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

Antonio. To be sure I should, my Lord!—If I had seen him, that is.

Count. Either speak more clearly, Rascal, or I’ll send you packing to——

Antonio. 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 warrant I know when I have a good Place.

Figaro. There is no occasion, my Lord, for all this mystery! It was I who jump’d out of the window into the garden.

Count. You?

Figaro. My own self, my Lord.

Count. Jump out of a one pair of stairs window and run the risk of breaking your Neck?

Figaro. The ground was soft, my Lord.

Antonio. And his Neck is in no danger of being broken.

Figaro. To be sure I hurt my right leg, a little, in the fall; just here at the ancle—I feel it still. (Rubbing his ancle.)