Classic Audiobook Collection - The Follies of a Day by Pierre Beaumarchais ~ Full Audiobook [comedy]

Episode Date: February 5, 2024

The Follies of a Day by Pierre Beaumarchais audiobook. Genre: comedy This is Thomas Holcroft's English translation, obtained by attending Pierre Beaumarchais' French play nine times in Paris during its original official staging in 1784. Beaumarchais' play was the basis for Mozart's 1796 opera, and is a satire about lovers' misdoings and French society. Because of its rebellious themes, presented during the troubling times leading up to the French Revolution, Beaumarchais had a very difficult time getting his play past the censors. Once staged, the play was enormously popular with audiences, including the aristocracy despite their understanding of the underlying themes. It was shocking that an commoner could contend directly with a nobleman. Louis XVI was not amused with Beaumarchais and imprisoned him for a few days. In our play, staged in London in 1785, Figaro is engaged to be married to Susan, who has caught the eye of Count Almaviva . . . (Holcroft Anglicized Suzanne's name so that English audiences would better accept her.) The Marriage is part of a trilogy, following The Barber of Seville and preceding The Guilty Mother. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 00 (00:08:29) Chapter 01 (00:46:20) Chapter 02 (01:34:00) Chapter 03 (02:07:58) Chapter 04 (02:34:49) Chapter 05 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

act one of the follies of a day or the marriage of figaro by pierre bomache act one seen the castle of count alma viva figaro and susan figaro measuring the chamber with a wand eighteen feet by twenty-six good what art thou so busy about measuring to try if the bed our noble lord intends to give us We'll stand well here. In this chamber? Yes. I won't lie in this chamber. Why so? I tell you, I won't lie in this chamber.

Well, but... I don't like it. Your reason? What if I have no reason? What if I don't choose to give my reason? Uh-huh. Thus it is, once they think they have us fast. Are you, or are you not, my most obedient, very humble servant?

Your slave. Bows very low. Oh. But whereupon take exception to the most convenient room in the whole house. Yes, yes, the most convenient. If during the night my lady should be taken ill, she rings her bell and crack. In two steps, thou art standing at her side.

In the morning, when my Lord awakes, he calls, I start and pop. Three skips, and I am there. Very true. And in the morning, when my Lord has sent thee on some fine errand of an hour long, he starts from his bed as soon as Mr. Figuero's back is turned, and crack in three skips, he... Significantly. He?

Yes, he. Figuero keeps rubbing his forehead, and, looking at Susan. He? He! Dost thou feel anything. Figuero presses his finger and thumb against his forehead. Buttons in pairs.

Mushroom sprout not so suddenly. Yes, yes, it's a fruitful spot. Thou knowest how our generous count, when he, by thy help, obtained Rosina's hand, and made her Countess of Alma Viva during the first transports of love, A love abolished a certain Gothic rite. Of sleeping the first night with every bride.

Which, as lord of the manner, he could claim. Know it, to be sure I do. Or I would not have married even my charming Susan in his domain. Tired of prowling among the rustic beauties of the neighborhood, he returned to the castle. And his wife. And thy wife. Figaro stares.

Dost thou understand me? Perfectly. An endeavors once more, secretly to purchase from her, a right which now he most sincerely repents he ever parted with. Most gracious penitent. This is what he hints to me every instant, and this the faithful Basil, honest agent of his pleasures, and my most noble music-master every day repeats with my lesson.

Basil Basil Basil "'Indeed But if tough ashen plant Or supple-jacked wine Not round thy lazy sides, rascal "'Why wert thou ever wise enough

"'to imagine the portion the Count intends to give us "'was meant as a reward for thy services?' "'I think I had some reason to hope as much.' "'Lord, Lord, Lord, what great fools are you men of wit?' I believe so. I'm sure so. Oh, that it were possible to deceive this arch deceiver, this lord of mine, to lead him into some excellent snare, pocket his gold and—

Ha! Now thou art in thy element. Gold and intrigue, plots and purses, but let him that digeth a pit beware he— I'll try. The lover's jealousy and the husband's share. shame shall not deter me. Your trick, most noble count, his commonplace. A thousand blundering boobies have had art enough to filter your wife from the side of her sleeping, simple, unsuspecting spouse, and if he complained, to redress his injuries with a cudgel.

But to turn the tables on this poacher, make him pay for a delicious morsel he shall never taste, infect him with fears for his own honour, to... The bell rings. Hark, my lady is awake. I must run, for she has several times strictly charged me to be the first at her bedside the morning of my marriage. Why the first? The old saying tells us that to meet a young bride the first on the morning of her wedding day is lucky to neglected wife. Going. Pray thee, my Susan. Give me a kiss before thou goest. It will quicken my wits and lend imagination a new impulse.

To be sure. But if I kiss my lover today, what will my husband say to me tomorrow? Seems to refuse. Figuero kisses her. Figuero, when wilt thou cease to trifle thus from morning till night? Playfully. When I may trifle from night to morning. In the same tone. There, there, there's all the kisses I shall give. Kisses her hand at him and runs. He pursues to the side.

Stop, stop, you cheating little knave! That was not the way you received them. Returns. A sweet girl. An angel. Such wit, such grace. And so much prudence and modesty, too. I am a happy fellow. So, Mr. Basil, is it me? "'you mean to practice the tricks of your trade upon? "'I'll teach you to put your spoon in my milk.' "'But hold.

"'Dassemble is the word. "'Fain we ignorance, and endeavour to catch them in their own traps. "'I wondered why the Count, who had made me steward "'and Inspector General of the Castle, "'should change his mind so suddenly "'and want to take me with him on his embassy to Paris, "'there to institute me his messenger in ordinary. A cunning contrivance that.

He, Plenipotentary in chief, I, a breakneck politician, and Susan, Lady of the Backstairs, Ambassador of the Bedchamber. I, dashing through thick and thin in wearing myself to a skeleton for the good of my most gracious Lord's family, and he laboring,

night and day, for the increase of mine. Really, most honorable count, you are too kind. What, to represent his majesty and me both at once? It's too much, too much by half. Hmm, a moment's reflection, friend Vigero, on the events of the day. First, thou must promote the sports and feasting already projected,

that appearances may not cool, but that thy marriage may proceed with greater certainty. Next, keep off one Madame Marsal's, "'whose licorish mouth waters at thee, "'and to whom thou hast given a promise of marriage, "'in default of the repayment of certain borrowed sums, "'which it would be very convenient to thy affairs never more to mention. "'Hm...

"'Talk of the devil, and... "'Inter Dr. Bartolo and Marcellina. "'Good-morrow to Mr. Bridegroom. "'Good-morrow to Madame Marcellina. "'What? My old fat friend, the doctor. Are you there? Yes, Snave's face. As witty, I perceive, and no doubt as wise as ever.

And have you been complacent enough to come thus far to see me married? To see thee hanged. Most kind doctor. But who takes care of your mule? I know you have as much mercy on your beast as you have on your patient. Do you hear him? And you, gentle Marcellina, do you still wish to marry me? What?

"'Because I cannot fall in love with you. "'Would you drive me to hate you?' "'Exit Figaro.' "'The rascal will never mend.' "'Tis you, Doctor, will never mend. "'You are so eternally wise, dull and slow, "'that when a patient has need of your assistance, "'he may die before you get to him.

"'Like as formerly your mistress got married "'in spite of your precautions. "'Was it to entertain me thus agreeably "'that you sent for me in such haste from Seville?' "'Not entirely for that. What, then? Is anybody ill? Is the Count indisposed? No, it is the Countess who is indisposed. What, the artful, the deceitful, Rosina? What's her disorder?

A faithless husband. A very common complaint indeed. The Count forsakes her and falls in love with every fresh face. I am glad of it, I am glad of it. I foresaw it. I thought Count Alma Viva would revenge the wrongs of Dr. Bartholo. After toying with a thousand neighboring beauties, he now returns to the castle to terminate the marriage of Susan and Figaro. Which he himself has made necessary. Oh, no.

But at which he wishes to act rather as a principal than an agent. In private with the bride. Even so? She, I suppose, has no great objection. Charitable doctor. Basil, however, her music master who takes great pains to instruct her. says to the contrary. Basil, what is that other rascal here too?

Why, the house is a den of thieves. What does he do here? All the mischief he can. He persecutes me with his odious laugh unceasingly. I cannot get rid of him. Marry him. I'll answer for his cure. That's what he wants. But pray, doctor, why will not you get rid of me by the same means?

The claims of justice and oaths out of number should... So, so, so, so, what is the matrimonial furor come upon you again? Our long-lost son, Fernando, the dear pledge of my virgin love, were he but found, perhaps? And so you sent for me to hear this stale rhodomontad? And are you now you have lost you a Rosina, as inflexible and unjust as ever? Pasha! Well, since you are determined never to marry me yourself, will you have the complacence to aid me in marrying another? With all my heart, with all my heart.

Ah. Curtzies. But who? What miserable mortal, abandoned of heaven and women? Who but the amiable, the gay, the ever sprightly figaro? Figaro, that rascal. Youthful and generous? As a highwayman.

As a nobleman. Pasha, impossible. What, on the very day he is going to marry another? Things more improbable have come to, pass. But your motive. For you, Doctor, I have no secrets. Women seldom have for doctors. I own our sex, though timid, is ardent in the pursuit of pleasure. There is, in all our bosoms, a small, still voice which unceasing cries. Woman, be as beautiful as thou canst, as virtuous as thou wilt, but at all events be conspicuous, be talked about. For thy wisdom, if thou hast it, if not, for thy

folly. She utters oracles. Well, well, accomplish this, and I will engage you shall be talked about. We must endeavor to work upon Susan by fear and shame, for the more obstinately she refuses the amorous offers of the count,

the more effectually she will serve our purpose. Disappointment and revenge will lead him to support my cause, and as he is sovereign judge in his own lordship, his power may make Figaro's promise of marriage to me valid. Promise? has he given you any such promise i've written one you shall see it by galen this is excellent the rascal shall marry my old housekeeper and i shall be revenged for the tricks he lately played me and the hundred pistoles he contrived to cheat me of

marcelina transported yes yes doctor i shall have him he shall marry me he shall marry me enter susan with a gown on her arm and a cap and riband of the countess in her her hand. Marry you? Who is to marry you? Not my Figuero, I assure you, madam. Why not me as soon as you, madam?

Indeed, your most obedient, madam. Doctor aside. So now for a merry scolding match. We were saying, handsome Susan, how happy Figuero must be in such a bride. Susan curtsies to the doctor.

Not to mention the secret satisfaction of my lord to the count. Dear Madam, you are so abundantly kind. Not so abundant in kindness as a liberal young lord. But I own it is very natural he should partake the pleasures he so freely bestows upon his vassals. Susan half angry. Partake, happily, madam. Your envy is as obvious, and your slander is false,

as your claims on Figaro are weak and ill-founded. If they are weak, it is because, as I wanted the art to strengthen them after the manner of madam. Yet madam has never been reckoned a mistress of her art. I hope, madam, I shall always have you a good word, madam. Kurtzies. Oh, I can assure you, madam. You have nothing to regret on that score, Madam.

Kurtzies, mockingly. The young lady is really a very pretty kind of person. With contemptuous side glance. Oh, yes. Mimicking. The young lady is at least as pretty as the old lady. And very respectable. Respectable.

Oh, no. That is the characteristic of Edwana. Adwina! Adwana! Doctor, coming between them. Come, come. I... You...

You're very humble servant, madam. You're most devoted, madam. Farewell, madam. Exluent doctor and Marcellina. Adieu, madam. This old Sybil, because she formally tormented the infancy of my lady, thinks she has a right to domineer over every person in the castle. I declare I have forgot what I came for.

Susan bangs the gown on a great armchair that stands in the room and keeps the riband of the countess in her hand. Enter Hannibal the page running. So, youth, what do you do here? Good morrow, Susan. I've been watching these two hours to find you alone. Well, what have you to say now you have found me? Paige childlessly amorous. How does your beauteous lady do, Susan?

Very well. Paige, poutingly. Do you know, Susan, my lord is going to send me back to my papa and mama? Poor child. Child indeed. If my charming godmother, your dear lady, cannot obtain my pardon, I shall soon be deprived of the pleasure of your company, Susan. Upon my word, he is toying all day long with Agnes, and is moreover in love with my lady, and then comes to tell me he shall be deprived of my company.

Aside. Agnes is good-natured enough to listen to me, and that is more than you are, Susan. for all I love you so. Love me. Why, you amorous little villain, you are in love with every woman you meet. So I am, Susan, and I can't help it. If nobody's by,

I swear it to the trees, the waters, and the winds. Nay, to myself. Yesterday I happened to meet Marcellina. Marcella! Marcella! Why, she is a woman, Susan. And what's more? Unmarried.

Oh, how sweet are the words, woman, maiden and love in my ear. He's bewitched, and what is the count going to send you from the castle for? Last night, you must know, he caught me in the chamber with Agnes. Begone, said he, thou little... Little what? Lord, he called me such a name. I can't for shame repeat it before a woman. And what were you doing in the chamber of Agnes?

teaching her her part? Her part? Yes, the love scene, you know. She is to play in the comedy this evening. Which my lord would choose to teach her himself. Aside. Agnes is very kind, Susan. Well, well, I'll tell the Countess what you say,

but you are a little more circumspect in her presence. Ah, Susan, she is a divinity. How noble is her manner. Her very smiles are awful. That is to say, you can take what liberties you please with such people as me. Oh, how do I envy thy happiness, Susan? Always near her, dressing her every morning, undressing her every evening, putting her to bed, touching her, looking at her, speaking to,

what is it thou hast got there, Susan? Susan counterfeiting the amorous air, an animated tone of the page. It is the fortunate riband of the happy cap, which at night enfolds the auburn ringlets of the beauteous countess. Give it me. Nay, give it me. I will have it. But I say you shan't. The page snatches it and runs around the great chair, dodging Susan. Oh, my riband!

Be as angry as thou wilt, but thou shalt never have it again. Thou shouldst have one of my eyes, rather. I can venture to predict, young gentlemen, that three or four years hence, thou wilt be one of the most deceitful various knaves. If thou dost not hold thy tongue, Susan, I'll kiss thee into the bargain. Kiss me? Do not come near me if thou lovest thy ears. I say, beg my lord to forgive you indeed. No, I assure you, I shall say to him, you do very right, my lord, to send this little rascal packing, who is not only in love with my lady, but wants to kiss other folk.

into the bargain. How can I help it, Susan? Here, take this paper. For what? It contains a song I have written on thy beauteous lady, my charming godmother. Count without. Jacques is? Ah, I am undone. Tis my lord. The page crouches down and hides himself behind Susan's petticoats and the great chair. Enter Count Alma Viva. Page remains hid behind the great chair. So, charming Susan, have I found thee at last? But thou seem'st frightened, my little beauty.

Consider, my lord, if anybody should come and catch you here. That would be rather malapropos, but there's no great danger. The Count offers to kiss Susan. Fie, my lord! The Count seats himself in the great chair, and endeavors to pull Susan on his knee,

who resists. "'Thou knowest, my charming Susan, the king has done me the honour to appoint me, Ambassador to the Court of Paris. I shall take Figaro with me, and give him a very excellent post. And, as it is the duty of a wife to follow her husband, we shall then have every opportunity we could wish.' "'I really don't understand you, my lord. I thought your affection for my lady, whom you took so much pains to steal from her old guardian, Dr. Bartholow, and for love of whom you generously abolished a certain vile privilege. For which all the young girls are very sorry, are they not?

No, indeed, my lord. I thought, my lord, I say— Pry thee say no more, my sweet Susan, but promise thou wilt meet me this evening, at twilight, by the pavilion in the garden, and be certain that, if thou wilt but grant me this small favour, nothing thou canst ask shall— Basil, without. He is not in his room. Heavens! Here's somebody coming. Where can I hide? Is there no place here? The Count runs to get behind the great chair. Susan keeps between him and the page, who steals away as the Count advances, leaps into the great chair, with his legs doubled under him,

and is covered over with the Countess's gown by Susan. Enter Basil. Ah, Susan, good morrow. Is my lord the count here? Here? What should he be here for? Nay, there would be no miracle in it if he were. Would there? Hey, gentle Susan? Smiles and leers at her. It would be a greater miracle to see you honest.

Figuero is in search of him. Then he is in search of the man who wishes most to injure him. Your self-accepted. It is strange that a man should injure the husband by obliging the wife. The Count peeps from behind the great chair. I shall hear now how well he pleads my cause. For my part, marriage being, of all serious things, the greatest farce, I imagined...

All manner of wickedness. That though you are obliged to fast today, you might be glad to feed tomorrow. Grace being first, Julie, said, Be gone, and do not shock my ears with your vile principles. Yes, my pretty Susan, but you must not suppose I am the dupe of these fine appearances. I know it isn't Figaro, who is the great obstacle to my lord's happiness,

but a certain beardless page, whom I surprised here this morning, looking for you as I entered. I wish you would be gone, you wicked devil. Wicked devil? Ah, one is a wicked devil for not shutting one's eyes. I wish you would be gone, I tell you. Was it not for you that he wrote the song

which he goes chanting up and down the house at every instant? Oh, yes, for me to be sure. At least it was either for you. Or your lady. What next? Why really? When he sits at table, he does cast certain very significant glances

towards a beauteous countess, who shall be nameless. But let him beware. If my lord catches him at his tricks, he'll make him dance without music. Nobody but such a wicked creature as you could ever invent such scandalous tales, to the ruin of a poor youth who has unhappily fallen into his lord's disgrace.

I invent, why it is in everybody's mouth? The Count discovers himself and comes forward. How? In everybody's mouth? Zounds! Run, Basil, let him have fifty pistols and a horse given him, and sent back to his friends instantly. I'm very sorry, my lord. I happen to speak.

I am quite suffocated. Susan seems almost ready to faint. The Count supports her and Basil assists. Let us seat her in this great chair, Basil. Susan frightened and exclaims. No, I won't sit down. After a pause, This wicked fellow has ruined the poor boy.

I assure you, my lord, what I said was only meant to sound, Susan? No matter, he shall depart, a little wanton, impudent rascal, that I meet at every turning. No longer ago than yesterday I surprised him with the gardener's daughter. Agnes? In her very bedchamber. Where my lord happened to have business himself. I was going there to seek your uncle Antonio, Susan, my drunken gardener. I knocked at the door and waited some time. At last Agnes came, with confusion in her countenance. I entered, cast a look round, and perceiving a kind of long cloak, or curtain, or some such thing, approached,

and without seeming to take the least notice, drew it gently aside, thus, hey! Zanz! The count during his speech approaches the armchair, and acting his description draws aside the gown that hides the page. They all stand motionless with surprise for some time. Why, this is a better trick than Tother. No, I won't sit down. Mimicking Susan. Count to Susan. And so it was to receive this pretty youth that you were so desirous of being alone.

And you, you little villain. What, you don't intend to mend your manners, then? But forgetting all respect for your friend Figaro, and for the Countess your godmother, likewise, you are endeavouring here to seduce her favourite woman. I, however, Turning towards Basil Shall not suffer, Figaro, A man whom, I esteem, sincerely,

To for the victim of such deceit. Did he enter with you, Basil? No, my lord. There is neither victim nor deceit in the case, my lord. He was here when you entered. I hope that's force. His greatest enemy could not wish. him so much mischief.

Knowing that you were very angry with him, the poor boy came running to me, begging me to solicit my lady in his favour, in hopes she might engage you to forgive him, but was so terrified as soon as he heard you coming, that he hid himself in the great chair. A likely story. I sat down in it as soon as I came in. Yes, my lord, but I was then trembling behind it. That's false again, for I hid myself behind it. when Basil entered. Page timidly.

Pardon me, my lord, but as you approached, I retired and crashed down as you now see me. Count angrily. It's a little serpent that glides into every crevice, and he has been listening,

too, to our discourse. Indeed, my lord, I did all I could not to hear a word. Count to Susan. There is no figaro, no husband for you, however. Somebody is coming, gets down.

Enter the Countess, Figaro, Agnes, and Vassels in their holiday clothes. Figaro carrying the nuptial cap, the Count runs and plucks the page from the great chair, just as they enter. What? Would you continue

crouching there before the whole world? The Count and Countess salute. We are come, my lord, to beg a favor, which we hope, for your lady's sake, you will grant. aside to Susan. Be sure to second what I say.

It will end in nothing. No matter. Let us try, at least. You see, my lord, I am supposed to have a much greater degree of influence over you than I really possess. Oh, no, my lady, not an atom, I assure you. Figaro presented the cap to the count. Our petition is that the bride may have the honor of receiving from our worthy Lord's hands, this nuptial cap, ornamented with half-blown roses and white ribbons, symbols of the purity of his

intentions. Do they mean to laugh at me? Aside. And, as you have been kindly pleased to abolish that abominable right, which, as Lord of the Manor you might have claimed, permit us, your vassals, to celebrate your praise in a rustic chorus I have prepared for this occasion. The virtues of so good a master should not remain unsung. a lover a poet and a musician these titles figaro might perhaps merit our indulgence if let me beg my lord you will not deny their request in the name of that love you once had for me and have still madam join with me my friend my lord why should your lord refuse allogiums which you merit so well oh the traitorous aside

Well, well, I consent. Look at her, my lord. Never could a more beauteous bride better prove the greatness of the sacrifice you have made. Oh, do not speak of my beauty, but of his lordship's virtues. My virtues? Yes, yes. I see they understand each other. Aside. Who could tell me where is Marchelina? I met her, my lord, just now, in the close walk by the power.

wall, along with Dr. Bartholo. She seemed in a passion, and the doctor tried to pacify her. I heard her mention my cousin, Figaro's name. Count aside. No cousin yet, my dear, and perhaps never may be. Agnes pointing to the page. Have you forgiven what happened yesterday, my lord? Count afraid lest the countess should hear, and chucking Agnes under the chin. Hush! Figaro to the page. What's the matter, young Hannibal the brave? What makes you so silent? He is sorrowful because my lord is going to send him from the castle. O'rime, my lord. Let me beg you will forgive him. He does not deserve to be forgiven. Consider, he is so young. Count half aside. Not so young, perhaps, as you suppose.

My lord certainly has not ceded away the right to pardon. And if he had, that would certain be the first he would secretly endeavour to reclaim. Looking significantly at the Count of Figaro by turns. Count understanding her. No doubt, no doubt. My conduct, my lord, may have been indiscreet, but I can assure your lordship that never the least word shall pass my lips. Count interrupting him.

Enough, enough. Since everybody begs for him, I must grant, I shall, moreover, give him a company, my regiment. Thanks, but on the condition that he depart immediately for Catalonia to join the Corps.

Oh, my Lord, my Lord. Tomorrow, my Lord. Today, it shall be so. To the page. Take leave of your godmother and beg her protection. The page kneels to the Countess with a sorrowful air. As he approaches

to kneel, he goes very slowly, and Figaro gently pushes him forward. Go. Go, child, go. Countess, with great emotion. Since it is not possible to obtain leave for you to remain here today, depart, young man, and follow the noble career which lies before you. Forget not those with whom you have spent some of the first years of your life, and among whom you have friends who wish you. you every success. Go where fortune and glory call. Be obedient, polite, and brave, and be certain we shall take part in your prosperity. Raises him. You seem agitated, madam. How can I help it? Recollecting the perils to which his youth must be exposed. He has been

bread in the same house with me, is of the same kindred, and is likewise my godson. Count aside. Basil, I see, was in the right. Turns to the page. Go. Kiss Susan for the last time. The page and Susan approach. Figaro steps between them and intercepts the page. Oh, there is no occasion for kissing, my lord. He'll return in the winter, and in the meantime he

may kiss me. The scene must now be changed, my delicate youth. You must not run upstairs and down, into the woman's chambers, play at hunt a slipper, steal cream, suck oranges, and live upon sweetmeats. Instead of that, Zounds. You must look bluff. Tann your face, handle your musket, turn to the right, wheel to the left, and march to glory. At least, if you are not stopped short by a bullet. "'Fie, Figuero!' "'Countess terrified.' "'What a prophecy! "'Were I a soldier,

"'I would make some of them scamper. "'But come, come, my friends. "'Let us prepare our feast against the evening. "'Marcelina, I hear, intends to disturb our diversions. "'That she will, I can assure you.' "'Aside.' "'I must go and send for her.' "'Going.'

"'You will not leave us, my lord.' i am undressed you see we shall see nobody but our own servants i must do what you please wait for me in the study basil exuant count countess and vassals men at figaro basil and page figuro retains the page come come let us study our parts well for the play in the evening and do not let us resemble those actors who never play so ill as on the first night of a piece when criticism is made most watchful to detect errors, and when they ought to play the best. We shall not have an opportunity of playing better tomorrow. My part is more difficult than you imagine. And you may be rewarded for it, in a manner you little expect. Aside.

You forget, Fagaro, that I am going. And you wish to stay? In the same sorrowful tone. Page sighs. Ah, yes. Follow my advice, and so thou shalt. How, how? Make no murmuring, but clap on your boots, and seem to depart.

Gallop as far as the farm, return to the castle on foot, enter by the back way, and hide yourself till I can come to you. And who shall teach Agnes her part, then? Oh, ho! Why, what the devil have you been about, young gentleman, for these eight days past, during which you have hardly ever left her. Take care, Hannibal, take care,

or your scholar will give her tutor a bad character. Ah, Hannibal, Hannibal, the pitcher that goes often to the well. Listen to the pedant and his proverb. Well, and what says the wisdom of nations? The pitcher that goes often to the well. stands a chance sometime to return full. Hmm, not so foolish as I thought.

End of Act 1. Act 2 of the follies of a day, or the marriage of Figuero, English, by Pierre Beaumache, translated by Thomas Holcroft. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, Please visit Libravox.org. Act 2. Seeing the Countess's Bed Chamber.

A state bed in the background under an alcove. Three doors, one the entrance into the room, another into Susan's room, and the third to the Countess's dressing room, a large window that opens to the street. The Countess seated Susan waiting. Shut the door, and so the page was hid behind the great chair. Yes, madam. But how did he happen to be in your room, Susan? The poor boy came to beg I would prevail on you to obtain his pardon of my lord the count.

But why did he not come to me himself? I should not have refused him a favor of that kind. Bashfulness, madam. Oh, Susan, said he. She is a divinity. How noble is her manner? Her very smiles are awful. Countess smiling. Is that true, Susan? Can you doubt it, madam? I have always afforded him my

protection. Had you, madam, but seen him snatch the ribbon from me? Countess rising. Sure. Enough of this nonsense. And so, my lord the Count, Count, endeavors to seduce you, Susan. Oh, no, indeed, madam. He does not give himself the trouble to seduce. He endeavors to purchase me. and because I refuse him, will certainly prevent my marriage with Figuero and support the pretensions of Marcellina. Fear nothing. We shall have need, however, of a little artifice, perhaps,

in the execution of which Figuero's assistance may not be amiss. He will be here, madam, as soon as my lord has gone a coursine. Your lord is an ungrateful man, Susan. An ungrateful man. The Countess walks up and down the room, with some emotion. Open the window.

I am stifled for want of air. Vows, protestations, and tenderness are all forgotten. My love offends, my caresses disgust. He thinks his own infidelities must all be overlooked, yet my conduct must be irreproachable. Susan at the window looking into the street. Yonder goes my lord with all his grooms and greyhounds. To divert himself with hunting a poor, timid, harmless hair to death. This, however, will give us time.

Somebody knocks, Susan. For Figaro's the lad, is the lad for me. Go singing to the door. Enter Figaro. He kisses Susan's hand. She makes signs to him to be more prudent and points to the Countess. Well, Figaro, you have heard of my lord the Count's designs on your young bride.

Oh, yes, my lady. There was nothing very surprising in the news. My lord sees a sweet, young, lovely angel. Susan Kurtzies. And wishes to have her for himself. Can anything be more natural? I wish the very same. I don't find it so very pleasant, Figaro.

He endeavors to overturn the schemes of those who oppose his wishes. and in this he only follows the example of the rest of the world. I endeavour to do the very same. But with less probability of success, Figaro. Follow my advice, and I'll convince you of your mistake. Let me hear. You, my lovely Susan, must appoint the Count to meet him, as he proposed this evening, by the pavilion in the garden.

How, Figaro, can you consent? And why not, madam? But if you can, sir, do you think I... Nay, my charmer. Do not imagine I would wish thee to grant him anything thou wishest to refuse. But first, we must dress up the page in your clothes, my dear Susan. He is to be your representative. The page! He is gone.

Is he? Perhaps so. But a whistle from me will bring him back. The Countess seems pleased. So, now Figaro's happy, plots and contrivances. Two, three, four at a time. Embarrassed, involved, perplexed. Leave me to unravel them. I was born to thrive in courts.

I have heard the trait of accordier is not so difficult as some pretend. Ask for everything that falls, sees everything in your power, and accept everything that's offered. There is the whole art and mystery in three words. Well, but the Count, Figuero. Permit me, madam, to manage him. And first, the better to secure my property, I shall begin by making him dread the loss of his own.

Oh, what pleasure shall I have in cutting out employment for him during the whole day, to see him waste that time in jealousy watching your conduct, madam, which he meant to employ an amorous dalliance with my sweet bride, to behold him running here and there and he does not know where, and hunting a monstrous shadow, which he dreads to find, yet longs to grasp. Surely, Figaro, you are out of your wits. Pardon, my dear lady, but it is your good lord who will soon be out of his wits. But as you know him to be so jealous, how will you dare?

Oh, madam. Were he not jealous, my scheme would not be worth a doid. But it will now serve a double purpose. The jewel which possession has made him neglect will again become valuable, if once he can be brought to dread its loss. To confess the truth, Figaro, your project exactly corresponds with the one I meant to practice. An anonymous letter must be sent, informing him that a gallant meaning to profit by a his neglect. An absence is at present with his beauteous countess. The thing is already done, madam. How? Have you dared to trifle thus with a woman of honor? Oh, madam, it is only with a woman of honor I should presume to take a liberty like this.

At least my joke should happen to prove a reality. Countess Miles. You don't want an agreeable excuse, Figaro. The hour of performing the marriage ceremony will arrive post-haste. He will be disconcerted, and having no good excuse ready, will never venture in your presence, madam, to oppose our union. But if he will not, Marcellino will, and thou wilt be condemned to pay. Pugh! Thou hast forgot the count as our judge, and after being entrapped at the rendezvous, will he condemn us, thinkest thou?

But come, come, we must be quick. I'll send the page hither to be dressed. We must not lose a moment. Exit Figaro. Countess examining her headdress in a pocket-looking class. What a hideous cap this is, Susan. It is quite awry. This youth who is coming. Ah, madam, your beauty needs not the addition of art in his eyes. And my hair, too. I assure you, Susan, I shall be very severe with him. Susan smoothing the Countess's hair. Let me spread this curl a little, madam.

Oh, pray, madam, make him sing the song he has written. Susan throws the song into the Countess's lap, which the page had given her. I shall tell him of all the complaints I hear against him. Oh, yes, madam, I can see you will scold him heartily. Countess, seriously. What do you say, Susan? Susan goes to the door. Come.

Come in, Mr. Soldier. Enter page. Susan pretends to threaten him by signs. Um... Pouts aside. Well, young gentleman. With assumed severity. How innocent he looks, Susan.

Aside to Susan. And how bashful, madam. Countess resuming her serious air. Have you reflected on the duties of your new profession? The page imagines the countess the countess the Countess is angry and timidly draws back. Susan aside to the page. Aye, aye, young Rake, I'll tell all I know. Returns to the Countess. Observe his downcast eyes, madam, and long eyelashes.

Aside to the page. Yes, hypocrite, I'll tell. Countess seeing the page more and more fearful. Nay, Hannibal, don't be terrified. I... come nearer. Susan pushing him towards the Countess. Advance, modesty. Poor youth, he is quite affected. I am not angry with you. I was only going to speak to you on the duties of a soldier.

Why do you seem so sorrowful? Alas, madam, I may well be sorrowful, being as I am, obliged to leave a lady so gentle and so kind. And so beautiful. In the same tone and half a side. Oh, yes. Ah, yes. Come, come, let me try on one of my gowns upon you.

Come here. Let us measure. I declare the little villain is not so tall as I am. Um. Pouts. Turn about. Let me untie your cloak. Susan takes off the page's cloak. But suppose somebody should come. Dear, my lady, we are not doing any harm.

I'll lock the door, however, for fear. The page casts a glance or two at the Countess. Susan returns. Well, have you nothing to say to my beauteous lady and your charming godmother? Paige sighs. Oh, yes, that I am sure I shall love her, as long as I live. Esteem, you mean, Hannibal? Yes, esteem, I should have said.

Susan laughs. Yes, yes, esteem. The poor youth overflows with esteem and affection and... Um... Aside to Susan. Nia, Nia, Nia. Mocking the page. Dear madam, do make him sing those good-for-nothing verses. Countess takes the verses Susan gave her from her pocket. Pray, who wrote them?

Susan pointing to the page. Look, madam, look. His sins rise in his face. Nobody but an author could look so silly. Come, Hannibal. Sing. Ah, the bashful scribbler. To the winds, to the waves, to the wounds, I complain, how well a day, my poor heart.

They he did not my sighs, and they heed not my pain. A well-a-day, my poor heart The name of goddess I grave on each tree Ah, well-a-day, my poor heart Tears I wound the buck, but the sarahs wound me Ah, well-a-day, my poor heart the heavens i view with azure bright skies are well a day my poor heart and to me are still brighter eyes a well a day my poor heart to the sun's morning splendour the poor indian bows a well a day my poor heart but all the day my poor

but i did not worship where i pay my vales how well a day my poor heart his god each morning rises and he can adore how well a day my poor heart fondest to be must soon never rise more During the song, the Countess, is evidently affected by the passion with which the page sings. Now let us try whether one of my caps. There is one of mine lies on my dressing table. Exit Susan to the dressing room of the Countess. Is your commission made out? Or yes, madam, and given me, here it is.

Presents his commission to the Countess. "'Already. They have made haste, I see. They are not willing to lose a moment. Their hurry has made them even forget to affix the seal.' "'Susan returns.' "'The seal. To what, madam?' "'His commission.' "'So soon?' "'I was observing. There has been no time lost.' "'Returns the page his commission. He sticks it in his girdle.

"'Come.' "'Makes the page Neil down. down and puts him on the cap. What a pretty little villain it is. I declare I am jealous. See if he is not handsomer than I am. Turn about. There.

What's here? The riband. So, so, so. Now all is out. I'm glad of it. I told my young gentleman I would let you know his thievish tricks, madam. Fetch me some black patches, Susan. Exit Susan to her chamber.

The Countess and the page remain mute for a considerable time, during which the page looks at the Countess with great passion, though with the bashful sideglances natural to his character. The Countess pretends not to observe him, and visibly makes several efforts to overcome her own feelings. And so you are sorry to leave us? Yes, madam. Countess, observing the Page's heart so full that he is ready to burst into tears.

Tis that good-for-nothing, Figaro, who has frightened the child with his prognostics. Page, unable to contain himself any longer. No, indeed, madam, I am only grieved apart from so dear a lady. Countess takes out her handkerchief and wipes his eyes. Nay, but don't weep, don't weep. Come, come, be comforted. A knocking is heard at the Countess's chamber door. Who's there?

The Count speaks without. Open the door, my lady. Heavens, it is the Count. I am ruined. If he finds the page here after receiving Figaro's anonymous letter, I shall be forever lost. But imprudence! Why don't you open the door?

Because I'm alone. Alone? Who are you talking to then? To you, to be sure. How could I be so thoughtless, this villainous Figaro? After the scene of the great chair this morning, he will certainly murder me if he finds me here. Run into my dressing room and lock the door on the inside. The Countess opens the door to the Count.

Enter the count. You did not use to lock yourself in when you were alone, madam. Who were you speaking to? Countess endeavouring to conceal her agitation. To Susan, who is rummaging in her own room. But you seem agitated, madam. That is not impossible. Affecting to take a serious error.

We were speaking of you. Of me? Your jealousy, your indifference, my lord. I cannot say for indifference, my lady, and as for jealousy, you know best whether I have any cause. My lord! In short, my lady, there are people in the world who are malicious enough to wish to disturb either your repose or mine. I have received private advice that a certain thing called a lover. Lover?

I, or gallant, or any other title you like best, meant to take advantage of a lover, my absence and introduce himself into the castle. If there even were anyone audacious enough to make such an attempt, he would find himself disappointed of meeting me, for I shall not stir out of my room today. What? Not to the wedding? I am indisposed. It's lucky then that the doctor is here.

The page oversets a table in the Countess's dressing room. Countess is terrified. What will become of me? Aside. What noise is that? I heard no noise. No, you must be confoundedly absent, then. Countess affecting to return his irony.

Oh, to be sure. But there is somebody in your dressing-room, madam. Who should there be? That's what I want to know. It is Susan, I suppose, putting the chairs and tables to rights. What? Your favourite woman turned housemaid. You told me just now she was in her own room.

In her room or my room, it is all one. Really, my lady, this Susan of yours is a very nimble, convenient kind of person. Really, my lord, this Susan of mine disturbs your quiet very much. Very true, my lady, so much that I am determined to see her. These suspicions are very much to your credit, my lord. If they are not to your discredit, my lady, it is very easy to remove them. But I see you mean to trifle with me. He goes to the countess's dressing-room door and calls.

Susan? Susan. If Susan you are, come forth. Very well, my lord, very well. Would you have the girl come out half-undressed? She is trying on one of my left-off dresses. To disturb female privacy in this manner, my lord, is certainly very unprecedented. During the warmth of this dispute, Susan comes from her own room, perceives what is passing, and after listening long enough to know how to act,

slips unseen by both behind the curtains of the bed, which stands in the alcove. Well, if she can't come out, she can answer at least. Susan? Answer me, Susan. I say, do not answer, Susan. I forbid you to speak a word. We shall see who she'll obey.

But if you are so innocent, madam, what is the reason for that emotion and perplexity so very evident in your countenance? Countess, affecting to laugh. Emotion and perplexity! Ridiculous! Well, madam, be it as ridiculous as it may, I am determined to be satisfied,

and I think present appearances give me a sufficient plea. goes to the side of the scenes and calls. Hello? Who waits there? Do. Do, my lord, expose your jealousy to your very servants. Make yourself and me the jest of the whole world. Why do you oblige me to it? However, madam, since you will not suffer that door to be opened, will you please to accompany me while I procure an instrument to force it?

To be sure, my lord, to be sure, if you will, please. And in order that you may be fully justified, I will make this other door fast. Goes to Susan's chamber door, locks it, and takes the key. As to the Susan of the dressing room, she must have the complacence to wait my return. This behavior is greatly to your honor, my lord. This speech is heard as they are going through the door, which the count locks after him. Exuant. Enter Susan peeping as they go off. then runs to the dressing-room door and calls. Hannibal! Hannibal! Open the door! Quick! Quick! It is I, Susan!

Enter Paige, frightened. Oh, Susan! Oh, my poor mistress! What will become of her? What will become of my marriage? What will become of me? Don't stand babbling here, but fly! The doors are all fast. How can I fly? Don't ask me! Fly!

Here's a window open Runs to the window Underneath is a bed of flowers I'll leap out Susan screams You'll break your neck Better that Then ruin my dear lady

Give me one kiss Susan Was there ever seen such a young Paige kisses her Runs and leaps out of the window And Susan shrieks at seeing him Ah Susan sinks into a chair

overcome with fear. At last she takes courage, rises, goes with dread towards the window, and after looking out, runs round with her hand upon her heart, a sigh of relief and a smile, expressing a sudden ease and pleasure. He is safe. Yonder he runs, as light and as swift as the winds. If that boy does not make some woman's heartache, I'm mistaken. Susan goes towards the dressing-room door, enters and peeps out as she is going to shut it. And now, my good jealous count, perhaps I may teach you to break open doors another time. Locks herself in. Enter count with a wrenching iron in one hand and leading in the countess with the other.

Goes and examines the doors. Everything is as I left it. We now shall come to an ecclese-sissimo. But my lord! He'll murder him. Aside. Now we shall know. Do you still persist in forcing me to break open this door?

I'm determined to see who's within. Let me beg, my lord. You'll have a moment's patience. Hear me only, and you shall satisfy your utmost curiosity. Let me entreat you to be assured that, however appearances may condemn me, No injury was intended to your honour. Then there is a man.

No, none of whom you can reasonably entertain the least suspicion. How? A jest, a mere innocent, harmless frolic for our evening's diversion. Nothing more upon my honour, on my soul. But who? Who is it? A child! Let us see your child. What's child?

Hannibal. The page. Turns away. This damnable page again. Thus then is the letter. Thus are my suspicions realized at last. I am now no longer astonished, madam, at your emotion for your pretty godson this morning. The whole is unravelled.

Come forth, Viper. In great wrath. Countess, Territus. and trembling. Do not let the disorder in which you will see him. The disorder? The disorder. We were going to dress him in women's clothes for our evening's diversion.

I'll stab him. I'll... And this is your indisposition. This is why you would keep your chamber all day. False, unworthy woman. You shall keep it longer than you expected. I'll make him a terrible example of an injured husband's wrath. husband's wrath.

Countess falling on her knees between the count and the door. Hold, my lord, hold. Or let your anger light on me. I alone am guilty, if there be any guilt. Have pity on his youth, his infancy. What, intercede for him, on your knees, and to me, they're wanted but this. I'll rack him.

Rise, I'll... Promise me. to spare his life. Rise. The Countess rises terrified and sinks into an armchair ready to faint. He'll murder him.

Come forth, I say, once more, or I'll drag. While the Count is speaking, Susan unlocks the door and bolts out upon him. I'll stab him, I'll rack him. The Countess,

at hearing Susan's voice, recovers sufficiently to look round, is astonished, endeavors to collect herself, and turns back into her former position to conceal her surprise. Count after standing fixed some time, and first looking at Susan, and then at the Countess. Here's a seminary. And you can act astonishment too, madam. Observing the Countess who cannot totally hide her surprise. Countess attempting to speak. I, my lord!

Count recollecting himself. But perhaps she was not alone. Enteres the dressing-room. Countess again alarmed. Susan runs to the Countess. Fear nothing. He is not here. He has jumped out of the window. And broke his neck. Her terror returns. Hush.

Susan claps herself bolt upright against her lady to hide her new disorder from the Count. Hem, hem! re enter count greatly abashed nobody there i have been to blame approaching the countess madam with great submission as if going to beg her pardon but the confusion still visible in her countenance calls up the recollection of all that had just passed and he bursts out into an exclamation upon my soul madam you are a most excellent actress And am I not too, my lord? You see my confusion, madam. Be generous. As you have been.

Hush! Make signs to Susan to take his part. My dear Rosina. No, no, my lord. I am no longer that Rosina whom you formerly loved with such affection. I am now nothing but the poor Countess of Alma Viva, a neglected wife, and not a beloved mistress. Nay, do not make my humiliation too severe.

His suspicions again impart to revive. But wherefore, my lady, have you been thus mysterious on this occasion? That I might not betray that headlong, thoughtless figaro. What? He wrote the anonymous billet, then. It was without my knowledge, my lord. But you were afterwards informed of it? Certainly. Who did he give it to?

Basil. Who sent it to me by a peasant? Indeed, Mr. Basil, yes, vile thrummer, thou shalt pay for all. But where is the justice of refusing that pardon to others we stand so much in need of ourselves? If ever I could be brought to forgive, it should only be on condition of passing a general amnesty. I acknowledge my guilt. countess stands in the middle of the stage, the count a little in the background, as if expressive of his timidity, but his countenance shows he is confident of obtaining his pardon. Susan stands forwarder than either, and her looks are significantly applicable to the

circumstances of both parties. To suspect a man in my lady's dressing-room. And to be thus severely punished for my suspicion. Not to believe my lady when she assured you it was her woman. Ah! With affected confusion. Dane, Madam, once more, to repeat my pardon. Have I already pronounced it, Susan? Not that I heard, madam.

Let the gentle sentence then escape. And do you merit it, ungrateful man? With tinderness, Count looking at Susan, who returns his look. Certainly, my lady. A fine example I set you, Susan. The Count takes her hand and kisses it. Who hereafter will dread a woman's anger? Countess turns her head towards Susan, and laughs as they say this.

Susan, in the same tone. Yes, yes, madam, I observe. Men may well accuse us a frailty. And yet I cannot, for the soul of me, forget the agony, Resina, in which you seem to be just now. Your cries, your tears, your, how was it possible this being a fiction? You should so suddenly give it the tragic tone of a reality. Ha ha, ha, ah, so astonishingly natural. You see your page, and I dare say your lordship was not sorry for the mistake. I'm sure the sight of Susan does not give you offence.

Offense. Oh, no, no, no. But what's the reason, you malicious little hussy, you did not come when I called? What, undressed, my lord? But why didn't you answer, then? My lady forbade me, and good reason she had to do so. Such distraction in your countenance.

To the countess, sir. Nay, it's not calm even yet. Oh, you, you fancy so, my lord. Men, I perceive, are poor politicians. Women make children of us. Were his majesty wise, he would name you and not me for his ambassador. Interfigurelchirfully, perceives the Count, who puts on a very serious error. They told me my lady was indisposed.

I ran to inquire, and am very happy to find there was nothing in it. You are very attentive. It is my duty so to be, my lord. turns to Susan Come, come, my charmer prepare for the ceremony Go to your bridesmaids But who is to guard the countess

In the meantime Guard her, my lord My lady seems very well She wants no guarding From the gallant who is to profit By my absence Susan and the Countess make signs To Figaro

Nay, nay, Figuero The Count knows all Yes, yes, yes we have told my lord everything the just is ended it's all over the just is ended and it's all over yes ended ended ended and all over what have you to say to that say my lord the confusion of figaro arises from not supposing it possible the countess and susan should have betrayed him and when he understood stand something by their signs from not knowing how much they have told. I say. I, I, I wish I could say as much of my marriage.

And who wrote the pretty letter? Not I, my lord. If I did not know thou liest, I could read it in thy face. Indeed, my lord. Then it is my face that lies, and not I. Figuero, why should you indeed? to conceal anything when I tell you we have confessed all. Susan making signs to Figaro.

We have told my lord of the letter, which made him suspect that Hannibal, the page, who is far enough off by this, was hid in my lady's dressing room where I myself was locked in. Well, well, since my lord will have it so, and my lady will have it so, and you all will have it so, why, then, so lest, Let it be. Still at his wiles. Why, my lord, would you oblige him to speak truth, so much against his inclination? Count and countess walk familiarly up the stage.

Hast thou seen the page? Yes, yes. You have shook his young joints for him, among you. Enter Antonia the gardener, with a broken flower-pot under his arm, half-drunk. My lord, my good lord. If so be as your lordship will not have the goodness to have these windows nailed up, I shall never have a nosegay fit to give to my lady. They break all my pots and spoil my flowers,

for they not only throw other rubbish out of the windows, as they used to do, but they have just now tossed out a man. A man. The Count's suspicions all revive. In white stockings. Countess and Susan discover their fears and make signs to Figuero to assist them if possible. Where is the man?

That's what I want to know, my lord. I wish I could find him. I am your lordship's gardener, and, though I say it, a better gardener is not to be found in all Spain, but if chambermaids are permitted to toss men out of the windows to save their own reputation, what is to become of mine? It will wither with my flowers, to be sure. Oh, fie, what's sodding so soon in a morning?

Why? Can one begin one's day's work too early? Your day's work, sir. Your lordship knows my niece. There, she stands. Is to be married today, and I am sure she would never forgive me if... If you were not to get drunk an hour sooner than usual, but on with your story, sir. What of the man? What followed? I followed him myself, my lord, as fast as I could, but... Somehow, I unluckily happened to make a false step,

and came with such a confounded whirl against the garden gates that I... I quite for... forgot my errand. And should you know this man again? To be sure I should, my lord, if I had seen him, that is. Either speak more clearly, rascal, or I'll send you packing to... Send me packing, my lord. Oh no. If your lordship has not enough, enough... points to his forehead.

To know when you have a good gardener, I warned I know when I have a good place. There is no occasion, my lord, for all this mystery. It was I who jumped out of the window into the garden. You. My own self, my lord. Jump out over one pair of stairs' window and run the risk of breaking your neck.

The ground was soft, my lord. And his neck is in no danger of being broken. To be sure, I hurt my right leg a little in the fall, just here at the ankle. I feel it still. Rubbing his ankle. But what reason had you to jump out of the window? You had received my letter, my lord, since I must own it, and was come, somewhat sooner than I expected, in a dreadful passion in search of a man.

If it was you, you have grown plaguy fast within this half hour, to my thinking. The man that I saw Did not seem so tall by the head and shoulders Bisha Does not one double oneself up When one takes a leap? It seemed a great deal more like the page The page

Oh yes, to be sure The page is galloped back from Seville Horse and all To leap out of the window? No, no, my lord I saw no such thing I'll take my oath I saw no horse leap out of the window.

Calm, calm. Let us prepare for our sport. Well, since it was you, as I am an honest man, I ought to return you this paper which dropped out of your pocket as you fell. Count snatches the paper. The Countess, Figuero and Susan, are all surprised and embarrassed. Figuero shakes himself and endeavors to recover his fortitude. I, since it was you, you doubt can tell what this paper contains.

Claps the paper behind his back as he faces Figuero. And how it happened to come in your pocket. Oh, my lord, I have such quantities of papers. Searches his pockets, pulls out a great many. No, it is not this. Hmm. This is a double love letter from Marcellina in seven pages. Hmm, hmm.

It would do a man's heart good to read it. Hmm. And this is a petition from the poor poacher in prison. I never presented it to your lordship, because I know you have affairs much more serious on your hands, than the complaints of such half-starved rascals. Ah, this, this, no. This is an inventory of her lordship's sword-knots, ruffs, ruffles, and roses. Hmm, must take care of this.

Endeavors to gain time, and keeps glancing inhumming to Susan and the Countess, to look at the paper and give him a hint. It is neither this, nor this, nor that, nor t'other, that you have in your hand, but what I hold here in mind that I want to know the contents of— holds out the paper in action as he speaks. The Countess who stands next him catches a sight of it. Tis the commission. Aside to Susan.

The page is commission. Aside to Figaro. Well, sir, so you know nothing of the matter? Antonio rills round to Vigoro. My lord says you know nothing of the matter. Keep off, and don't come to whisper me. Pretending to recollect himself. Oh, Lord, Lord, what a stupid fool I am.

I declare it is the commission of that poor youth Hannibal, which I, like a blockhead, forgot to return him. He will be quite unhappy about it, poor boy. And how came you by it? By it, my lord? Why did he give it to you? To, to, to... To what?

To get? To get what? It wants nothing. Countess to Susan. It wants the seal. Susan to Figaro. It wants the seal. Oh, my lord. What it wants to be sure is a mere trifle.

What trifle? You know, my lord, it's customary to... To what? To affix your lordship's seal. Count looks at the commission, finds the seal as wanting, and exclaims with vexation and disappointment. The devil and his imps.

It has written, Count, thou shalt be a dupe. Where is this Marchelina? Going. Are you going, my lord, without giving orders for our wedding? Enter Marcellina, Basil, Bounce, and Vassel. The Count returns.

Forbear, my lord, to give such orders. Injustness, forbear. I have a written promise under his hand, and I appeal to you to redress my injuries. You are my lawful judge. Piaa, a trifle, my lord. A note of hand for money borrowed. Nothing more. Let the advocates and officers of justice be assembled in the Great Hall. We will there determine on the justice of your claim. It becomes us not to suffer any vassal of ours, however we may privately esteem him to be guilty of public injury. Your lordship is acquainted with my claims on Marshalina. I hope your lordship will grant me your support. Oh, oh, are you there, Prince of Naves? Yes, that's his title. Sure enough. Approach, honest Basil, faithful agent of our will and pleasure.

Basil bows. Go order the lawyers to assemble. My lord? And tell the peasant, by whom you sent me the letter this morning, I want to speak with him. Your lordship is pleased to joke with your humble servant. I know no such peasant. You'll be pleased to find him, notwithstanding. My office, in this house, as your lordship knows, is no.

to go on errands. Think, my lord, how that would degrade a man of my talents, who have the honour to teach my lady, the harpsichord, the mandolin to her woman, and to entertain your lordship and your lordship's good company with my voice and my guitar, whenever your lordship pleases to honour me with your commands. I will go if your lordship pleases to let me.

I should be very glad to oblige your lordship. What's thy name? Pedro bouts, my lord. Firework maker to your lordship. Thy zeal pleases me, thou shalt go. Thank your lordship, thank your noble lordship. Leaps, Count de Basel. And do you be pleased, sir, to entertain the gentleman on his journey,

With your voice and your guitar, he is part of my good company. Bounce Leaps. I am part of my Lord's good company. Who would have thought it? My Lord? Depart. Obey. Or depart from my service.

Exit. Tis in vain to resist. Shall I wage a war with a lion, who am only... A calf. But can. You seem vexed about it. I will open the ball. Strike up.

Tis my Susan's wedding day. Come along, Mr. Bounce. Basil begins to play. Figaro dances and sings off before him, and Bounce follows dancing after. Exuant. Menot, Countess, and Susan. You see, Susan, to what danger I have been exposed by Figaro

and his fine concerted billy. it. Dear, madam, if you had but seen yourself when I bounced out upon my lord, so pale, such terror in your countenance, and then you were suddenly assumed tranquility. Oh, no, every faculty was lost in my fears. I assure your ladyship to the contrary. In a few lessons you would learn to disassemble and fib with as good a grace as any lady in the land. And so that poor child jumped out of the window? without the least hesitation, as light and as cheerful as a linnet. I wish, however, I could convict my false count of his infidelity. The page will never dare, after this, to make a second attempt.

Huh, a lucky project. I will meet him myself, and then nobody will be exposed. But suppose, madam, my success has emboldened me, and I am determined to try, sees the riband left on the chair. What's here? My ribbon. I will keep it as a memento of the danger to which that poor youth. Ah, my lord, yet let me have a care. Let me look to myself, to my own conduct, lest I shall give occasion to say, ah, my lady. The Countess puts the riband in her pocket. You must not mention a word of this, Susan, to any way.

anybody. Except Figuero? No exceptions. He must not be told he will spoil it by mixing some plot of his own with it. I have promised thee a portion thou knowest. These men are liberal in their pleasures. Perhaps I may double it for thee. It will be Susan's right. Your project is a charming one, madam, and I shall yet have my figaro. Exit Susan kissing the countess's hand. End of Act 2. Act 3 of the Follies of a Day, or the Marriage of Figuero, English, by Pierre Beaumarche, translated by Thomas Holcroft. 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 Great Hall A judge's chair, four other chairs, benches and red bays, a table and a stool with pin, ink and paper. Enter the count dressed and a servant booted. Ride to Seville with all speed, inquire if the page has joined his regiment, and at what o'clock precisely he arrived. Give him this commission, and return like lightning. And if he is not there? Return still quicker.

Go! fly. Exit servant. I was wrong to send Basil out of the way. He might have been very serviceable, but anger was never wise. I scarcely know at present what I wish. When once the passions have obtained the mastery, there is no mind, however consistent, but becomes as wild and incongruous as a dream.

If the Countess Susan and Figaro should understand, each other and plot to betray me. If the page was shut up in her dressing-room, oh, no. The respect she bears herself. My honour, my honour, and in my wife's keeping, honour in a woman's possession, like ice-cream in the mouth, melts away in a contest of pleasure and pain. I will sound figaro, however. Interfiguro behind. Here I'm on. Here I'm on. I. Aside. And if I have reason to suppose them plotting against me, he shall marry Marcellina. Perhaps not.

But in that case, what must Susan be? My wife, if you please. Figaro's eagerness occasions him to speak aloud. The count turns round astonished. My wife, if you please? To whom did you say my wife, if you please? To, to, two, two. that is, they were the last words of a sentence I was saying to one of the servants. Go and tell so and so to my wife, if you please.

Your wife? Zounds, you are very fond of your wife. I love to be singular. You have made me wait for you here, a long while. I have been changing my stockings, which I dirtied in the fall. Servants, I think, are longer dressing than their masters. Well, they may. They are obliged to dress themselves. If, in sifting, my gentleman, I find him unwilling to go to France, I may conclude Susan has betrayed me. Aside.

He has mischief in his head, but I'll watch his motions. Count approaches, Figaro with familiarity. Thou knowest, Figaro, it was my intention to have taken thee with me on my embassy to Paris. but I believe thou dost not understand French. Perfectly. Indeed, let's hear. Figaro pulls out his person, jingles it. Is that all the French thou understandest?

All, is that not enough, thank you, my lord? That's a language understood in every corner of the habitable earth, and in no place better than in Paris. Your philosophers, who lament the loss of a universal language, are fools. They always carry one in their pockets. As for a knowledge of French, my lord, I maintain, Silvou play, and a purse are all this necessary. Let but the sound of silver jingle in a Frenchman's ears,

and he will instantly understand your meaning, be it what it will. If you have a lawsuit and wish to gain your cause, go to the judge, pull off your hat, and pull out your purse, smile, shake it, and pronounce, S'Uv'Uple, monsieur. And your adversary is overthrown. Undoubtedly, unless he understands French still better than you, do you wish the friendship of a great lord or a great lady, it's still the same? Chink, chink, and, si'uplei, monseigneur,

S'you-v-v-ple, madame. The French are of very witty people, amazingly quick of apprehension. Therefore, my lord, if you have no other reason than this for leaving me behind... But thou art no politician. Pardon me, my lord. I am as great a master of politics. As thou art of French. Oh, my lord, the thing is so easy. He must be a fool indeed who could find his vanity flattered by his skill in politics.

to appear always deeply concerned for the good of the state, yet to have no other end but self-interest, to assemble and say nothing, to pretend vast secrecy when there is nothing to conceal, to shut yourself up in your chamber, and mend your pen or pick your teeth, while your footmen inform the attending crowd you are too busy to be approached. This, and the art of intercepting letters, imitating hands, pensioning traitors, and rewarding flatterers, is the whole mystery of politics, or I am an idiot. This is the definition of a partisan, not a politician. Party and politics are much the same.

They are become synonymous terms. Count aside. Since he is so willing to go to Paris, Susan has said nothing. It is now my turn to attack. Aside. And I suppose thou wilt take thy wife with thee to Paris. No, no. I should be obliged to quit her so frequently

that I am afraid the cares of the marriage date would lie too heavy on my head. Susan has betrayed me. He does not like the retort. The Count smiles, approaches Figuero with great familiarity, and leans upon his shoulder. By play between the Count and Figuero. The time was Figuero when thou wert more open. Formerly that would tell me anything.

And at present I can tell me. conceal nothing. What can be the Countess's motives? The Count puts his arm round Figaro's neck, by playing again. Aye, thou seest I anticipate her wishes, load her with presents. We'll give her anything but yourself. Of what worth our trinkets, when we are in want of necessaries? Come, come, be sincere.

Tell me, how much did the Countess give thee for this last plot? as much as your lordship gave me for helping you to steal her from her old jealous guardian a noble lord should not endeavour to degrade an honest servant lest he should make him a knave but wherefore is there continually some mystery in thy conduct because the conduct of others is mysterious appearances my dear figaro really speak thee a great knave Figuero looking round at the Count's hand upon his shoulders, and observing his familiarity. Appearances, my dear Lord, are frequently false. I am much better than I appear to be. Can the great, in general, say as much? Assigned. Take the that.

Yes, yes, she has told him. I shall content myself, my lord. With the portion your lordship has promised me on my marriage. and the place of steward of this castle, with which you have honoured me, and willingly remain with my wife, here and under Lucia, far from troubles and intrigue. But thou hast abilities, and might rise to preferment. Preferred by my abilities, my lord? Your lordship is pleased to laugh at me. Yes, yes, Susan has betrayed me, and my gentleman marries Marchelina.

Aside. He has been angry. for Gudgeons, and what has he caught? Enter a servant. Don Guzman, and the counsellors, are without. Let them wait. Aye, let them wait. Exit servant.

And dost thou expect to gain thy cause? With the assistance of justice and my lord's good wishes, who respects youth too much himself to force others to wed with age. A judge knows no distinction of persons. Well, time, say the Italians, is a valiant fellow and tells truth. But what was it your lordship was pleased to send for me for? For, um, somewhat embarrassed. To see these benches and chairs set in order.

That is already done, my lord. Here is the great chair for your lordship, a seat for the president, a table and stool for his clerk, two benches for the lawyers, the middle for the Beaumonde, and the mob in the background. Exit. He is too cunning. I can get nothing out of him, but they certainly understand each other. They may toy and be as loving as they please, but as for wedding.

Enter Susan. She comes up to the Count's elbow while he is speaking, and is surprised to see him in such an ill humor. My lord? My lady. My lady has sent for your lordship's smelling bottle. She has got the vapours. Here, and when she is done with it, borrow it for yourself.

It may be useful. Aye, the vapors, my lord. Oh, no, that's too polite a disease for a servant to pretend to. Fits may come. Love, so violent as yours, cannot bear disappointment. And when Figuero marries Marchelina, Oh, suppose the worst, my lord. We can pay Marcellino with the portion your lordship has promised us.

I promised you a portion. If my ears did not deceive me, I understood as much. Yes, if you had pleased to understand me, but since you do not— Susan pretending bashfulness. It's always soon enough to own one's weakness, my lord. Count with an instant change of countenance. What? Wilt thou take a walk this evening in the garden by the pavilion?

Don't I take walks every evening, my lord? Nay, nay, but let us understand each other. No pavilion, no marriage. And no marriage, no pavilion, my lord. Good seeing. What a witty little devil! I wonder what she does to fascinate me so. But prithee tell me why hast thou always, till now,

refused with such obstinacy. This very morning thou knowest. This morning, my lord. What? the page behind the great chair. Oh, true, I had forgot. But when Basil has spoken to thee in my behalf, is it necessary, my lord, such a knave as Basil should know everything that passes. She is right again, but... Suspicious. Thou wilt go, now, and tell Figaro all. To be sure, my lord, I always tell

him all, except what is necessary to conceal. Ah, the hussy! What a child. What a child. little knave it is. Run. Run to thy mistress. She is waiting and may suspect us. Susan hesitating. So your lordship can't perceive that I only wanted a pretext

to speak to your lordship. The count unable to conceal his transport is going to kiss her. But here's somebody coming and they separate. Count as he turns. She absolutely bewitches me.

I'd sworn to think no more her, but she whines me just as she pleases. The Count goes off and Figaro enters, but the Count hearing Figuero's voice, returns and peeps. Well, my Susan, what does he say? Hush, hush! He is just gone. Thou hast gained thy cause. Run, run, run, run! Exit Susan running, Figaro following. Well, but how? How, my charmer?

Ex-suent. Re-enter Count. thou hast gained thy cause aha and is it so my pair of knaves am i your dupe then a very pretty net but the cuckoo is not caught come proceed we to judgment be we just cool impartial inflexible exit enter don guzman marcelina and doctor I shall be happy, Mr. President, to explain the justice of my cause. To show you on what grounds this lady proceeds. Well, let us examine the matter verbally. There is a promise of marriage.

I comprehend given by you to... No, Mr. President, given to me. I comprehend given to you. And some of money which I... I comprehend, which you have received. No, Mr. President, which I have lent. I comprehend. It is repaid. No, Mr. President, it is not repaid.

I co-opened. apprehend the man would marry you to pay his debts. No, Mr. President, he would neither marry me nor pay his debts. Do you think I don't apprehend you? And are you, Mr. President, to judge this cause? To be sure, what else did I purchase my place for think you? laugh stupidly at the supposed folly of the question. And where is the de-fendent?

Interfiguro. Here, at your service. Yes, that's the knave. Perhaps I interrupt you? Have not I seen you before, young man? Oh, yes, Mr. President. I once served your lady. How long.

since. Nine months before the birth of her last child. And a fine boy it is, though I say it. Yes. He's the flower of the flock and the cause between... A bagatelle, Mr. President. A bagatel. A bagatel. A braggatel. A promis of marriage. A bagatel. A baguatel. A prognus of marriage. A baggatel. A Tell, and dost thou hope to cast the plaintiff? To be sure, Mr. President, you being one of the judges. Guzman with stupid dignity. Yes, I am one of the judges.

Has thou seen double fee, my secretary? Yes, Mr. President. That's a duty not to be. neglected. The young fellow is not so simple, I thought. Inter-crier of the court, guards, count, counsellors, and vassals. Make room there, for my lord, the count. Wherefore in your robes, Don Guzman, it was unnecessary for a mere domestic matter like this. Pardon me, my lord. Those who would tremble at the clerk of the court in his robes would laugh at the judge without them forms forms are sacred things they count on the court seek themselves call silence in the court silence in the court read over the causes double fee

the count de los altos montes di ayes frescas seor di montes fierros and other montes plaintive against alonzo calderon a comic poet the question at present before the court is to know the author of a comedy that has been damned which they mutually disavow an attribute to each other they are both very right in mutually disavowing it and be it decreed that if hereafter they should produce a successful peace its fame shall appertain to the count and its merit to the poet the next diego macho day-laborer plaintiff against gilles perez borcado tax-gatherer and receiver of the gables for having violently dispossessed the said diego macho de laborer of his cow this cause does not come within my jurisdiction but as it is probable the day-laborer will never obtain justice do thou see figaro that another cow be sent him lest his family should be starved the next Marcellina Jane Maria Angelico Mustachio Spinster Plaintiff against

To Figaro Here's no surname Anonymous Anonymous I never heard the name before Against Figuero Anonymous What profession Gentleman

I might have been born a prince If heaven had pleased Against figureo anonymous gentleman defendant. The question before the court relates to a promise of marriage, the parties have retained no counsel contrary to the ancient and established practice of courts. What occasion for counsel?

A race of gentlemen who are always so very learned, they know everything except their briefs, who insolently interrogate modesty and timidity, an endeavor, by confusing, to make honesty forswear itself, and, after having labored for hours, with all legal prolixity, to perplex self-evident propositions, and bewildered the understanding of the judges, sit down as proud as if they had just pronounced a philivic of Demosthenes. Addressing himself to the court.

My lord and gentlemen, the question before the court is, Double V interrupting him. It is not for you to speak. You are the defendant. Who pleads for the plaintiff? I. You, a physician-turned-lawyer? Oh, yes, and equally skillful in both. Read the promise of marriage, doctor. Read the promise of marriage. Doctor reads.

I acknowledge to have received of Marthelina Jane Maria Angelica Mustachio, the sum of two thousand piastres in the castle of Count Alma Viva, which some I promise to repay to the said Marthelina Jane Maria Angelica Mustachio, and to marry her, signed, Figuero. Addressing himself to the court. My lord and gentleman, never did cause more interesting, more intricate, or in which the interest of mankind, their rights, properties, lives, and liberties were more materially involved, ever claim the profound attention of this most learned, most honorable court, and from the time of Alexander the Great, who promised to espouse the beauteous Thelestrus,

Stop, most formidable orator, and ere you proceed, inquire whether the defendant does not contest the validity of your deed. Guzman to Figaro. Do you contest the validity of the deed? My lord and gentlemen, there is in this case either fraud, error, malice, or mischievous intention, for the words of the acknowledgement are, I promise to repay the said Marcellina, Jane Maria, Angelica Mostachio, the said sum of two thousand pialsters, or to marry her, which is very different.

I affirm it is and. I affirm it is or. Well, suppose it. No supposition. I will have it granted. Clerk, read you the promise. Read the promise double fee. Double fee reads. I acknowledge to have received of Marcellina Jane Maria Angelica Mustachio

the sum of two thousand piastres in the castle of Count Alamava, which some i promise to repay the said marcelina jane maria angelica mustachio and or and the word is blotted no matter the sense of the phrase is equally clear this learned court is not now to be informed the word or particle or hath various significations it means otherwise and either it likewise means before for example in the language of the poet, or ere the sun decline the western sky, tis fate's decree the victims all must die. This was the language of prophecy, and spoken of the doctor's own patients. Silence in the court. Silence in the court! Hence then, I clearly deduce granting the word to be or, the defendant doth hereby promise not only to pay the plaintiff, but marry her before he pays her. Again, the word or doth sometimes signify, wherefore, as another great and learned poet hath it,

or how could heavenly justice damn us all, who ne'er consented to our father's fall? That is wherefore? For what reason could heavenly justice do such an unjust thing? Let us then substitute the adverb, wherefore, and the intent and meaning of the promise will be incontestable. For, after reciting an acknowledgment of the debt, it concludes with the remarkable words, Or to marry her, that is, wherefore, for which reason, out of gratitude, For the favor above done me, I will marry her. Oh, most celebrated doctor, most poetic quibbler! Hark with what flawed impotence he speaks,

And as his malice prompts the puppet speaks, Or, at the ear of Eve, familiar toad, Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad in legal puns or quibbles, quirks. or lies, or spite or taunts, or rhymes, or blasphemies. What think you we know not quotations, and poets, andands and oars, and wise and wherefores? What drop or nostrum can such plagues remove, or which must end me, a fool's wrath, or love? Pointing first to the doctor, and then to Marcellina. We have neither forgot our reading, nor our syntax, but can easily translate a dull

knave into a palpable fool. My lord and gentlemen, you hear his sophisms, poetical, and conundrums grammatical. Yes, yes, we hear. Count and the councillors rise and consult together. I'm glad they have put an end to your prating. Their whisperings and wise grimaces forebode me no good. That Susan has corrupted the chief judge, and he is corrupting all the others. It looks devilish like it.

The Count and Councillors resume their seats. Silence in the court. Silence in the court! The judgment of the court is that since the validity of the promise of marriage is not well established, Figuero is permitted to dispose of his person. The day's my own. I thought how it would be. But as the acknowledgement clearly expresses the words,

which some I promised to pay the said Marshalina Jane Marie Angelica Mustachio or to marry her. The said figaro stands condemned to pay the 2,000 piastas to the plaintiff, or marry her in the course of the day. I'm undone. I am happy. And I am revenged. Thank your noble lordship. Most humbly thank your noble lordship. Aha!

I'm glad thou art not to marry my niece. I'll go and tell her the good news. Exit. Clear the court. Exluent guards, counselors, and vassals. Manit Don Guzman, Figuero, Marcellina, and Dr. Bartolo. Tis this furs ball, this fungus of a president that has lost me my cause. I, a ffurz ball and a f fungus?

Figuro, sits down dejected. I will never marry her. Thou must marry her. What, without the consent of my noble parents? Count returning. Where are they? Who are they? He will still complain of injustice. Name them. Allow me time, my lord.

I must first know where to find them, and yet it ought not to be long, for I have been seeking them these five years. What, a foundling? No foundling, but stolen from my parents. Pugh, this is too palpable. Exit Count Had I no other proof of my birth than the precious stones, ring, and jewels found upon me,

these would be sufficient. But I bear the mark— He is going to show his arm. Of a lobster? On your left arm? How do you know that? "'Tis he himself?' "'Yes, it's me myself.'

"'Tis Fernando.' "'Thou wert stolen away by gypsies.' "'By gypsies?' "'Oh, doctor, if thou canst but restore me to my illustrious parents, "'bountains of gold will not sufficiently speak their gratitude.' "'Behold thy mother.' "'Pointing to Marcellina.' "'Nurce, you mean?'

"'Thy own mother.' "'Explain.' "'And there be. behold thy father pointing to the doctor he my father o lord o lord o lord o lord stumps about gooseman with great wisdom it will be no match that's evident hast thou not felt nature pleading within thee at sight of me never this was the secret cause of all my fondness for thee No doubt. And of my aversion. Instinct is very powerful. Come to my arms, my dear, my long-lost child. Figuero and Marcellina embrace. The doctor leans against the benches.

Enter Antonio and Susan. The latter runs to find the count. Susan in great agitation. Oh, where is my lord? Here is the money to pay Marcellina with. the portion which my noble and generous lady has given me. Antonio, pulling Susan and pointing to Figuero, who kisses Marcellina. Here, here, look this way. Susan, at seeing them embrace, becomes furious, and is going away. Figaro runs and brings her back.

Stop, stop, my Susan. I have seen enough. Since you are so fond of her, pray marry her. Thou art mistaken. No. I am not mistaken. Gives him a slap in the face, Figuero rubbing his cheek.

This is love, Bashar. Prithee, come hither. Look at that lady. How dost thou like her? Not at all. Well, said jealousy. She does not mince the matter. Dear Susan, this is my son.

Yes, they wanted me to marry my mother. Your mother. It is not long since. I have known it. True. Yes, my dearest Susan embrace thy mother. Thy mother, who will love thee dearly. And do you consent I shall have my figaro? Frily.

Susan runs and kisses her. Here, my son, here is the promise. Gives him the paper. And here is the portion. Gives him a purse of money. My manly pride would fain make me restrain my tears. But they flew in spite of me. Well, let them.

Let them flow. Joys like these never come twice in one's life. Oh, my mother. Oh, my Susan. They all three embrace weeping. Guesman weeping. What a fool am I? Look, if I don't cry as well as the best of them.

Vigoro to the doctor. My father. Keep off, I disclaim thee. Why, then? If you are his father, you are a Turkish Jew, and no Christian father. A knave that tricked me of my ward, cheated me of my money, and now has been turning my wisdom into ridicule. And are not you, being a wise man, proud to have a son wiser than yourself? No, I would have no one wiser than myself.

Come, come, look you, I am a good Catholic and an old Castilian. Therefore, unless your father and mother become lawful man and wife, I will never consent to give you my niece. No, no, she shan't marry a man who is the child of nobody, neither. Here's an old fool, the child of nobody. Ha, ha, ha. laughs stupidly and then assumes great wisdom Haven't you lived long enough to know

that every child must have a father? Consider good doctor your promise if ever our child was found. Pasha! And here is a son you surely need not be ashamed of. Ah, my dear papa! My generous, worthy father. strokes his cheek. Figuero Neels and Marcellina coaxes him. You don't know how we will all love you.

What care we will take of you? How happy we will make you. Good doctor, dear Papa, generous father. Burst out crying. See if I am not even a greater fool than Mr. President. Guzman staggers back at the doctor's compliment. They mold me like dough. Lead me like a child. marcelina susan and figaro testified their joy by their actions nay nay but i haven't yet said yes but you have thought yes and looked yes

come come we must be quick let us run and find the count otherwise he will invent some new pretext to break off the match exuant doctor marcelina figaro and susan mannott don guzman a greater fool than mr president the people in this house are truly very stupid and ill-bred exit end of act three act four of the follies of a day or the marriage of figaro english by pierre bomarchet translated by thomas holcroft this is a librovoc's recording all recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 4. Seen a large saloon. Figuero and Susan both joyous. She has converted her doctor at last. They are to be married, and so these late, implacable enemies are now become our dearest friends. What unexpected happiness! chance my susan all the effective chance yesterday without a relation in the world i could claim to-day behold me restored to my parents true it is they are neither so rich nor so right honourable

so be laced nor be titled as my imagination had painted them but that's all one they are mine i may truly be called both a chance child and a child of chance By chance I was begot By chance brought into the world By chance I was stole By chance I am found By chance I have lived And by chance I shall die Chance is nature's sovereign

And must be mine Yes and by chance Thou mayst come to be hanged Or thou to be an empress Neither of them are impossible He, the conqueror Whose ambition ravages the earth and whose pride eats up nations,

is not less the sport of chance than the blind beggar who is conducted by his dog. Pry they leave thy philosophy end. And think of that other blind beggar, love. Most willingly, my angel. Kisses her. Pooh, poo, that's not what I meant. Rather say it was not half thy meaning,

or thy meaning ill-expressed. Kisses her. her again. Ah, Figaro, were this fondness these days but durable? Durable? Iron and adamant? No. May millions of imaginary gallant wrick my heart and decorate my... No rotamontade, Figaro. Tell me the simple truth. By the truest of all truths, I swear. Trueest of truths. Are there various kinds of truths, then? No doubt. There are truths that may be spoken, such as the piccadillos of a poor rascal,

truths that may not be spoken, such as the robberies of a rich rascal. There are your truths comprehensible, such as that two and two make four, and your truths incomprehensible, such as that two and two make five. Then there are your tradesman's truths, which he retails to his customers, your lover's truths, which he pours wholesale into his mistress's ear, your courtier's truths, on which he feeds his dependence in parasites, your court of law, or kiss-the-book truths, which are the daily support of a vast number of very honest people.

There are also your physical and metaphysical truths, your old truths and your new truths, your heterodox and orthodox truths, your Mohammedan truths, your Jewish truths, and your other kinds of truths concerning which there never was nor ever will be any doubt. Not to mention your truths in fashion, such as that idleness, ignorance, dissipation, gaming, and seduction are the requisites of a gentleman, and your truths out of fashion, such as that gentleness, obedience, economy, and connubial love are the requisites of a gentlewoman.

I find your account of the matter, Figaro, that poor truth, like a lottery ticket, is so divided and subdivided, so halved, quartered, cut, carved, split, and spliced, it is nowhere entire to be found. Nowhere. And moreover, that what is truth today may be a lie tomorrow. Maybe. Must be. Consequently, that in less than 24 hours, my very tender, submissive, ardent lover, may be metamorphosed into an arbitrarian. cold, haughty, husband.

Impossible. Impossible, my Susan. As it is for thee, my gentle, kind, and beauteous bride to be transformed into an ill-tempered extravagant's latterly wife. I understand thee. Well, well, we will endeavor to convert

the iron bands of matrimony into a flowery wreath which love shall teach us to bear lightly and joyously through life. I, and thus live a happy exception to the established usage of a mad world. But prithee, who is to go disguised and meet the count? Who? Nobody. Let him wait and fret and bite his nails. I never meant thou shouldst go. I assure thee I never had any inclination.

Is that the real truth, Susan? What? Thinkest thou I am as learned as thou art? And that I keep several sorts of truths? Dost thou love me? Too much, I doubt. Ah, that's but little. How? In love's creed, too much is not even enough.

I understand nothing of this over-refinement, but I feel I shall love my husband most heartily. Keep thy word, and put our modern wives to the blush. Afford them a subject to laugh and point at thou meanest. Enter the countess. Wherever you meet one of them, be certain you shall find a pair. They salute the Countess. The bridesmen and maids wait for you, Figaro.

I will take my excuse in my hand. Going to lead out Susan. Few offenders can plead so charming a one. No, no. Stop, Susan. I want you. She shall come presently. Exit Figaro. Well, Susan, the time approaches. We must prepare for the rendezvous.

I must not go, madam. Figaro is unwilling. Figaro! Figaro is not so scrupulous when a marriage portion is in question. That's a poor pretense. You are sorry you have told the truth and discovered the intentions of the Count. Go-go.

I am not to be so deceived. Going. Susan catching hold of her and kneeling. "'Ah, madam, let me conjure you to hear me, to pardon me. How can you think me capable of deceiving so good, so liberal a lady, whose bounties I have so often felt? Oh, no, it is because I have promised, Figuero.' Countess mildly and smiling. "'Rise. Has thou forgot, silly girl, that it is I who am to go, and not thee?' Guses her forehead. But I was too hasty. My dear, my generous mistress.

And what is the place of the rendezvous? The pavilion in the garden. There are two. But they are opposite. True. At what hour? I don't know. That must be fixed.

Sit down. Take the pen and write. Susan sits down and Countess dictates. A new song to the tune of The Twilight Past the Bell had told. Susan writes. New song, tune of Bell had told. What next, madam?

Dost think he will not understand thee. Susan looking archly at the countess. Very true. Folding up the letter. But here is neither wax nor wafer. Fasten it with a pin, and write on the direction, return the seal. Smiling. The seal.

Gets up. This is not quite so serious as the commission just now was. Ah, Susan. I have never a pin. Take this. Gives her one which fastened the page's riband to her breast. It falls. Susan picking up the riband.

This is the page's ribbon. madam. Wouldst thou have me let him wear it? It will do for Agnes. I will give it her the first bouquet she presents me. Just as the Countess has said this, Agnes and a troop of young maidens, among them the page, in girls' clothes, enter with nosegays for the Countess, who instantly puts the riband in her pocket, with an evident wish by her looks and action to preserve it. Countess looking at the page What pretty maiden is this? A cousin of mine, madam, that we have invited to the wedding.

Well, then, as we can wear but one nosegay, let us do honour to the stranger. Takes the nosegay from the page and kisses his forehead, aside to Susan. Don't you think, Susan? She resembles amazingly. Stop short and looks at Susan. Amazingly indeed, madam.

Page aside. What a precious kiss. I feel it here. Put in his hand on his heart. Enter the Count and Antonio with a hat in his hand. Antonio as he enters. Yes, yes, my lord, I'm certain it was him. The rakish little rascal is disguised among the girls. I found his new hat and cockade here, hid in a basket.

The Countess and Susan surprised, look at the page, and then at each other. The girls surround an endeavor to hide Hannibal. Antonio seeks among them. Aye, aye, here he is, here he is. Antonio takes off his cap and puts on his hat. There, my lord, there's a pretty, modest virgin for you. Well, my lady. Well, my lord, I am as much surprised as you can be,

and I assure you not less vexed. At present, however, it is time to tell you the whole truth. This young gentleman pointing to the page was hid in my dressing-room. We attempted a joke, which these girls have put in practice. But wherefore hide him from me? Because, my lord, when your passions are predominant, you are incapable of either listening to or believing the truth. Count aside. Must I forever be disturbed, haunted, and bewitched thus by this beardless boy? Turning with great wrath towards the page. What is the reason, sir? You have not obeyed my commands.

Page draws back frightened and takes off his hat. My lord, I stayed to teach Agnes the love scene. She is to play in the comedy this evening. Agnes steps forward. my lord. When you come into my room, you know, and want to kiss me. I. The Countess remarks his embarrassment. Susan laughs silently and makes signs to the Countess. Yes, my lord. You say to me, my pretty Agnes, if you will but love me, I will give you anything you wish to have. Now, my lord, if you will give me Hannibal for a husband,

I will love you with all my heart. You hear, my lord, has not the simplicity of this child's confession, as artless as the one I have this moment made, sufficiently justified my conduct, and do not circumstances prove how injurious your suspicions have been, and how well-founded mine. Count bows to the countess. You see, my lord, what a giddy young thing it is. And very loving, too.

Her mother, as everybody knows, was. just such another. Enter Figuero. Come, my pretty maidens, come. Turns to the Count. While you keep the lasses here, my lord, we can neither begin our procession nor our dances.

Count Gweverly putting on his hat. Why, surely, sir, you don't intend to dance. Why not, my lord? What? With a hurt in your ankle? Oh, is that all? It pains me a little to be sure, but that's a trifle. Come, girls.

Count, turning him back. You were very lucky to light upon such soft ground. Exceedingly, my lord. Come, lasses. Antonio turning him back on the other side. And then you double yourself up when you take a leap, yet, like a cat, you fall on your feet. What then?

Come, girl. But how unhappy the poor youth will be about his commission. What is the meaning of all this, my lord? Antonio bringing the page forward. Do you know this bashful young lady? The devil, Hannibal, aside. Well, and what riddle has he to propound? No riddle, sir, but a simple matter of fact.

He affirms it was he who jumped out of the window. Does he? Well, if he says so, I suppose it is so. How? What, two at a time? Two, twenty, why not, my lord, one sheep begins, and the rest naturally follow. Flourish of music without. Come, come, come, my merry maidens, don't you hear the music? Quick, quick, run, run!

Exxient Susan and Figuero with the girls. Count to the page. Harky, little rascal, begone, instantly. Put off your pedd. and don't stir out of your room the rest of the day. Take care, sir, I don't meet you again. Page putting on his hat. No matter, I bear away that upon my forehead,

which would compensate for any age of imprisonment. Exit joyously. Count looks at the Countess, who recollects the kiss she had just given the page. His forehead? What is it he bears away so triumphantly upon his forehead? Countess, sir, embarrassed.

Uh, his officer's hat, I suppose. Every new bobble pleases a child. Going. The procession is coming. Will not your ladyship stay and be a witness of your favourite's happiness? As your lordship pleases. Enter the procession of the two weddings. A march is played.

Dr. Bartolo and Marcellina are preceded by crier of the court. guards double-feet councillors don gooseman after them come Antonio Figuero and Susan followed by the bridesmen and maids and a troop of dancers they all salute the count and countess as they pass and after making the tour of the stage Antonio presents his niece to the count Susan kneels one of the bridesmaids gives the count the nuptial cap and Susan while the count is placing it on her her head, plucks him by the cloak, and shows him the note she has just before written. He pretends to keep adjusting the cap, and slyly reaches to take the note, which he instantly claps in his bosom, having previously unbuttoned himself for that purpose. While this is transacting, a constant dance is performed.

As soon as Susan rises, she purposely places herself before the countess to encourage the count to read the note, who accordingly steps forward, is going to open it, and pricks his finger with the pen, which he plucks out and throws angrily on the floor. These women and their cursed pins. Figuero aside to his mother, laughing. The Count has received a billy-due from some pretty girl, sealed with a pin. This is a new fashion, which he does not seem to admire. The count reads the note, is exceedingly pleased, folds it up again, and reads on the outside,

Return the seal. He pretends to walk carelessly about the stage, but is all the while looking earnestly for the pin he had thrown away, which he at last finds, picks up and sticks upon his sleeve. Figuero to his mother. Everything is precious that appertains to a beloved object. He picks up the very pin, you see. All this while Susan and the Countess remark what is passing with laughter and private looks and gestures. Countess rising. Come with me, Susan. We shall soon be back, my lord. Aside to Susan. Let us make haste and exchange dresses. Exxuent Countess and Susan. Guards! Guards! This way! Guards! Places the guards at the door, runs up to the

count. My lord, here's Mr. Basil coming, my lord, with the whole village at his heels, because he has been singing all the way he went. Orpheus and the brutes, but I'll make him change his tune. Enter Basil singing, followed by bounce. So, Mr. Basil, what is your will and pleasure? After having fulfilled your lordship's commands by amusing this honest gentleman, me, my lord, I assure your lordship, he has not amused me in the least. I now return to enforce my claims on Marshalina. Look you, sir, should you venture but to cast one look, or approach one step nearer that lady? Let him speak, Figaro, let him speak.

Oh, f f f f f f f f f f f f fred! I disclaim such friendship. And I. Error of judgments, Mr. President. He? A street-corner ballad-bruller? As good, at least, as a barber surgeon. Who hashes up a dinner out of horsehair and cat-gut? Who has hungrily devoured razors and homes, and fed half his life upon froth? Imitates beating up a leather.

The high priest of pimps. The vile drug. of intrigue. Execrated by those he serves. Gulled by his own cunning. So great a fool, Navery itself cannot make him thrive. So stupid,

he never yet could invent a probable lie. Hold, hold, hold. Up at end, Dick. Purt? Preposterous. Pragmatical. Braying. Lop-eared.

Ass. Hound. now, is this all the respect you show? You hear, my lord, how he insults me. When, it is well known, there is not in all Andalusia a more eminent... Empty. Abject. Abject.

Musician. Miscreant. Is this to be born? Whose countenance, prophecies of pillories, scaffolds, and the stretching of hemp, and whose whole appearance is a continual momento of public color. Plamity, Plague, Pestilence and Famine. A Mizzacordia, sackcloth and ashes, knave. A scapegoat that looks like a Jew in the yellow jaundice. Dr. Bartolo and Don Guzman prevent Basil from falling upon Figuero.

Do you think this proper, Mr. Figuero? Why not, my lord? Let him listen to truth, since he is too poor to pay parasites and liars. Silence, sir. Let us hear Mr. Basil, what you have to say. Basil composing himself. I demand the hand of Marcholina, my lord, who promised to marry me. On what condition was this promise made? That I should adopt your lost son, if ever you should be happy enough to find him. Well, he is found.

Where is he? Here he stands. Pointing to Figaro. There he is. stands. He? Oh, my curse, stars! Do you renounce your pretensions to his dear mother?

Renounce? As I would renounce the devil and all his works. What? Renounce your best friend? But that's like your rogue's tricks. I will not live under the same roof with him. I would rather even quit the service of my lord. Don't be uneasy. I shan't trouble you long.

Restored to my parents and married to my Susan, I shall retire and live in peace. Count aside. And I shall retire to meet my mistress. So everybody is satisfied. Let the marriage contracts be prepared, and I will sign them. Thanks, gracious Lord. and I will go and prepare the fireworks in the garden near the pavilion. Count returning.

Who? Praise, sir, gave you those orders. The Countess is too much indisposed to come out. Let them, therefore, be played off in front of the castle, facing her windows. Aside. The rascal was going to set fire to my place of rendezvous. Exuant. Manette, Figuero, and Marcellina. How attentive he is to his life.

it is necessary my dear figaro i should undeceive thee respecting my former false accusations of susan basil has always told me she obstinately refused to listen to the count's overtures and i am both sorry and ashamed to have excited thy jealousy Oh, be under no apprehensions, my dear mother. Jealousy is the foolish child of pride, the disease of a madman. My philosophy is invulnerable to its poisoned arrows. Vigero turns and says Agnes, just behind him, coming down the stage. So, what have you been listening, my little inquisitive cousin? Oh, no, they tell me that is not polite. Then what's your errand? He is not here.

Who? Hannibal. Oh, I know. know that very well. I know where he is. I want my cousin Susan. I. And what do you want with her? Not much, only to give her a pin. Figuero starts. A pin? Striding about in great anger. A pin? And how dare you, you little hussy, undertake such messages? What? Have you learnt your trade already? Marcellina makes a sign to Figuero, who recollects himself, and a endeavors to disguise his feelings.

Come, come, come, my pretty cousin. Don't be frightened. I was but in joke. I, I, I know all about it. It's a pin that my lord has sent by you to Susan. Since you know so well, why need you ask me then? Figaro coaxing. Only to hear what my lord said when he sent thee on this errand. Here, said he, here, my pretty little Agnes, take this. pin to thy cousin Susan, and tell her it is the seal of the new song about the twilight and the pavilion. And the pavilion, and take great care, said he, that nobody sees thee. Well, well, I was but joking. Go and execute thy message faithfully, exactly as my lord bade thee. Law, my cousin takes me for a ninnie, I believe. Exit skipping. So, my mother.

my son. Here's a sweet daughter, a delightful bride, and will be a most virtuous wife. Walking up and down with great agitation. A false, deceitful. I'm happy, however, I have found her out. I will detect, expose, and abandon her. Nay, but gently, my son, gently.

Recollect that jealousy is the disease of a madman, and that your philosophy is invulnerable. Fye, fie! all this passion about a pin. A pin that has wounded me to the heart. Didn't we see the Count pick it up? We did so, but how can we tell whether she means to deceive thee or him? Art thou sure she will go to the rendezvous,

and wilt thou condemn her without hearing her? I'm sorry, I am a fool. And yet, if she should be false... Nay, but my dear Figaro... Well, well, I will be calm. Yes, my amorous count. You will at least meet with somebody you don't expect. If you do not make haste, we shall be at the pavilion as soon as your lordship. Exuant. End of Act 4.

Act 5 of the Follies of the Day, or the Marriage of Figuero, English, by Pierre Beaumarchet, translated by Thomas Holcroft. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 5 Seeing the Garden With walks of cut trees in the background

and two pavilions, one on each side of the stage. Enter Agnes, a l'enthorn in one hand, and two cakes and an orange in the other. The pavilion to the left? Hey, that's it. But if he should not come soon, he has not half learnt me my part yet. Poor thing, he hasn't eat anything all day,

and the cross good-for-nothing cook would not give me a morsel for him. So I was obliged to ask the butler for these cakes and this orange. It cost me a good kiss on the cheek, but I know who you'll repay. Oh dear, here's someone coming. Into Figuero, disguised in the Red Wolf Clair, Dr. Bartolo, Don Guzman, Basil, Antonio.

Figaro imagines at first Agnes to be Susan, and as it is too dark to see, endeavors to follow the sound of her voice, having entered while she was speaking. Agnes enters the pavilion on the left. I was mistaken. Tis Agnes. They all groped down the stage till they get round Figaro. What a clock is it? Almost near the moon's rising.

What a gloomy night! We look like so many conspirators. You understand, gentlemen, why you are come hither. It is to be witnesses of the conduct of the virtuous bride I am soon to espouse, and the Honorable Lord who has graciously bestowed her upon me. Basil aside. This will be a precious revenge. Remember, Figaro, a wise man has never any kind of.

contest with the Great. It is the Battle of Don Quixote with the windmills. They whirl and dash you to a distance without once altering or retarding their course. Rather remember, they have not courage to oppress any, but cowards. He's mad. Yes, he is mad. But what about? A certain rendezvous. Come this way, and I'll tell you the whole. Hide yourselves hereabouts. and come running the moment you hear me call. He is turning fool. Yes, he's turning fool. Stay and take care of him.

Excellent. Manette, Figuero and Doctor. Oh, woman, woman, woman, In constant, weak, deceitful woman. But each animal is obliged to follow the instinct of its nature, and it is thine to betray. What? After squaring this vein,

very morning to remain forever faithful, and on the identical day, the bridal day. Patience? I even saw her laugh with the light while he read her billet. They think themselves secure, but perhaps they yet may be deceived. No, my very worthy lord and master, you have not got her yet. What? Because you are a great man, you fancy yourself a great genius? Which way?

How came you? to be the rich and mighty Count Amaviva. Why, truly, you gave yourself the trouble to be born. All the obscurity in which I have been cast demanded more abilities to gain a mere substance than are requisite to govern empires. And what, most noble count, are your claims to distinctions to pompous titles and immense wealth, of which you are so proud, and which, by accident, you possess? For which of your virtues? Your wisdom? Your generosity? Your justice? The wisdom you have acquired consists in vile arts to gratify vile passions.

Your generosity is lavished on your hireling instruments, but whose necessities make them far less contemptible than yourself. And your justice is the inveterate persecution of those who will have the will and the wit to resist your depredations. But this has ever been the practice of the little great, Those they cannot degrade, they endeavor to crush. Be advised, Figaro, be calm. There has ever been a respect paid...

To vice, where it is not due. Shame light on them that pay it. Consider, he is... A lord. And I am a man. Yes, I am a man, but the nocturnal spells of that enchantress woman soon shall make me a monster.

Why, what an assail. ass am I. Acting here the idiot part of a... Strikes his forehead. A husband, although I am but half-finished. Agnes peers out of the pavilion and approaches a little way to listen. Is that Hannibal? I hear somebody. Agnes hears the voice of the doctor and runs in again.

I will retire, but if you are wise, you will wait the event patiently. Your suspicions may be unjust. Should they prove real, then shake her from you as her ingratitude deserves. Exit. Oh, how easy it is for the prayer-mumbling priest to bid the wretch on the rack suffer patiently. Figaro listens. I hear nothing. All is silent and dark as their designs. Figaro pulls off as Rochlear and throws it on a garden bench.

Why, what a destiny is. mine. Am I forever doomed to be the football of fortune? Son of I know not who, stolen I knew not how, and brought up to I knew not what, lying and thieving accepted, I had the sense, though young, to despise a life so base, and fled such infernal tutors. My genius, though cramped, could not be totally subdued, and I spent what little time and money I could spare in books and study. Alas, it was but time and money thrown away. Desolate in the world, unfriended, unprotected, my poor stock of knowledge not being whipped into me by the masculine hic-hick-hawk hand of a schoolmaster, I could not get bread, much less

for ferment. Disheartened by the failure of all my projects, I yet had the audacity to attempt a comedy, but as I had the still greater audacity to attack the favorite vice of the favorite mistress, of the favorite footman of the favorite minister, I could not get it licensed. It happened about that time, that the fashionable question of the day was an inquiry into the real and imaginary wealth of nations, and, as it is not necessary to possess the thing you write about, I, with lank cheeks, penileless purse, and all the simplicity of a boy, or a philosopher, freely described the true causes of national poverty, when suddenly I was awakened in my bed at midnight, and entrusted to the tender care of his Catholic Majesty's Mermedons, whose magic power caused the heavy gates of an old castle to fly open at my approach,

where I was graciously received, lodged, and ornamented, according to the fashion of the place, and provided with straw and bread and water gratis. My ardor for liberty sufficiently cooled, I was once more turned adrift into the wide world, with lead to provide straw and bread and water for myself. On this my second birth, I found all Madrid in raptures, concerning a most generous royal edict, lately published, in favour of the liberty of the press,

and I soon learnt that, provided I neither spoke of the wealth of nations in my writings, nor of the government, nor of the government, nor of nor of any corporate companies, nor offended the favorite mistress of the minister's favorite footman, nor said any one thing which could be twisted into a reference, or hint, derogatory to any one individual, who had more powerful friends than I had, I was at liberty to write, freely, all, and whatever I pleased, under the inspection of some two or three censors. Soon after this, a place happened to be vacant, which required a person well acquainted with

calculation. I offered my services. My abilities were not questioned. I waited in anxious expectation of the event, and in three days learned it had been bestowed, two days before, upon a dancing master. Persecuted by creditors, tired of starving and unable, through the feebleness of youth to sustain so unequal a struggle, I had the weakness, at last, to sink before temptation and set up a pharaoh bank. now, for once, behold, the scene changed. See me equally familiar with lords as with their lackeys. Every door was open to me, every hand held out. But notwithstanding my desire to be something in this world, my detestation of the brazen effrontery, profound ignorance, and insupportable insolence of these

fashionable friends of nobility, was so innate that I found I could better endure all the miseries of poverty than the disgrace and disgust of such society. Quitting, therefore, with contempt this new trade, and leaving false shame behind me, as a burthen too heavy for a foot-passenger, I once more took up my strap and hone, and travelled for employment from town to town. At Seville I found a lord mad to marry his mistress. My wit procured him what he could not, a wife, and in return he gratefully endeavours to seduce mine. Strange concentation of circumstance. My parents all at once claim me. Tis he, tis she, tis me, tis, I don't know who. I came into the world without my knowledge, and I shall go out on it without my will.

And thus do I continue to torment myself about this being of mine, without understanding what this being is, what it was, what it shall be, whence it came where it is, and whither it shall go. I only know it to be a compound of contradictions. A little, wise, foolish animal, ardent in the pursuit of pleasure, capricious through vanity, laborious from necessity, but indolent by choice. After having exhausted every art for enjoyment and every profession for a livelihood, I found myself intoxicated by a heavenly illusion that has vanished at my approached. Vanished. And is it vanished? Oh, Susan, Susan. Figuero sinks melancholy upon the garden seat. But being suddenly roused by a noise,

wraps himself up in his roclair. Enter softly in each other's dress, the Countess and Susan, followed by Marcellina. So Figaro is to be here. He is here. Thus one has come to lay the spring, and the other to seize the game. I will go and hide myself in this pavilion where I shall hear all. Exit into the pavilion on the left. We may begin. If my lady does not want me, I will walk and enjoy the fresh air. Oh, the cockatrice.

It may give thee cold. Oh, no, my lady. Oh, no, she'll not take cold tonight. Susan retires a little towards the pavilion on the left. Hannibal is heard singing, and as he enters, perceives the Countess in Susan's dress. Is that Agnes yonder? He approaches. By her long lapids and white feathers, it must be Susan.

Comes up and takes hold of the Countess's hand. Ah, my dear Susan. Let me go. In a feigned voice. Come, come, come, don't be so coy. I know it is not Fagara you are waiting for. It is my lord the Count. What, did not I hear this morning, when I was behind the great chair?

Susan aside. The babbling little villain. Enter the Count behind, and hears the page. Is that not somebody with Susan? Advances close up to them, and draws back in a fury. Tis that infernal page again. Susan keeps out of the way and silently laughing. "'Tis in vain to say no, since thou art going to be the representative of the Countess,

I am determined to give the one kiss for thyself and a hundred for thy beauteous lady.' "'Susan aside.' "'As impudent as a page,' says the proverb. "'The Countess draws back to avoid being kissed by the page, "'and the Count advances and presents himself in her place. "'The page feels the rough beard of the Count, and suddenly retreats, crying in an undervoice. Ard the devil! The Count again!

Exit Page into the Bavilion on the left. While this passes, Figaro likewise advances to drive the page from Susan. Meanwhile, the Count on the pages, supposed next approach, prepares to give him a proper reception. Count, thinking he speaks to the page. Since you are so fond of kissing, Take that. Gives Figaro a severe box on the air.

I have paid for listening. Susan cannot contain herself, but bursts out a laughing. Count hears her laugh. Why this is inconceivable! Do such salutations make the impudent rascal laugh? It would be strange if he should cry this time. Count and Countess approach. But let us not lose the precious moment.

my charming Susan. Let these kisses speak my ardour. Kisses the Countess several times with rapture. Figuero aside and beating his forehead. Why dost thou tremble? Countess continuing her feigned voice. Because I am afraid. Thou seemst to have got a cold.

Takes the Countess's hand between his own and amorously strokes and kisses her fingers. What a sweet, delicate angel's hand! How smooth and soft! How long and small the fingers! What pleasure and the touch! Ah! How different is this from the Countess's hand!

Countess's sign! And yet you loved her once! Yes, yes, I did so, but three years of better acquaintance has made the marriage state so respectable, and then wives are so loving, when they do love, that is, that one is surprised when, in search of pleasure to find satiety. Pleasure? Love. Oh, no. Love is but the romance of the heart.

Pleasure is its history. As for thee, my dearest Susan, add but one grain more of caprice to thy composition, and thou wilt make one of the most enticing, teasing, agreeable mistresses. Tis my duty to oblige my lord. Her duty? Yes, women's duties are unlimited. They owe all. Men, nothing.

Nothing. It is not our faults. Tis the law of nature. And then wives think to ensure our fidelity by being always wives, whereas they should sometimes become— What? Our mistresses. I hope that.

would not forget this lesson. Oh, no, indeed, not I. Nor I. Nor I. Count astonished. Are there echoes here? Oh, yes. And now, my sweet Susan, receive the portion I promised thee.

Gives a purse and puts a ring upon her finger. And continue likewise to wear this ring for my sake. Susan accepts your favours. Was her ever so faithful? a hossie. These riches are all for us. Still keeps chuckling very heartily at what is going forwards. I perceive torches.

They are preparatory to thy nuptials. The Countess pretends to be afraid. Come, come, let us retire for a moment into the pavilion. What? In the dark? Why not? There are no spirits. Yes, but there are, and evil ones, too.

Countess follows the Count. She is going. Ha ha, ha, ha, hum. Count raising his voice magisterially. Who goes there? A man. Count aside to the countess. It's Figaro.

The countess enters the pavilion on the right hand, and the count retires. Figaro, desperate. They are gone in. Walks about. Let her go. Let her go. Thou shalt pay. presently for these fine suspicions.

Susan advances and mimics the voice of the Countess. Who is that? Tis the Countess. What lucky chance conducted you hither, madam? You know not what scenes are this moment transacting. Oh, yes, but I do, Figaro. What? That the Count of my very virtuous bride are this moment in yonder pavilion, madam?

Very well, my gentleman. I know more than thou, dost. and will you not be revenged oh yes we always have our revenge in our own power what does she mean perhaps what i suspect why that would be a glorious retaliation to susan there is no means but one madam of revenging such wrongs that now presents itself what does the good-for-nothing fellow mean does it figaroe part of revengeing such wrongs that now presents itself what does the good-for-nothing fellow mean does it figaro Pardon my presumption, madam. On any other occasion, the respect I bear your ladyship would keep me silent. But on the present I dare encounter all. Falls on his knees.

Oh, excuse, forgive me, madam. But let not the precious moment slip. Grant me your hand. Susan, unable any longer to contain herself, gives him a slap on the face. Take it! I have it, I think. The devil. This is the day of stripes. Susan gives it thee.

As soon as Figaro hears it is Susan. His satisfaction is so extreme, he laughs very heartily, and keeps laughing all the while she keeps beating him. And that, and that, and that, and that for thy insolence, and that for thy jealousy, and that for thy infidelity. Susan, out of breath, Figuero's still laughing. Oh, happy Figuero. Take thy revenge. My dear, kind, good angel. Never did man or martyr suffer with such ecstasy. Don't tell me of your ecstasy. How durst you, you good-for-nothing, base, false-hearted man, make love to me, supposing me the Countess.

I must bring myself off. Dost think I could mistake the music of my Susan's voice? What? You pretend you knew me then? Pretend? Canst thou doubt it? And this was a trick upon me? But I'll be revenged. Talk not of revenge, my love. But tell me what blessed angel sent thee hither, and how thou camest by this disguise, which so fully proved thy innocence. I could find in my heart not to tell thee, but no,

to thy confusion, it is my ladies. And, that coming to catch one fox, we haven't trapped two. But who has taken the other? His wife. His wife? Go and hang thyself, Figaro. Go and hang thyself for wanting the wit to divine this plot. And has all this intriguing been about his wife? Yes, about his wife. Figaro a little suspicious. But But who did the page kiss? The Count. The Count? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

That is excellent. Resuming his gravity. But who did the Count kiss? The Countess. Aye, but who did he kiss this morning behind the great chair? Nobody. Art thou quite sure? Susan holding out her hand.

Dost thou want another proof? Ah, thine about proofs of love. That of the Count, indeed, was not so gentle. Enter Count behind. Ts, Susan, Susan. Figaro aside to Susan. A lucky thought strikes me. Pray thee second to me, Susan.

Speaks in a feigned voice, falls on his knees, and kisses Susan's hand. "'Oh, madam, let us not longer converse of love, but enjoy its treasures.' "'What's here? A man on his knees to the Countess.' "'Phil's for his sword. They keep silently laughing. "'And I, unarmed.' "'Figuero acting the petty matter.' "'Upon my honour, madam, I could not have supposed humidity should make you hesitate a moment.'

"'So this is our dressing-room, gentlemen, at last. I shall know all at least now. Figaro kisses her hand again. Oh, rage! Oh, hell! How delightfully he swears! Figaro and Susan still inwardly laughing. Quickly then, madam, let us repair the wrong which love this morning suffered

at the impertent and intrusion of your lord. This is not to be born. Darts between them, seizes Figaro by the collar, while Susan escapes into the pavilion on the left. Vicaro pretends amazement. My lord. How, rascal! And is it you? Hello? Hello? Who here's? Enter blundering in the dark and in a great hurry, the courier who had been to Seville after the page.

Here, here, here am I, my lord, just arrived from Seville. But he is not there. I might as well have sought for this page in my pocket. Here is the packet again. Stand out of the way, rascal. Hello. Where are my people? Lights.

Lights. What's my lord afraid of? Is there not Mr. Figaro and I? Interflambeau, Don Guzman, Dr. Bartolo, Antonio, Basil, and servants. Count to the servants. Guard that door, and some of you see this fellow. You command, with absolute authority, over all present, my lord, except yourself. The villain's impenetrable, cool, imprudence is intolerable. We are not soldiers, that we should

kill one another without malice. For my part, I like to know why I am angry. Be pleased, sir, to declare before this company who the—the woman is that just now ran into that pavilion. Into that. Going to cross to the pavilion on the right. Count stopping him. No, prevaricating fiend. Into that. Pointing to the other. Ah, that alters the case. Answer, or...

The lady that escaped into that pavilion? Aye, demon, the lady. The lady that escaped into that pavilion is a young lady to whom my lord once paid his addresses. but who, happening to love me more than my betters, has this day yielded me the preference? The preference. The preference. He does not lie at least.

Yes, gentlemen, what he confesses, I pledge my honour, I have just heard from the very mouth of his accomplice. His accomplice. Come forth, madam. Enteres the pavilion. Which of these two gentlemen has made a gentleman of the other? Perhaps neither.

Count in the pavilion. Come forth, I say. Show yourself. Enter dragging out the page. Still speaking and not looking at him till he gets on a line with the rest of the company. Happily, madam, there is no pledge of a union

now so justly detested. The page! The page! Again! and again and everlastingly this damned diabolical page. Page flies to the other side of the stage. You shall find, however, he was not alone. I know, my lot would have been hard indeed then.

Enter, Antonio, and drag the guilty thing before her judge. Antonio in the pavilion. Come, madam, you must come out. I must not let you go since my lord knows you are here. Enter with his daughter Agnes. Agnes? Agnes. Odzooks, my lord.

It's a pleasant trick enough to send me in, before all these good folks for my daughter. I'll find her, I warrant. Going. Doctor stopping the count. Pardon me, my lord, but you are too angry at present. Let me go. Exit Doctor to the pavilion.

This cause is very... Perplexed. Doctor, inting with Marcellina. Fear nothing, madam, fear nothing. Marcellina! My mother, too. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Where, then, is this daughter of infamy?

Thus evades my just fury. Enter Susan with her fan before her face. Here she comes, at last, bearing her own shame and my dishonor. Susan kneels to him, still. hiding her face. Pardon, pardon, gracious Lord. Lord. No, no, no.

They all fall on their knees. No, no. Where the world to kneel, I would be death. Enter the Countess from the Pavilion on the right, and kneels to the Count, whose back is turned to her. At least I will make one of the number. Susan drops her fan, the Count hears the voice of the Countess, looks round, and suddenly concedes the whole trick they had been playing

him. All the company burst into a laugh, the Count's shame, confusion, etc. Tis the Countess. Count with great humility. And is it you, my lady? Countess inclines her body in token of affirmation. Count, returning her bow with great confusion. fusion. Ah, yes, yes, a generous pardon, though unmerited. Were you in my place, you would exclaim, no, no, no. But I grant it without a single stipulation. And I.

And I. There are echoes here. Count, surprised. I perceive, I perceive, I have been rightly served. Here, Susan. Here is the purse and ring, which my lord gave thee. He will remember thy sweet, delicate fingers so long and so small. Thank your lordship.

Here, Figaro. Gives him the purse. It was devilish hard to get at. Count to Susan. And the letter you wrote? Was dictated by my lady. Count smiling good-natured. Well, well, I am an answer in her debt.

Thus every man shall have his own. And shall we throw the stocking? There is the garter. Throws down the riband Hannibal had stolen in the morning. Bounce is going to stoop for it, and the page pushes him back. This is my right, and if anyone dare dispute it with me. Indeed, Mr. Officer, so bold a champion already. Pray, how did your valour like the box on the ear I gave you just now?

Paid with his hand to his sword. Me? My colonel? Which I kindly received. Thou? Aye. And thus do the great distribute justice. Ha ha! Ha! Well, Mr. President. Don Guzman instantly calls up all his wisdom on finding himself addressed. What do you think of all these things?

"'Th-ink, my lord?' "'C considers.' "'I think that I don't know what to think. "'I think a few such days as this would form an excellent ambassador. "'But lately I was a poor, deserted, solitary being in this wide world, "'and now I have gold, relations, and a handsome wife.' and friends will flock in abundance do you think so oh i know so well let them they shall be welcome to all i have my wife and my wealth accepted our errors passed and all our follies done oh that twere possible you might be one to pardon faults and misderminer smother with the same ease we pardon one another so should we rest to-night devourable to-reeparder's smother with the same ease we pardon one another so should we rest to-night devour

void of sorrow, and hope to meet you joyously tomorrow. End of Act 5. End of the Follies of a Day, or the Marriage of Figuero, English, by Pierre Beaumarche.