bartolo still holds her hand. A woman believes herself safe because she is alone. Ah, without doubt. Wonderful reasoning. Unhand me, sir, you are twisting my arm. I burned myself snuffing this candle, and I have been told that steeping a burn wound in ink was a good remedy. That is what I did.

That is what you did? Let's see then if the second witness could, confirms the deposition of the first. This is the box of writing paper in which I am certain there were six sheets only this morning. I know because I count them every morning. Rosine aside. Oh, fool that I am.

Three, four, five, six. I can see well enough that the sixth isn't there. Rosine lowering her eyes. The sixth? Oh, yes. I used it in making a sack for some bonbons that I sent Figaro's Little Sister. To Little Sister, and this pen that was new, how comes it blackened? Perhaps you used it in writing the address of Little Sister. Rosalie, aside. Jealousy is an instinct with this man. Allowed. I used it.

to trace a flower on the vest I am embroidering for you. How edifying that is, to have all that believed, my child, you should not blush so at piling up falsehoods. But you do not know that yet. You are a novice at deceit. Who would not blush to see such evil interpretations placed on things most innocently done? Certainly, I am wrong. Burn a finger.

steep it in ink, make sacks for candy, embroider my vest, nothing more innocent. How many lies it takes to conceal a single deed. I am alone. No one sees me. When the time comes, I shall be able to tell lies at my ease, but the end of the finger remains soiled. The pen is black. The paper is missing. Poor little thing, she couldn't think up in advance, answers to everything. Shaking his finger at her. Rest assured, though, young lady, that from now on a double lock will make me certain that you are up to no mischief while I am out.

The Count in a trooper's uniform enters, feigning partial drunkenness and singing. Ah, let's wake her up. But what does this man want of us? A soldier! Go to your room, miss. Let's wake her up. He proceeds towards Rosinae. Which of you, too, my ladies, is nicknamed Dr. Belordo.

Aside to Rosini, I am Lindor. Bartolo. He speaks of Lindor. Baldo, Barbelo. I don't care a snap of my finger, witch. It is a question only of knowing which of you two as a doctor. To Rosina showing her a note. Take this letter.

Which one? You know well enough that I am the one. Which one? Go to your room, Rosina. This man appears to be drunk. That is just why I do not wish to go. You are alone. A woman sometimes inspires respect. Go to your room.

Go to your room. I am not afraid. Exit, Rosina. I recognize. you at first from your card of description. Bartolo to the Count who puts away the letter. What is that you are hiding in your pocket?

I am hiding it in my pocket, just so that you may not know what it is. My card of description. You soldiers always talk in military terms. Do you think it would be so hard to describe you on a rating card?

Wacking paint, skin-shaved head, lopsiding figure, heavy as lead, beast-like stare of wall-eyed loon, bed canopy nose steeped in maroon, right shoulder high, left shoulder low, legs both gnarled and twisted in a bow, tone is gruff, voices thick, dangerous apparition to the seriously sick, fierce appearance of an algonquin chief, ugly and destructive beyond all belief. In short, of doctors, the paragon, in all this world of his like, there's nere one. The Count clogs a few steps to the cicato movement of his description.

What does all that mean? Are you here to insult me? Get out right now. Get out. Oh, fie. How naughty you are talking. Can you read, Dr. Barbelow? Another one of your foolish questions. Oh, do not let that worry you, for I'm at least as much physician as you. What do you mean? Am I not, hoarse doctor for the regiment? That is why they billeted me in the home of a colleague. To dare compare me with a veterinarian?

No, doctor, I do not claim that our art takes precedence over Hippocrates and his crew. Singing. Your knowledge, my comrade, has a more general success if it doesn't get rid of the ill, at least it gets rid of the patient. Now, isn't all this that I'm singing to you civil?

It is worthy of you, ignorant manipulator, to abuse thus the first, the greatest, and the most useful of all arts. Quite useful to those who practice it. An art the success of which the sun honors itself in shining upon. And the blunders of which the earth makes haste to cover up. I can well see, boor, that you are accustomed to talk only to horses. Talk to horses, ah, doctor. That's you, such a clever doctor,

should make a mistake of that kind. Isn't it notorious that the veterinarian always cures his patients without talking to them, while the doctor, on the other hand, talks a lot to his? Without curing them, eh? You have said it. Who the devil sent this drunken fellow here? I believe that you are firing off naughty words at me, my love. He lightly slaps Bartolo's wrists. In short, what do you wish? What do you demand? Oh, well then. He flies into a passion.

Or do I wish? Cannot you see? Rosine enters. The Count is looking directly at her as he asks the last question above. Rosini hastily and with much faint concern. Oh, good master, soldier, do not lose your temper, please. To Bartolo. Speak gently to him, sir.

a man who hasn't full use of his reason. The Count pretending to understand that she is speaking to him. You are right. He hasn't full use of his reason, he. But we, you and I, we are sensible people. I good-natured and you pretty. In short, that suffices. The truth is I do not wish to have anything to do with anyone in this house except you. How can I be of service to you, Master Soldier?

Just a mere trifle, my child. But if my words explaining what I want are somewhat ambiguous... I'll get the spirit of them. They count showing her the letter and saying with double meaning. No, get the letter, stick to the letter. It is a question only, that you give me somewhere to sleep. Nothing but that? Nothing else.

Read the love letter that I'm. Our quartermaster sends you. Let's see it. The Count hides the letter intended to Orsine, and gives Bartolo another paper. Bartolo reads, Dr. Bartolo will receive, feed, lodge, and give a bed to... Give a bed to.

For one night only, one Lindor called the scholar, trooper, in the 10th regiment. It is he. It is he himself. Bartolo quickly Turocene. What is that? Hey. Now, Dr. Barbaro, am I wrong?

One would say that this man takes a devilish delight in murdering my name in all possible manners. Go to the devil with your ballardoss, your Barbados, your Barbados, your Barbolu, and tell your impertinent quartermaster that since my trip to Madrid I have been exempt from lodging military people. The counter side. Oh, the juice. This is an awkward hitch. Aha, my friend, that jars you and soberes you up a little. But don't go just yet. The count aside.

I almost gave myself away. Allowed. Go. If you are exempt from having soldiers billeted in your house, you are not lacking in courtesy, perhaps. Go. Show me your papers of exemption. Although I do not know how to read, I shall see soon.

Never mind about that letter of exemption. I have it here in my desk. The Count, while Bartolo goes to the desk, says without leaving his place. Oh, my beautiful Rosina. Why, Linder, is it you? Yes, I must get this letter to you. Take care. He is watching us. Take out your handkerchief. I will drop this.

He draws closer to her. Gently there, gently, my noble soldier, I do not at all like anyone to observe my wife so closely. She is your wife? And why not? I took you for her paternal, maternal, some paternal, great-grandfather. There are at least three generations between you and her. Bartolo reads a paper. In consideration of good and faithful testimony proffered us,

The Count with a quick movement knocks the paper out of Bartolo's hands. I don't want all that pack of words. Do you know, sir, that if I have to call my people, I will have you thrashed. A fight? Ah, I fight willingly. That is my trade. He lovingly fondles the handle of his pistol. And here is what I throw powder in people's eyes with.

You have never seen a battle, my lady? No, nor ever wish to see one. And yet there is nothing more cheerful than a battle. Just imagine. Giving Bartolo a violent push. In the first place that the enemy is on one side of a ravine and our friends on the other. Lo to Rosine, showing her the letter.

Now take out your handkerchief. He spits on the floor. Now that is the ravine, you understand. Rosine takes out her handkerchief. The Count lets the letter fall between them, trying to make it appear as Rosine and pull the letter out herself with her handkerchief. Bartolo stooping.

Ah! Ah! The Count quickly takes the letter up and says, Wait, I was going to take. teach you the secrets of my trade. You are a very discreet girl in truth. Now, isn't this a billet-due that she has dropped from her pocket? Bartola with frantic greediness. Give me, give me! The Count calmly holding him off. Gently, Dad, oh dear. Everyone to his calling. This is just as natural coming from her pocket as from a rhubarb prescription to fall out of yours.

Vosini holds out her hand. Ah, I know what it is, Master Soldier. She takes the note and conceals it in one of her pockets. Are you ever going? Oh, yes, I am going. Goodbye, Doctor, no hard feelings. One little pretty speech, my heart. Pray that death may overlook me for some few campaigns yet.

Life before has never been so dear to me. Never you mind. if I had any influence over death. Influence death? Aren't you a doctor? You do so many things for death that it couldn't refuse you anything. Exit.

Bartolo watches him leave. He has finally gone. Aside. Now to hide my little game. Rosini is still gazing in the direction of the Count's departure. You must admit, sir, that he is really nice,

this young soldier. Despite his drunkenness, I can see that he does not lack wit, nor a certain amount of education. Fortunate we are my life to be rid of him, but aren't you extremely anxious to read with me the paper that he handed you? What paper? The one he pretended to pick up to hand you. Oh, that was the letter for my cousin, the officer. It fell from my pocket. I had the idea that he took it from his. But I know that it was mine. But we can settle the question easily by looking at it. I don't know what I did with it.

Bartolo pointing to her pocket. You put it there. Oh, yes. Absent-mindedly. You are going to see that it will be some piece of foolishness. Rossine aside. If I do not. not make him angry, there will be no way of refusing him. Give it to me, then, my love.

But what is your reason for insisting, sir? Do you distrust me? But what reason have you for not showing it to me? I tell you again, sir, that this letter is no other than the one you gave me unsealed this morning from my cousin, and in regard to its being unsealed, I tell you frankly that this liberty displeases me excessively. I do not know what you mean. Do I read your letters?

Why do you assume the right to read those addressed to me? If jealousy is the reason, that is insulting. If it is abuse of a usurped authority, I am still more angry. What? Angry? You have never before spoken to me like this. If I have controlled myself thus far, it was not to give you the right to insult me with impunity. Of what insult are you speaking? It is an unheard of offense to open other people's

letters. The letters of one's wife? I am not that yet. But why should a wife be singled out for an indignity that one offers no one else? You are trying to put me on a false trail and make me forget the letter which without doubt is omissive from some lover. But I shall see it, I tell you. You shall not see it. If you come a step nearer me, I will flee from this house and ask shelter of the first person I meet. Who will have none of you?

We shall see. We are not in France where they always give in to women, but to take false hopes out of your head, I will lock the door. Orsine, while he goes to lock the door. Oh, heavens! What shall I do? I'll replace this quickly with the one from my cousin,

and let him take that as much as he likes. She makes the exchange and places the letter from her cousin in her pocket in such a way that a little of it shows. Now I intend to see it. By what right, please? By the most universally recognized right, that of might. I'll die before I let you see it. Bartolo stamping his foot.

My lady, my lady! Rosini falls into an armchair and feigns illness. Oh, what an outrage. Give me that letter or fear my anger. Rosini falling backward. Unhappy, Rosina. What is the matter now? What a frightful future.

Rosina! I'm stifling with fury. She is ill. I'm fainting. I'm dying. Bartolo fills her pulse and says aside, Ye gods the letter, I'll read it without her knowledge. He continues to feel her pulse, and tries to turn the letter in her pocket

so that he can read a little of it. Lucene is still reclining. Unhappy me. Ah! She sighs. Bartolo drops her arm, and says aside. What an insane desire I have to learn what I am always afraid to know. Rosine sighs.

Poor Rosina! The use of perfumes produces spasmodic affections. He reads from behind the armchair while feeling her pulse. Lucene raises herself a little, watches him slyly, nods her head and resumes her original position without a speaking. Bartolo aside. Oh, heavens, it is the letter from her cousin. Cursed suspicion.

Now, how can I appease her? At least I'll not let her know that I have read it. He pretends to lift her and replaces the letter. We'll see no size. You are all right now. It is nothing, my child, a little rush of blood to the head. That's all. Your pulse hasn't varied a beast.

He goes to get a flask from the table. Rosina, your side. He has replaced the letter. Good. My dear, Rosina, a little sip of this wine. I wish nothing from you. Leave me alone. I admit that I have been unreasonable in this matter of the letter. Oh, I do not care anything about the letter. It is your revolting manner of demanding things.

Bartolo on his knees. Pardon. I realized right away my fault. You see me at your feet and ready to make reparation. Yes, pardon you. When you believe that this letter did not come from my cousin, let it come from where it will. I wish no explanation. Ossini offering the letter to him. You see that with kindness one can get anything from me. Read it. This frankness would dispel my suspicions, even if I were unhappy enough to retain any of them.

But read it, sir. God forbid that I should so insult you. You are displeasing me by refusing. Take in recompense this mark of my perfect confidence. I am going up to see poor Marcelline, whom this figaro. I know not why has bled in the foot. Do you not want to go to? I'll come up in a moment.

Since we have made peace, darling, give me your hand. If you were only able to love me, how happy you might be. Well, Sine, loying her eyes. If you were only able to please me, oh, how I would love you. I will please you. I will please you. I repeat, I will please you. Exit Bartolo, wagging his head. Lucinia alone. She watches him go.

Ah, Lindor, he says that he will please me. Let's read this letter which came near causing me so much trouble. She reads and cries out. Ha! I am too late reading it. He advises me to have an open quarrel with my guardian. I had such a good opportunity, and I let it slip. On receiving the letter, I felt myself blushing even behind my ears. My guardian is right. I am far from having the worldly experience, which, he often tells me, assures the composure

of women on all occasions. But an unjust man succeeds in making a crafty thing of innocence itself. Curtain. End of Act 2. Act 3 of the Barber of Seville by Pierre Beaumarchais, translated by William Raymond Taylor. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 3. Seen, the apartments of Rosini in Bartolo's house as in Act 2.

curtain rises disclosing Bartolo alone and downcast. What caprice! What caprice! She seemed in a good humor. Then can anyone tell me what the devil put the notion into her head not to take any more music lessons from Basile. She knows that he has something to do with my marriage. Someone knocks at the door. Do everything in the world for a woman, and if you forget a single thing. I say a single thing! Another knock on the door. Well, let's see who it is.

Bartolo goes to the door. The count enters dressed as a student. May joy and peace dwell here within forever. Never was a wish more opportune. What do you want? Sir, I am Alonzo, Master of Arts, licensed to teach. I have no need of an instructor. The Count continued what he has begun to say.

Student of Basile, Organist of the Grand Convent, who has the honor of teaching music to your... Basile! Organist! Who has the honor? I know it. Come to the point. The Count aside. Huff! What a man! Allowed. A sudden illness has forced him to stay in bed.

Basile? stay in bed? He has done well to send. I will go to see him immediately. The Count aside. Oh, the devil. When I say the bed, sir, it is, it is, it is, it is, the room, I mean. Bartolo making ready to go out. Even if he be only slightly indisposed, go ahead. I will be with you in a moment. The Count, embarrassed. Sir, I was commissioned.

No one can hear us. But to low aside, it is some trickery. Aloud. Oh, no, my mysterious friend, speak without fear if you can. Damned old fool. Bezile entrusted me with telling you... Speak louder, I am deaf in one ear. Oh, certainly.

That Count Alma Viva, who is lodging on the main square... Not so loud, don't speak so loud, I beg. Gave up his rooms this morning, since it was through me that he knew Count Alma Viva. Not so loud, not so loud, please. Was in this city, and since I learned that Miss Rosina has written to him— Rosina written to him? My dear fellow, please speak in a whisper. I beseech you.

Come, let's sit down and chat amiably. You have discovered, you say, that Rosina— Assuredly, Bazile disturbed on your account. about this correspondence asked me to show you her letter, but the manner in which you take things. Oh, my God, I take them well enough, but isn't it possible for you to whisper? You told me that you were deaf in one ear. Pardon me, Professor Alonzo, if you have found me suspicious and hard, but I am surrounded by intrigers, snares, and then your makeup, your age, your manners. Pardon me, pardon me,

Oh, well, you have the letter. Now you are talking, in that tone of voice. But I'm afraid that someone is eavesdropping. What do you think? All my servants laid up, Rosina in a rage, shut up in her room. The devil has gotten into my house, but I'll go to be certain. Bartolo opens Rosina's door gently, peeps in and listens. The Count to side.

I've gotten myself into this fix through sheer irritation. Shall I refuse to show him the letter now? I would have to flee, and might just as well not come. Shall I show it to him? If I could forewarn Rosina, to show it would be a trick of genius. Bartolo returning on Tiptoes. She is sitting near the window, her back turned to the door, reading a letter from her cousin, a letter that I unsealed.

Now, let's see hers. The Count hands him Rosina's letter. Here it is. Aside. It is my letter that she is reading. Bartolo reads, Since you have told me your position and name, Ah, the little vixen, it is surely her handwriting.

Sh, now it is your turn not to speak so loud. However can I repay you for this, my dear sir. When all is over, if you, if you're not to speak so loud. When all is over, if you still think there is any obligation on your part, I relieve you of it now in advance. After Bezile finishes his business with a lawyer, to whom he is just now talking, With a lawyer, about my marriage? That is just what I was going to say. He charged me with telling you that all will be ready for tomorrow.

Then if she resists— She will resist, all right. The Count attempts to take the letter, Bartolo holding it all the tighter. Here is the way that I can serve you. We will show her this letter, and if it is necessary, More mysteriously. I shall go as far as to tell her that I secured it from a woman to whom the Count surrendered it. You see that confusion, shame, spite may induce her to yield to you on the spot.

Slander the Count, my dear friend, I see well enough now that you come from Beseech. But in order that this may not look like a put-up job, would it not be good for her to know you beforehand? The Count overcomes an irrepressible movement of joy. That was just the opinion of Bezile. But how manage it? It is so late, in the little remaining time. I shall say that you come in his place. Can't you give her a music lesson?

There is nothing that I would not do to please you. But bear in mind that all these fabrications of substitute teachers are old dodges, worn out comedy tricks, if she suspects. What likelihood, since you will be introduced by me, you look more like a disguised lover than an officious friend? Yes. You believe, then, that my appearance may aid in the deception? Yes, no one would take you for what you are. She is in a terrible humor this evening. If she would only see you, her harpsichord is in this music room. I am going to do the impossible by presenting you to her. Do not say a word about the letter. Not before the psychological moment? It would lose all its effect. You do not have to tell me

things twice. I'm not so dense. He goes out, grotesquely chuckling, and wagging his head. The Count alone. Saved. Hoo! How hard this devilish fellow is to handle! Figuero knew what he was talking about. I could just see myself telling lies. I was stupid and awkward, and he has cat's eyes.

My faith, without the sudden inspiration of that letter, I'll admit that I would have been in a pretty pickle. He goes over toward door and listens. They are quarreling in there. Suppose she holds out and not coming. I'll listen. She is refusing to come from her room, and I have lost the fruits of my trick. He goes back to listen.

There she is. I'll not show myself at first. Exit count into the music room. Bartolo and Rosina enter. Rosina feigns great anger. All that you are going to say isn't worthwhile, sir. I have made up my mind. I do not wish to hear the word. music. Listen now, my child. It is Professor Alonzo, the pupil and friend of Don Basile, chosen by him

to be one of our witnesses. Music will make you feel better. I warrant you. Oh, as for that, you might as well give up hope. If I sing this evening, where is this Professor Alonzo that you are afraid to send in? In two words, I will send him about his business and that of Bazile. She sees her lover and utters a cry. Ah! What is the matter? Rosina, both hands over her heart, in great confusion. Ah, sir, merciful heavens!

She is ill again, Professor Alonzo. No, I am not ill, but just in turning. Ah! The Count suggesting a way out of her confusion. You twisted your ankle, miss? Rosina, looking her thanks. Oh, yes. Yes, that is it. I twisted my ankle. I hurt myself horribly. Yes, certainly I saw it myself.

Rosina, looking significantly toward the count. The shock of it has gone even to my heart. A chair, a chair, and not an armchair here. He goes to look for a chair. Oh, Rosina. What imprudence! I have a thousand important things to tell you. You will not leave us alone. Figuero is coming to help us.

Bartolo bringing up an armchair. Wait, little one, come, sit down. No hopes now, Professor of her taking a music lesson, some other day perhaps. Goodbye. Rosina, to the count. No, wait. I feel much better. To Bartolo.

i shall believe sir that you do not wish to oblige me if you keep me from proving my sincerity by taking the lesson the count aside take my advice and do not cross her i yield my love i am so far from seeking to displease you that i wish to be with you all the time that you are taking your lesson no sir i know that music has no charms for you I assure you that this evening it will enchant me. Rosina, aside to the Count. I am being put to torture. The Count take initiative music from the music stand. Will you sing this, my lady? Yes, it is a charming number from the useless precaution.

Still talking about that useless precaution? It is the newest thing out. It is a springtime pitcher of a lively enough class. Now will my lady please try it? Rosina, looking at the count. With great pleasure. A springtime selection delights me. Spring is the youth of nature.

The heart after a long winter acquires a higher degree of sensibility, as a slave chained for a long time tastes with the greatest of pleasure, the charm of liberty that has just been offered him. Bartolo whispers to the Count. Her head is filled with those romantic ideas. Do you sense the application of it? Yes, damn it. He sits in the armchair that Rosina had occupied.

Rosina sings. When hand in hand through Springtime's Wonderland come love and flowers, then all things new life do take, tender and adoring young hearts awake, Then speed the hours in green-twined bowers, Where swain and shepherdess their tasks forsake. Far rove the flocks, or hills and mossy rocks, The hamlet spurning.

Sweetly the cries of young lambs resound, As gaily they gamble and sprightly they bound. The blossoms are blowing, All things else growing, rejoicing in sweet pleasures newfound. Faithful dogs keep watch o'er the sheep that nearby graze, while Lindor, passion shaken, his gentle charge quite forsaken, of his shepherdess dreams, nor ever deems life possible without love's thrilling maze.

Far from her mother to the green recess where waits her anxious lover, singing and tripping goes the sweet shepherdess. By this device, does love entice and snare the pretty rover. But will singing save her? The melodious reads she lists and heeds, filled with alarms from her budding charms, from the birds as they sweetly sing, the poor little thing, the timorous maid, as she trips along, trembles afraid. From his hidden retreat, her advance to meet, Lindor springs forward. With rapture he has kissed her. She, well-content, and with amorous joy pent, in feigned anger, rails and loudly wails, so that he will appease her. Now come the sighs, the moving fears, the promises, the joyful tears, tender dalliance, amorous treasures, gentle repelior party and lover's pleasures, the shepherdess her anger has forgotten quite. In love's name, all kisses are right. If some wretched intruding swain awkwardly surprises their lover's retreat, with one accord the height of indifference they feign, and his early departure they greet, restraint cannot but heighten. The pleasures of love. if we feel bartolo goes to sleep as he listens the count during the last verse risk at taking one of rosina's hands which he covers with kisses

emotion causes rosina's song to become slower in movement softens it and ends even by stopping her voice in the middle of the cadence on the last word absence of the sounds which put bartolo to sleep now awakes him. The Count straightens up, Rosina and the orchestra take up suddenly the air of the song where they left off. In this manner the third verse is repeated, and the by-play commences again. Faithful dogs keep watch o'er the sheep that nearby graze, while Lindor, passion shaken, his gentle charge quite forsaken of his shepherdess dreams, nor ever deems life possible without love's thrilling maze. Truly this is a charming selection, and my lady renders it with intelligence.

You flatter me, sir. The credit is due my teacher. Bartolo Yanin. Why, I believe I have slept a little during, this charming selection. I have my failings. I come, I go, I trapes around, and as soon as I sit down, my poor tired legs. He gets up slowly and pushes back the armchair. Rosina in a whisper to the count. Vigero doesn't seem to be coming at all. Let's kill time. But, Professor, I have already spoken to Bacil about it. Isn't there some way of having her study some more?

lively things than these grand arias which go up down roll around hi-ho a a a a and which seemed to me to be just so many funeral dirges now some of these little tunes that were sung in my day and which anyone could easily hold in mind i used to know some of them for example during the prelude he tries to remember scratching his head, and finally begins to sing, snapping his fingers, and dancing with his knees bent in the old-fashioned way. Do you, my Rosanette, desire to get the very prince of husbands? To the count laughing. It was Fanchonet in her song, but I substituted Rosanette to make it more pleasing to her,

and to make it fit our particular case. He-he-he-he-he-very-neet, eh? He gives the count a nudge in the ribs. Ha, ha, oh, yes, juiced clever by Jove. Figuero appears in the background. Bartolo sings. Do you, my rosinette, desire to get the very prince of husbands, No young gallant am I,

But in the shadows of night, You'll find me gay and spry, Those cats most gaily be dyed, Lose color when darkness is nigh. He repeats the refrain at the same time dancing. Figuero behind him imitates his movements. No, young gallant. Seeing Figuero.

Ah! Ha! Come in, my friend, the barber. Come forward. You are charming. Figaro salutes. Sir, my mother used to pay. me the same compliment, but I've become a little deformed since those days. Aside to the Count. Bravo, my lord.

During all this passage, the Count does all he can to speak to Rosina, but the vigilant and suspicious Ayuratoa prevents him, which makes a dumb show of all the actors, not in the passages between Bartolo and Figaro. Do you come to bleed to drug and to cripple my household? again? Why, sir, Christmas comes but once a year. But without taking into consideration daily cares, you have seen that when there was need for it, my zeal has awaited only your command. Your zeal has only awaited. What have you to say, my friend, the zealot, to that poor fellow who yawns and sleeps even when he is awake, and to the other one who has been sneezing for three hours

fit to shake his head off and blow out his brains. What do you say to them? What do I say to them? Yes. I shall say to them. Oh, to be sure, I shall say to the one who sneezes, may God bless you, and go to bed to the one who yawns. I do not charge you anything for that advice. No, it is the bleeding and the powders that you charge for, if I stand for it. Was it through zeal, too? that you plastered up the eyes of my blind mule? And will your poultice give him his sight? If it doesn't do him any good, it certainly can't do him any harm. Just you let me find it charged to my bill.

I am not extravagant enough to buy medicine to restore the sight of a blind mule. My word, sir. Since men have little to choose between stupidity and folly, where I see no profit, I try at least to get pleasure. so long-lived joy. Who knows that the world will last three weeks more? You would do much better, my friend, the reasoner, to pay me my hundred dollars and interest without beating around the bush.

I warn you. Do you doubt my honesty, sir? Why, before I would beat you out of them, I'd owe them to you all my life. And pray tell me how little Miss Figaro found the bonbons that you carried her. What bonbons? What are you talking about?

Yes, the bonbons in the sack made out of a sheet of note paper this morning. Devil take me if I. Why, surely you gave them to her for me, Figaro. I asked you to. Oh, ah, the bonbons of this morning. How stupid I am. I had completely lost sight.

Oh, they were excellent, my lady. delicious. Excellent. Delicious. Yes, without doubt, Mr. Barber. Take back all you said. Fine business that, sir. What fault do you find with it, sir? Why, as easily as that? What about your reputation, sir? I'll live up to my reputation, sir. Say rather that you will live it down, sir. As you will, sir. You are on a high horse, sir. Know that when I dispute with a coxcomb, I never yield to him. We differ in that, sir. Turns his back to Bartolo.

I always give in to him. Hey, what does he mean by that, Professor? You think that you are dealing with some village barber who knows how to wield nothing but a razor. No, sir, that I have made my living at Madrid by the pen. And if it had not been for the envious... A? Then why didn't you stay there without coming here to change your profession? One does as one can. Put yourself in my place.

Put myself in your place? Ah, to be sure. Then I'd bray like a jackass. You'll do that anyway, sir. I appeal to your colleague who is there dreaming. The Count who has been too openly courting Rosina comes to himself. I am not a colleague of this gentleman. Figuro with double meaning. No. Seeing you here in consultation, I thought that you were both pursuing the same object. To come to an end, what brings you here?

Some other letter to my lady, speak up. Is it necessary for me to retire? How rough you are with the poor world. to be sure, sir, I came to shave you. That's all. Isn't today your time? Come back a little later. Oh, yes, come back later. The whole garrison is to take a course of medicine tomorrow morning. I obtained the contract for the drugs through my influential friends. Imagine then how much time I have to lose. Will you please to walk into your rooms, sir? No, I do not please to step into my room.

at all. Or why, what is to hinder my being shaved here? Rosina, with sarcasm. Well, now you are respectful, shaving in my rooms. You are offended? Pardon me, my child. You are going to finish having your music lesson. I am staying so as not to miss one instance pleasure of hearing you. Figuero whispers to the count. We can't budge him from here. here. Come here, youngman. Hey, white awake. The basin, the water. All that the doctor needs. That's right. Call them. Tired out, done up, crippled at your hands. Didn't they have to go to bed? Oh, well, I'll go find the things. Are they in your room? Whispers to the count. I'll pull them out now.

Bartolo detaches his key ring and says after reflecting, No, no, I am going myself. Whispers to the Count. Keep your eyes on them, please. Exit. We have missed a grand opportunity. He was on the point of giving me his key ring. Isn't the key to that window on it?

Yes, it is the newest one. Bartolo returns and says aside, Well, I do not know what I am doing, leaving that current. and barber in here? To Figuro. Here. He gives the key ring to him. In my dressing room under the bureau,

but don't you touch anything else. Plague on it. You deserve it, distrustful as you are. He goes out and says aside, See how heaven takes care of the innocent. Bartolo whispers to the Count. That's the rascal who carried her letter to Count Elmer. of Viva. He looks like a tricky fellow to me. He'll not catch me napping anymore. I believe that the

worst of the matter is over. Taking everything into consideration, I thought it wiser to send him to my room than leave him here with her. I would have overheard every word they said. It is surely polite, gentlemen, to keep on whispering. And what about my lesson? They hear a noise as of crashing dishes. What do I hear now? The heartless barber must have dropped on the stairs my dressing case with the most beautiful pieces in it.

He rushes out. Let's profit by this moment that Figaro's intelligence has gained for us. Grant me, I beseech, this evening one word of conversation absolutely necessary if you are to be saved from the slavery into which you are about to fall.

Ah, Lindor. I can climb up to your window, and as for the letter that I received from you this morning, I was forced. Bartolo enters wringing his hands and saying, I wasn't mistaken, everything is broken into a thousand pieces. Where there was so much noise, there must have been a grand calamity. It is pitch dark on the stairs. He shows a key to the count and says with double meaning, I, why, I stumbled upon a key as I came upstairs.

Why didn't you watch your step? Stumble upon a key, you clever man. My words, sir. You may search far for a cleverer. Don Basil enters. Rosina frightened aside. Don Basil! Good heavens!

The deuce is to pay now. Bartolo going to meet him. Ah, Basil, my friend. and I am glad that you are well again. Your illness hasn't had any bad consequences, then. Today, Professor Alonzo frightened me considerably about your condition. Just ask him, I was going out to see you, and if he hadn't restrained me...

Professor Alonzo? Figuro stamps his foot. My heavens, still more delay? Two hours just for one shave? Such customers would lead me, a dog's life. Will you do me the favour, gentlemen, of telling me? You shall talk your fill when I am gone.

But then I must... You must hush, Bazile. Do you think you are telling the doctor something he doesn't know? I have told him that you sent me in your place to give the music lesson. Music lesson? Alonzo. Rosina, aside to Basile. Oh, please, do not say any more.

She, too. The Count whispers to Bartolo. Just whisper to him that we are all together in this. Bartolo to Basile aside. Do not give us the lie, Basile, by saying that he is not your pupil. That would spoil everything. Uh-huh. Truly, Basil, your pupil is a most talented fellow.

That's my pupil. Whispers. I came to tell you that the Count has moved. I know it. Be silent. Who told you? He, of course. The Count whispers. I, of course. You just listen and do not talk.

Rosina whispers to Bezell. Is it so hard to silence you? Oh, fat Hippinoceros. He is deaf. Basil aside. Someone is being fooled here, but I'm hanged if I know who. Everybody is in the secret but me.

Oh well, Bacil, what about the lawyer? You have all the evening to talk about lawyers. Bartolo to Bazil. In a word, just tell me if you are satisfied with the lawyer. With the lawyer? The Count smiling. You have seen the lawyer? No, I haven't seen any lawyer.

The Count aside to Bartol. Do you want him to explain before her? Send him away. You are right. To Basil. But what made you sick so suddenly? I do not understand you. The Count unobserved slips of

purse into Basil's hand. He's asking you what you are doing out of your house, as sick as you are. He is as pale as death. Oh, I understand. Go to bed, my dear Basil, you are not well, and you are frightening us terribly. Go to bed. He looks all upset. Go to bed.

On my honour, you could tell a block away that he is feverish. Go to bed! Why on earth did you come out? You can see that your illness is infectious. Go to bed. I go to bed? Yes, certainly. Brazil, looking at them all.

Well, really, gentlemen. I believe that it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to go to bed. I do feel a little out of sorts. See you tomorrow. If you are better. Bezile, I will come to your house early. Better keep yourself warm in bed. Good day, Don Bazile.

Bazil aside. Devil will take me if I understand anything. And if it were not for this purse. Good day, Bazil, good day. Basil going out. Oh, well, well, good day, good day. The company him, all laughing unrestrainedly. That man isn't at all well.

He has a wild look in his eyes. He must have had a chill. Did you notice how we talk to himself? What frail beings we humans are. To Bartolo. Now, make up your mind to be shaved forthwith. Figaro pushes an armchair to some distance from the count and hands him the towel. Before finishing, my lady, I should tell you one thing essential to progress in the art which I have the honor of teaching.

He draws closer to her and whispers in her ear. Bartolo to Figuero. But it seems that you have placed yourself right in front of me to keep me from seeing. The Count whispers to Rosini. We have the key to the window, and we shall be here at midnight. Figuero places the towel around Bartolo's neck. What is there to see? If it were a dancing lesson, I shouldn't blame you for looking.

But singing? Aye, aye. What is it? Something, I don't know what, has gotten into my eye. He bends his head forward. Do not rub it. It is the left. Will you please blow into it a little stronger?

Bartolo sees Figuero's head, looks. over it, pushes him away violently, and creeps behind the lovers to listen to their conversation. The Count whispers to Rosina. And as for your letter, I found myself hard put to it for an excuse to stay here. Figuro at a distance to warn them. D'A hem. Desartened and seeing my disguise useless. Bartolo coming between them.

Your disguise useless. Very good, my lady. Do not be alarmed. What now? Under my very eyes in my presence, you dare outrage me in this fashion. What is the matter, Doctor? Perfidious Alonzo. Dr. Bartolo, if you often have such whims as this of which chance has made me a witness, I am no longer astonished at the aversion which my lady here has to becoming your wife. His wife, I? Pass my days with a jealous. old fool who offers me as the only happiness and abominable slavery. Ah, what do I hear? Yes, I say it to you.

You, I shall give my heart and hand to that one who will be able to save me from this horrible prison where my person and my property are retained against all justice. Exit. Anger is choking me. Truly, doctor, it is hard for a younger. Yes, youth and old age. That is what troubles the heads of old men. What, when I caught him in the act? Cursed Barber, I have a great mind to... I am leaving. He is crazy.

And I also, on my honour, he is crazy. He is crazy. He is crazy. Excellent. Bartolo follows them leering and muttering. I am crazy. Am I? Infamous barber. Agents of the devil whose work you are doing here and who I hope will fly away with you all. I am crazy. I saw them as plainly as I see this music stand and to face it out so brazenly. Only Basile can explain and set things all right. I'll send someone after him. Hello there.

Oh, I forgot. I have no one to send. A neighbor. The first come. It doesn't matter who. I am crazy, am I? I have enough to make me lose my wits. Curtain Note During the interval between the acts, the theater is darkened, and the noise of a terrific storm is heard. End of Act 3. Act 4 of the Barber of Seville by Pierre Beaumarchais, translated by William Raymond Taylor. This is a Librevox recording.

all lebrvrovox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librovocs dot org act four seen the same is in act three as the curtain rises the theatre is dark bartolo and don basile with a paper lantern in his hand enter what basile you do not know him is it possible that what you say is true you might ask me a hundred times and my answer would still be no if he has given you rosina's letter he is without doubt one of the count's retainers yet judging by the magnificence of his present to me it might be that he is the count himself. More than likely, but about this present, er, why did you take it? You all seem to be in accord.

I couldn't make heads or tails of your actions. And in delicate and fine points of judgment, a purse of gold throws the balances its way. Besides, you know the proverb, One good turn, D. Yes, I know, deserves. That I make good use of it. Ha!

Yes, I have arranged some little variations like that for several proverbs. But to get back to business, what have you decided upon? If you were in my place, Basile, wouldn't you make use of every means to possess her? My word, no, doctor. In all kinds of property, possession is the smallest part. It is the enjoyment of them that makes one happy. My opinion is that to marry a woman by whom one isn't loved at all is to expose oneself. You would fear unfaithfulness? I have seen enough of that this year. I shouldn't do any outrage to her heart.

That will do, Bacil. I'd much rather that she weeps from having me than I die from not having her. Oh, if it's a question of life and death, why marry her, doctor? Marry her. I shall do that, and this very night. Goodbye then. Remember in talking to Rosina about him, paint him blacker than hell.

You are right. Slander, doctor, slander. You must come to that finally. Here is Rosina's letter that this Alonzo gave me. He taught me without meaning to, to what good advantage I may use it with her. Goodbye. We will be here at 4 o'clock. Why not sooner? Impossible. The notary is engaged.

For a marriage? Yes, at the home of the barber Figuero. His niece is getting married. His niece? He hasn't any niece. That is what they told the notary. That rascal is in one. with them. What the deuce? Do you think? My word, they are so alert. Wait, my friend, I am uneasy. You go see the notary. Let him come here immediately with you. It is raining cats and dogs.

Dentalish weather outside. But nothing keeps me from serving you. Where are you going now? going with you to the door. Hasn't this figaro crippled all my servants? I am alone here. I have my lantern. Here, Bacil, take my pass key. I await you. I stay up and come who will, with the exception of you and the notary, no one shall enter here this night. With such precautions, you are sure of your step. Exuant. In a moment, Rosina comes from her, her bedroom. I thought I heard talking. It is midnight. Linder isn't come at all. This weather and all favors is coming. He is sure not to meet anyone. Oh, Lindor, if you have deceived me. What noise is that? Heavens! It is my guardian. I must get back to my room.

Bartillo enters holding a light. Ah, Rosem. Ah, Rosem. since you have not yet gone to bed. I was just going. In such a frightful storm as this, you would not sleep. Besides, I have some very pressing things to say to you. What do you wish of me, sir? Isn't it enough to be tormented all day? Rosina, listen to me.

Tomorrow, please. Be good enough to spare me one moment. Rosina aside. Suppose Linder comes now. Bartolo shows her the letter. Do you recognize this letter? Rosina, recognizing it. Oh, merciful heavens!

It is not at all my intention, Rosina, to reproach you. At your age, one may err, but I am your friend. Please listen to me. I am helpless. This letter that you wrote to Count Alma Viva. To Count Alma Viva! You see what an unprincival. man this count is. As soon as he received it, he made a trophy of it. I secured it from a woman

to whom he gave it. Count Alma Viva. You can hardly persuade yourself that he is so vile. Inexperience, Rosina makes your sex confiding and credulous, but just see what a snare you have been drawn into. This woman had me fully informed, apparently, to get rid of such a date. dangerous rival as you. I tremble at it. The most abominable conspiracy hatched up by Alma Viva, Figaro, and this Alonzo, the supposed pupil of Basile, who bears an alias and is only the low panderer of the count, was about to sweep you down into a chasm from which nothing could have drawn you. How horrible! What? Linder?

What did this young man do that? So he is Lindor. He is acting for Count Almeviva. He is making love for another. That is what they told me when they brought the letter. Oh, what an insult. He shall be punished for it. You were anxious to marry me, sir?

You know the sincerity of my affections. If you still have any left, I am yours. Fine. The notary will come to marry us this very night. That is not all. Oh, heavens, I am sufficiently humiliated. Know that in a little while the wretch will dare come in through that window, the key of which they have artfully stolen from you. Bertolo fingering his key ring. The scoundrels!

My child, I shepherding. not leave you. Oh, but, sir, suppose, suppose they are armed. You are right. I would lose my vengeance. Go up to Marcellina's room, double lock the door. I am going to get the police and await Bacil outside the house. By arresting this Lindor for burglary, we shall have the pleasure of being both avenged and freed of him, and remember that my love will repay you. Only forget my My mistake. Aside. Oh, I am punishing myself enough for it. Bartolo going out and aside.

Now to fix my trap, at last I've got her. Rosina alone. His love will repay me. Unhappy me! She takes out her handkerchief and gives away to tears. What must I do? He is certain to come. I want to stay and assemble in order to observe him in all his blackness. The lowness of his conduct will be my safeguard. Oh, I have great need of protection.

Noble face, gentle manners of voice. Oh, so tender. And he is only the vile agent of a libertine. Oh, miserable me! Unhappy me! Heavens! Oh, someone is opening the shutters! She flees. The Count and Figuero, both wearing long capes, appear at the window. Figaro speaks offstage.

Someone is fleeing. Shall I go in? The Count offstage. A man? No. It is Rosina. Your hideous appearance must have frightened her. Figuero jumps into the room.

I can well believe that. Well, here we are in spite of rain, thunder, and lightning. Give me your hand. He in turn jumps into the room. Ah, victory. Figaro throws cape aside. We are wet to the skin. Wonderful weather to go for laundering.

My lord, how does this knight suit you? Superb for a lover. Yes, but for a lover. confidant? And suppose someone should catch us here. Aren't you with me? I have quite another concern. It is to persuade her to leave this night the home of her guardian. You have in your favour three very powerful arguments, love, hate, and fear. How shall I abruptly announce that the notary is waiting at your home to marry us? She will find my project too bold. She will call me audacious. If she calls you that, you call her cruel. Women adore being called cruel.

Moreover, if her love is as sincere as you wish, and if you tell her who you are, she will no longer be doubtful about your feelings and your intentions. Figaro lights all the candles on the table. Rosina enters just as he finishes. There she is, my beautiful Rosina. I was beginning to fear, sir, that you were not coming. Charming anxiety. My lady, it is not at all my nature to take an unfair advantage of circumstances, in proposing that you share a lot of a poor fellow. But whatever refuge may choose, I swear on my honour.

If the gift of my hand, sir, did not go with that of my heart, you would not be here. Let the plea of necessity justify you in whatever of a regulatory. there is in this interview. You, Rosina, the wife of an unlucky fellow without fortune, without birth. Birth?

Fortune. Stop talking of things that come by chance, and if you assure me that your intentions are honorable. The Count at her feet. Ah, Rosina, I love you. Stop, wretch! You dare profane.

You love me? Go. You are no longer hard for me to withstand. I was awaiting this word to detest you. But before abandoning you to the remorse in store for you, know that I loved you. Know that I was going to make it my happiness to share with you your lowest date. Miserable, Lindor! I intended to give up everything to follow you. But the cowardice absurdly abuse you have made of my gifts and the insult of this Count Alma Viva to whom you have sold me, have served to return to me this evidence of my weakness.

Do you recognize this letter? The Count realizing the trick that Bartolo has played says quickly, That your guardian gave you. Yes, I am indebted to him for it. Ye gods, how happy I am. He secured it from me. In my embarrassment yesterday, I made use of it to force his confidence, and I have not been able to find a moment to tell you about it.

Ah, Rosina, it is true that you really love me? Your Excellency was seeking a woman who would love you for yourself. Your Excellency? What is he saying? The Count throwing aside his cape appears dressed magnificently. Oh, most beloved. Loved of women, it is no longer necessary to abuse your confidence. The happy man, you see at your feet, is not Lindor at all.

I am Count Alma Viva, who is dying of love, and has sought six months in vain for you. Rosina falls into the arms of the Count. Ah! The Count alarmed. Figaro? Do not be alarmed, my lord. The sweet emotion of joy has never had ill consequences. There, she is coming to herself.

Jove, how beautiful she is. Oh, Lindor, how guilty I am! I was going to give myself to my guardian this very night. You, Rosina. Only see my punishment. I would have passed my life in detesting you. Ah, Lindor, isn't hating the most frightful torture when one feels herself made for loving?

Figuero looks out the window. My lord, our way of retreat is cut off. The latter has been removed. Removed? Yes, it is. I... It is the doctor. That is the fruit of my credulity. He deceived me.

I told all, betrayed all. He knows that you were here, and he has gone for the police. Figuero's still looking out Ah, my lord Someone is opening the street door Rosina in fright throws herself into the arms of the count Oh, Lindor

The count with firmness And an air of protectiveness Rosina, you love me That is enough I fear no one You shall be my wife I shall then have the pleasure of punishing That old man to my taste

No, no, have pity on him, dear Lindor. My heart is so full that vengeance has no place in it. Don Basil and the notary enter. My lord, this is our notary. And friend Basil with him. Basil, rubbing his eyes. What do I see? Eh, by what chance, friend?

By what accidents, gentleman? Is this the bride, and is that the groom? Yes, you were to marry the Signora Rosina, and me tonight at the home of Figuero. But we have selected this house instead for reasons that you shall know. Have you the licence? I have the honour, then, of speaking to His Excellency, the Count Alma Viva. You have. Basil, aside, if this is the reason he gave me the past key,

But then I have two marriage licenses, my lord. Let's not get them mixed. Here is yours, and this is the one of Dr. Bartolo with Miss Miss. He fits his glasses and peers at the paper. Rosine, too? The ladies are apparently two sisters who bear the same name. At any rate, sign the certificate. Bezile will be just the man for a second witness. They all sign. the zill hesitating to sign but your excellency i do not understand my good bazil a trifle embarrasses you and everything astonishes you but your excellency if the doctor the count tossing him a purse come now you are acting childishly sign now and quickly ah ah where then is your trouble in signing bzill weighing the purse there isn't any more

but i am the kind of fellow that when i have once given my word must have motives of great weight before breaking it he signs just as bartolo as justice of the peace policemen and servants with torches burst into the room bartolo sees the count kissing rosina's hand and figaro grotesquely hugging and dancing with don basil bartholo takes the notary by the neck and shouts rosina with these scoundrels arrest them all i have one of them by the collar i am your notary He is your notary. Are you trying to play a joke? Ah, Don Basile. Why are you here? Better ask, why are you not here? Justice, pointing to Figaro. Just a minute. I know this one. What are you doing in this house in the dead hours of night?

Middle of the night? You well see, sir, that it is as nearing to morning as it is to evening. Besides, I am a retainer of his excellency, the Count Alma Viva. He bows to the Count. Alma Viva. Then there aren't any burglars here? Oh, let that go. At any other time, my lord, I am the humble servant of your excellency. But you understand that here superiority of rank counts for nothing. Will you, therefore, if it please you, have the goodness to withdraw? You are right. Rank ought not to count here. But that which should and does count far more is that my lady here has just shown her preference for me by giving herself willingly to me. What is he saying, Rosina?

The truth. Whence comes your surprise. Was I not due this very night to be revenged upon a deceiver? Well, I am. Didn't I tell you that it was the Count himself, Doctor? What difference does it make? What you told me? Preposterous marriage! Where are your witnesses? Oh, the marriage is in good form all right. I was assisted by these two gentlemen. What? You too, Bacil? You served as a witness? What else could you expect?

This devil of a man always has his pockets of unanswerable arguments. I don't give a snap of my fingers for his arguments. I shall make use of my authority. You have lost it by abusing it. The girl is not of age. This marriage has just made her of age. Who is talking to you, Archnave?

The lady is noble and beautiful. I am of good birth, young and rich. She is my wife. Does anyone wish to dispute me this title, honors us both? You shall never take her from me. She's no longer in your power. I place her under the authority of the law, and this gentleman, whom you yourself brought here, will protect her against the violence that you wish to do her. True magistrates are defenders of the oppressed. Certainly, and this useless resistance to a most honorable marriage indicates well enough

his fright over the fraudulent administration of his ward's property. But he must render an account. Oh, let him consent to this marriage, and I ask nothing else of him. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Do not be too hasty. Nothing except a receipt for my hundred dollars. They were all against me. I have thrust my head into a hornet's nest. What hornet's nest? Failing to get a wife, doctor, just consider that you get the money.

Oh, yes. You get the money. Oh, let me be, Bacil. You think only of money. Much I care about money now. To be sure, I will keep it. But do not think that that is the motive that determines my signing. He signs the certificate.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, my lord, they are of the same family. But gentlemen, I do not quite understand yet. Are there not two ladies who have the same name? No, sir. The two are only one. And I carried the latter away in order that my marriage be made more sure. Oh, I am ruined in spite of my pains. Rewened from lack of sense. But let's be serious, doctor.

When youth and love work together to deceive an old fellow, everything he does to prevent it may well be called the useless precaution. Curtin. end of act four end of the barber of seville by pierre beau marchier translated by william raymond taylor