Count. Why, villain, you wouldn't poisonFig. O fie, we doctors never call it poisoning. No, not poison, but-in short, they are always wanting my assistance, and now I'll give them a little something that will do you good. But what did Rosina, write on the song which I saw her throw out of the window? Count. That shall be attended to immediately. Fiorello ! [Calls. [Comes down. Fio. Here, sir. Count. Figaro, you must be acquainted with my faithful Fiorello, he is to be depended on. [Takes the song from FIORELLO.] Hear what she says. [Reads.] "I have observed your attendance at my window. I remember you at Madrid. Sing some words to this air, under my balcony, which may let me know the name, situation, and intention of him who seems interested for the unfortunate Rosina." Charming Rosina! but what the devil shall I do? I can't sing a note. I'm very pathetic in love songs. [Sings extravagantly. Count. Hold your fool's tongue. Here, Fiorello, while I prepare my disguise, take the ballad, and do the best for me. In an hour, Figaro, expect me equipp'd en militairé ! and may the God of love assist me to unbar the gate, and bear my prize triumphantly away. [Exit, L. U. E. Fig. Give it to me. Fig. And I'll to my shop, and prepare some medicines for Bartolo's servants. But, I say, youngster, let me hear a specimen of your love-songs, since you're to sing for your master, instead of Figaro. Fio. Pooh! pooh. Fig. Pooh, pooh! Come, begin-You won't? Then, listen! I'll give you a lesson in the Amoroso pathetic! Oh! Fig. DUETT-FIGARO and FIORELLO. Mighty Jove, in golden shower, Both. Faith, my comrade, tuneful thrilling! Now away, then! and success, boy! Fio. When song is flowing, When love is glowing, Thoughts bright and beaming, Fig. When cups are clinking, O'er misers dreaming, Then, then are mine! [Exeunt FIORELLO, L. U. E. FIGARO, R. SCENE II.-Rosina's Apartment. Enter ROSINA, L. Ros. (c.) What a situation has fortune placed me in! An orphan in the power of a wretch, base enough to take the advantage his guardianship gives him, to force me into a marriage with himself. This, surely, is an apology for my conduct. Immured, and in the hands of such a man, is it a crime to deliver myself from the dreadful bondage? SONG.-ROSINA. Tyrant, soon I'll burst thy chains, Sweeter bonds than thine to prove; With mild and docile air, Doves not more meek appear, I'd die to have my way;- 'Ere they my will should guide. [Sits.] Marcellina! Enter MARCELLINA, L. Marcellina, is my guardian returned? Marc. I believe he is, my lady; I saw him talking to Figaro, over the way, just now-He and Basil, your music master, seemed to be returning together. Ros. If Figaro is come in with them, send him to me privately-tell him I want to speak to him. Marc. Yes, my lady-[Aside] and I want to speak to him also, but both upon the same subject, I've no doubt. [Exit, L. Ros. I think I'll write, and explain more fully to him; but, the walls have eyes and ears, I believe, for my guardian is made acquainted with every thing I do-but I will write; [Writes.] Heaven knows if I shall be ever able to send this-however, I'll have it ready. I saw my spark through the blind, in a long discourse with Figaro-that Figaro's a good creature! when he comes I shall perhaps get some intelligence. [Folds up the letter, and puts it in her bosom. Enter FIGARO, L. Fig. All the intelligence I can communicate, you may command, Signora. Ros. Ah, Figaro! I'm glad to see you. Fig. Thank you, madam, I hope you are well this morning. Ros. No, Figaro, I am ill-dying with ennui. Fig. That's wrong, madam, in one so handsome and' accomplished as you are. Ros. Alas, Figaro what avails beauty, or accomplishments, if I am to be ever shut up within these walls! Fig. Ah, to-morrow opens your prison, gives us all some wedding-cake, and makes you Madame Bartolo. Ros. Never, Figaro! Fig. The Doctor's this moment returned with Basil, his prime minister, and your music-master; they are now closetted together, and prosing over the contract. Ros. Then it would be a pity to disturb their dreams -so, let them rest, and tell me, Figaro, who was that with whom you were in such earnest conversation, un der my window, just now ? Fig. Oh, a charming young man-a friend of mine, a student at the university, of great expectations, wonderful talent, and uncommonly handsome. Ros. You give him a high character, Figaró. Fig. Not more than he deserves, madam, I assure you! He is a dutiful son, an affectionate brother, and a kind friend; and might make his fortune by marriage over and over again, but he has one very great fault. Ro. Ah! what is that, Figaro ? Fig. The fool's in love, ma'am. Fig. The greatest, madam; what right has a poor young man like this, to fall in love? Ros. The right that nature gives, when she makes a poor young man so amiable! What is his name, Figaro ? Fig. His name is Lindor, madam. Ros. Poor Lindor! and the name of the lady who is the object of his passion? Fig. Ah, madam, that's a secret not to be divulged! the lady herself don't know of his passion, his diffidence is so great; he never told his love-but, as the English poet says, "He lets concealment, like a worm in the bud, feed on his damask cheek." Ros. Heigho! Does the lady he loves live far from this place? Fig. Quite close, madam. Ros. Is she of this neighbourhood?. Fig. Of this city, madam. Ros. And what sort of a person has she? Fig. Agreeable beyond compare :-Figure, en bon oint-Face, smiling and good-natured-hair, darkeyes, blue-cheeks, rosy-and a hand, whose touch would thaw an icicle. Ros. And her name, Figaro? Fig. Must not pass my lips, madam. Ros. Why, Figaro ? Fig. Because I've sworn my mouth should not sound her name, 'till she changes it to another. Ros. But I have seen you talk with your fingers, Figaro. Fig. [Aside.] The devil never fail'd a woman at in vention! [He makes the letters of her name with his fingers, and she repeats them with the signs:] Ros. ROSIN A.-Rosina ! -Ward to Dr. Bartolo. Fig. The same Ros. Can it be possible? Sure you do but jest; yet I will confess, I had half imagined it—but tell me all. Fig. He fell desperately in love with you at Madrid, followed you to Seville, and if you will take him, poor as he is, he will rescue you, or perish in the attempt. Ros. Can I believe you, Figaro! Fig. No, ma'am, don't believe me. and tell you himself. Ros. Come here! Are you mad? Fig. Suppose you send him a letter? Let him come Ros. A letter! Can you think I could be so imprudent? Impossible! Impossible! Such conduct would extinguish every spark of love. Fig. That depends on how the spark is attached; the same breath that blows out a candle, can blow it in again! A rude blast wili extinguish a torch, while a soft breath will light up a furnace? Ros. I can't write, but I'll send him a message. Tell him, Figaro, out of friendship-only out of friendship→ that-I-I-I don't know what to say, I'm sure! Fig. Say nothing, ma'am, but write! Lord! I am the worst at delivering a message in the world; 'tis ten to one but I say, you were stark mad with joy, and quite impatient to see him. Ros. Heaven forbid, Figaro! Then you think I had better write. Fig. Certainly, ma'am, write instantly. Ros. Well, Figaro-[Draws a letter from her bosom] then take it! Fig. [Aside.] Pretty innocent! [imitating her] "I can't write such conduct would extinguish every spark of love." Oh, woman, woman! how apt you are, and how little teaching do you want! Bar. [Without, L.] What! not one rascally servant in the way! Ros. Heavens! my guardian! If he finds you with me, he'll suspect a thousand things! Fig. Fear nothing; I'll slip down the back stairs and attend my patients, Argus and Tallboy, to whom I have administered a prescription which will be rather unpleasant. I'll then fly, and deliver your prescription to Lindor, which will revive his hopes and conjure him here in less time than you expect: so be prepared! [Exit, R. |