“Never? Will she when they are married?”
“Here—house! who is there? Why, as I’m a doctor, ’tis Ernesto.”
“Well, well.”
“I, Doctor Malatesta, speaking for Don Pasquale, grant you the hand of Norina, and an income of four thousand dollars a year.”
“Dear uncle, is this true?”
“Dear nephew, yes it is.”
“And I (stamp of the foot) oppose it.”
“And I (don, shaking his head) do not. Go and fetch her, some one; go and fetch her straight.”
Said the doctor. “No one need go far, for she, Norina’s here.”
“What—what—what—what—what!”