And at this moment arrived Doctor Bartolo, with a posse of people—the Alcade, and one, two, three—a whole regiment of alguazils.
“Arrest them, arrest them all.”
“What me. Figaro—arrest me!”
“I say arrest them all, they all are thieves.”
It is reported that the alcade marched up to the count with great dignity, but when he saw who it was—a real living count—he fell back without any show of dignity whatever.
And to a certain question that the doctor put to Figaro, this was all the reply:—“Chink, chink.” The question—simply how it was that Figaro could turn against him and betray him: “Chink, chink.” An argument without reply.
The doctor was not a bad doctor—and as he could do himself no good by being angry—and as the bridegroom was a count—why he forgave them.
And as this chronicle is all about the loves of two people who are now happily married, and about a guardian who is a guardian no longer, why, obviously, this chronicle is ended.
RIGOLETTO. (Verdi.)
This tells of a hunch-back only, who wears two masks,
The one is mocking jest—the second godlike love,
And if he wears them both too mixedly—chide not—
But dole him and his woes some pity.
Now fall to.