The Follies of a Day; or, The Marriage of Figaro / A comedy, as it is now performing at the Theatre-Royal, Covent-Garden. From the French of M. de Beaumarchais

by Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais

Figaro. 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 let it be.

Count. Still at his Wiles.——

Countess. Why, my Lord, would you oblige him to speak truth, so much against his inclination? (Count and Countess walk familiarly up the stage.)

Susan. Hast thou seen the Page?

Fig. Yes, yes: you have shook his young joints for him, among you.

Enter ANTONIO, the Gardener, with a broken Flower-pot under his arm half drunk.

Antonio. 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.

Count. A Man!—(The Count’s suspicions all revive.)

Antonio. In white stockings!