Ros. I shall be all anxiety, till I know what his plans are I declare, I tremble so already, I can scarcely stand, and here comes my tyrant !

[Sits to her tambour and sings. Bar. Oh! a plague of that Figaro! I never let him into my house but he does me some mischief!

Ros. What now, sir? What has Figaro done to vex you now?

-Bar. Done! the damn'd Barbering Surgeon, in ten minutes, has laid up my whole family: not a servant has escaped him; he has given the footman a sleeping draught; the cook, a sweat; the coachman, a sneezingpowder; he has bled the porter in the foot; and clapp'd a plaister on the single peeper of the one-eyed mule.

Ros. If you want any thing, sir, I'll attend you with much pleasure.

Bar. You are remarkably obliging to-day, Rosina; you kindly offered to sing me a song, and more kindly threw it into the street, for somebody to whip it up!

Ros. I dropped it by accident, sir: and perhaps the wind, or some chance passenger

Bar. Yes, yes, the wind! there is something in the wind, I believe! And the chance passenger was waiting to pick up any paper the lady might drop on purpose, by accident.

Ros. Your suspicions, sir, are as unfounded as they are offensive.

Bar. They are offensive, Rosina, because they are not unfounded. I dare say, I am not right in suspecting that Figaro has been with you?

Ros. Why, sir, are you jealous of Figaro ?

Bar. Figaro is a man, madam!

Ros. And must I be in love with every man I see? Bar. I don't know,

Ros. Yes, you do, sir; for I see you every day, without being in love.

Bar. That's not to the purpose-Has not Figaro brought you an answer to the billet you dropped out of the window?

Ros. Continue, sir, to insult me with your ungenerous surmises-I know I must bear it.

Bar. And Figaro has not brought you a letter

Ros. No, sir, on my honour.

Bar. And have you written no answer to any thing he has brought?

Ros. No, sir.

Bar. Perhaps you have not written at all?
Ros. No, sir.

Bar. [Catching hold of her hand.] Then how came your finger mark'd with ink?

Ros. Ink, sir-that's a burn-I burnt my finger and it made a mark, so I put some ink on it, to send it away.

Bar. Oh, you burnt it! and did you burn one of the sheets of paper I left here? There were three, and there are but two remaining-but, I suppose, you put some ink on that and sent it away.

Ros. No, sir-I-I-that sheet of paper, I used to wrap some sweetmeats in which I gave to Figaro Bar. Gave Figaro sweetmeats?

Ros. Yes, sir, for little Agnes..
Bar. And who the devil is little Agnes?

Ros. His niece, sir.

Bar. I never heard of her-he has no niece.

Ros. Oh! yes, yes, little Agnes, a baby.

Bar. Oh! you wrapt up some sweetmeats, to send by Figaro, to the little baby, which of course must have wanted directing, for I see the pen has been used lately, as the ink is yet wet in it.

Ros. No, sir, I used that pen to draw a flower for my tambour.

Bar. A flower! what flower? a devil in a bush?
Ros. It wasn't Heartsease, I'm sure, sir.

Bar. Oh, Rosina, Rosina! you attempt in vain to impose on me! In, in to your chamber; and with the lattice lock'd on one side, and this door on the other, perhaps I may secure you.

Ros. My person but not my mind, that is as free as air; nor bolts, nor bars, can ever fetter that.

[She goes in R.-he locks the door. Bar. Oh, woman, woman! thou beauteous bit of mischief; how you torment us through life-at twenty, you're pleasing;-at forty, teasing ;-and ever after a perpetual blister.

Never certain long together;

Foul and fine,
Rain and shine,

Calm, and breeze, and squall!
Always ranging,
Shifting, changing,

Quicker than the wildest weather!

Soothing, vexing,

Never fixing;

Devil take 'em all!

For woman-kind, &c.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-A Chamber

Enter MARCELLINA,

Mar. What a disagreeable house this is! nothing but noise and snarling! my old master may lock Rosina up, but, if my spark keeps his word, she'll soon be released, in spite of him! [A knocking at the street door, L. S. E.] Whom have we here? [Knocking repeated.] The Don's in a hurry, whoever he may be. Well, I

must be porter to-day, for not a man servant in the house but Figaro has disabled.

Enter BARTOLO, L.

[Knocking again.

Bar. Hey-day! what thundering noise is this? Is the house on fire, or, are we besieged?

Mar. Besieged, I dare say, sir, for they are soldiers that are so clamorous.

Bar. Soldiers! what the devil have I to do with soldiers?

Mar. You know, sir, the whole city's full of them; they are quarter'd in every house, and these, I suppose, fall to your share.

Bar. Oh! this completes my misery! I dare not refuse them, and yet I dread to let them in. Argus ! Tallboy! come and answer the door, Argus, I say!

Enter ARGUS, R. stretching and yawning.

Oh! you are here, sir?

Argus. A-a-a-h-ah!-did you a-a-ah-ca-a -a-ll-sir?

Bar. Call, sirrah! aye, don't you hear the knocking at the door? its loud enough to wake the dead, old opium-where have you been?

Argus. Sir, I wa-a-a-s—

Bur. Was contriving some roguery.

Argus. No, sir; Fig-a-a-ro f-f-ound me very ill, and ga-a-a-ve me a-a-a draught to compose

me.

Bar. Compose-a scoundrel-How dare he give you a draught without my prescription? Where's Tallboy? Call him to me.

Argus. Tall-b-o-o-y?

Bar. Shut your mouth, you fool, an let me call him myself-Tallboy! Tallboy!

Enter TALLBOY, L. sneezing.

Tall. Atchi!-here-here-Chi-chi-here, sir.
Bar. The fellow will sneeze his head off.

Tall. I've sneez'd above fif-fif-fif-atchi-fifty times in a minute. It has shook-shook-shook-At

chi! Oh! shook me to pieces.

Bar. Hark ye, rascals!
Argus. Ye-e-es, sir!

Tall. Ye-ye-atchi! yes, sir!

Together.

[Loud knocking at the door.

Bar. Oh! you gaping, sneezing scoundrels! There's some roguery at the bottom of this.-Get about your business! I'll go to the door myself.

[Exeunt ARGUS, TALLBOY, and BARTOLO.

Mar. Excellent Figaro! he has completely disabled Tallboy and Argus-they can give no interruption to our lovers. But Rosina is lock'd up, and though they may get admittance into the house, it will require addi tional ingenuity to get her out of it.

Enter BARTOLO, L. S. E. backwards, trying to prevent COUNT ALMAVIVA from entering-the COUNT is disguised as an officer, and affects drunkenness.

Bar. If you would do me the favour to walk into another room

Count. Yes, yes, I'll do you the favour to walk intu your rooms, old boy!

Bar. Drunk too! Oh, dear! This room you won't like, sir.

Count: You're quite right, sir-I do like it much. Bar. But, sir, I believe I have a privilege, whichexempts me from having troops quartered on me..

Count. Yes, yes, you're exempt, quite exempt, that made me come.

Bar. Yes, sir, it is a licence which expressly states, I'm not to have one

Count. No, not one; [stopping his mouth.] certainly not one. So, there are two of us; my comrade, he's a little sober, I'm a little mellow, you old rogue! and that's the way we soldiers carry on the war.

Bar. What am I to do? Where is your billet? Let met look at it.

Count. My billet?

Bar. Aye, your billet; for my exemption I carry about with me. [COUNT turns from him.] Here it is [Takes paper from his pocket. Count. Aye, here it is, sure enough. [Staggers to a chair and sits down.] You're exceedingly polite, and I will sit down with a great deal of pleasure.

Bar. Sir, I did'nt ask you to sit down.

Count. Oh, my dear sir, you are extremely kind, and I'll accept your offer.

Bar. This fellow'll drive me mad. I ask you, once for all, to see your billet, or in this house you don't stay. Count. Billet! billet! oh, yes, you shall see it; it is but right. [Rises and draws his sword.] Here it is; look at it, my old boy!