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anonymous letter Antonio's cottage Barb Barbarina barina Basil beauteous bride castle chair charming Cher comes Coun Count Almaviva Countess Almaviva Countess and Susanna crown the marriage dance dear dress dressing-room DUETTO endeavouring Enter Antonio Enter Cherubino Enter Figaro Enter Susanna Enter the Count Enter the Countess enters the pavilion exist without love Exit faithless fear Figaro and Susanna Fior Fiorello garden give gown hand happy hear heard heart Hush jealous jumped kiss kneel lady ladyship lasses leap Liston look lord lordship madam Marc Marcellina meet the Count morning Music ne'er never Opera pardon perceive perhaps plot poor youth pray pretty Pushes Antonio receive ribband runs sanna SCENE Seville sigh signs to Figaro SONG sure Susanna's cap suspicion tell thee thou told tricks turn twas Vassals Villagers voice window young Zounds
Page iii - and other speeches of reference to the person, are great wastes of time; and though they seem to proceed of modesty, they are bravery.
Page 19 - drank it. Then fill the bowl, each jolly soul, Let Bacchus gild our revels; Join cup to lip, with hip! hip! hip! And throttle the blue devils.
Page 26 - Enter the Count. 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,)
Page 26 - I suppose, putting the chairs and tables to rights. Count. What! your favourite woman turned housemaid! you told me just now, she was in her own room. ,! Countess.
Page 34 - 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
Page 34 - is an inventory of your lordship's sword-knots, ruffs, ruffles, and roses—Must take care of this. (Endeavours to gain time, and keeps glancing and hemming to
Page 30 - Countess. No, no, my lord! I am no longer that Rosina whom you formerly loved with such affection !—I am now nothing but the
Page 35 - To get what ? it wants nothing ! Fig. Oh ! my lord, what it wants, to be sure, is a mere trifle. Count . What trifle