(Exeunt into the cottage.)
END OF ACT I.
ACT II.
SCENE.-Grand saloon of the Divan. L. Doors leading to the
Emperor's apartment. R. Doors leading to TURANDOT'S Hareem.
Black slaves discovered, engaged in setting the saloon in order;
TRUFFALDIN majestically directing them.
TRUF.
Come, look alive! His Majesty's Divan
Will soon assemble. Now, look sharp, my man!
A carpet for this throne; here sits her Highness;
Bring brooms, and sweep up all this horrid dry mess.
(Enter BRIGHELLA, looking around wonderingly.)
BRIG.
I say, Truffaldin, what's this grand array?
The high Divan again-twice in one day?
TRUF. (without minding him).
Eight seats here for the doctors!
They're all muffs,
But look imposing in their brocade stuffs.
BRIG.
Truffaldin, do you hear? What is the matter?
TRUF.
How dare you make such a confounded clatter?
You stupid, don't you know the whole Divan
Are called to meet as quickly as they can?
Another suitor for my mistress' heart
Is anxious from his silly head to part.
BRIG.
For shame! Three hours ago one victim fell.
TRUF.
This new pretender seems a precious swell.
His curly poll will grace the hangman's pole,
A charming barber's block, upon my soul!
'Twill cut a figure in our "Rotten Row;"
I think that jest is witty-Ho, ho, ho!
BRIG.
Your soul in blackness with your visage vies-
You grin whene'er a fellow-creature dies.
TRUF.
You jackanapes! None of your paltry spite;
My heart's not black,-your liver 'tis that's white;
So hold your jaw. Why should I grieve to see
That men for love such arrant fools can be?
The more the merrier; for on each day,
Our Princess 'scapes a husband's dreaded sway;
She gives us all a good jollification,
Besides munificent gratification.
BRIG.
How barbarous.
TRUF.
Now, don't you be so silly.
Her suitors are not dragged here willy-nilly;
They know the journey here their heads may cost 'em,
But 'tis no loss; for they've already lost 'em.
Perhaps that's why the riddles they can't guess,
And always fall into a hideous mess.
I'm sure my charming mistress is most lenient
To have devised a method so convenient
To rid herself, and China, of such geese;
Much harder tasks,-to fetch the golden fleece-
Or singing water-or the talking bird-
Were formerly exacted, as I've heard.
My lovely Highness is not so inhuman,
She only tests her sweethearts' fine acumen;
And if she must submit to husband's rule,
At least she'll not be governed by a fool.
(March music is heard.)
BRIG.
The royal trumpets sound. Hark, don't you hear 'em.
TRUF.
I'll run t'escort my Princess from her hareem.
Be off! and guard the palace portals,
Let none pass thro' but Mandarin-born mortals.
(Exeunt severally.)
(Enter guards and musicians; then eight doctors pedantically
dressed; PANTALOON and TARTAGLIA in characteristic costumes;
then the KHAN ALTOUM, in extravagantly rich attire, he ascends his
throne, PANT. and TART. station themselves near it. At his entrance,
all prostrate themselves, their foreheads to the ground, and remain
thus until he is seated.At a sign from PANTALOON, the march
ceases.)
ALT.
Good folk, behold your monarch much perplexed,
I must confess I'm seriously vexed.
My daughter's obstinacy quite unnerves me,
Such unforeseen and jadish tricks she serves me.
One charming prince was killed this morn, at six;
Another's just arrived,-I'm in a fix,
And worritted to death by constant butch'ry,
Of lovers caught by my fair daughter's witch'ry;
But yet I cannot break my oath. Fo-hi
Has heard my vow; his wrath I dar'n't defy.
Prime Minister, can't you some project form
And be your monarch's rudder thro' this storm?
PANT.
Celestial Majesty-
ALT.
What do you say?
PANT. (aside.)
The loudest bawling's all time thrown away!
He's deaf as any post-a perfect dummy-
It's no use preaching wisdom to a mummy.
I wish I were in Venice back again!
I had to fly her happy shores, on pain
Of being hanged, or losing liberty,
Because the bigwigs thought my tongue too free.
I hoped, as minister, I was secure
To fatten in an easy sinecure;
Instead of which, I've not one moment's leisure;
No carnival, nor any Christian pleasure.
But constant squabbles, tears, and imprecations,
Divans, beheadings, sphinxes,-I've lost patience!
I'll quit this land of pigtails, gongs, and teas;
Return to Italy, and live at ease.
ALT.
I see you're talking; speak a little louder.
PANT. (aside.)
He wouldn't hear the bursting of gunpowder.
ALT.
Tartaglia, have you seen this poor young fellow?
TART. (stammering, until he speaks Italian very glibly)-
Y-y-your h-hi-high-ness, y-y-es, a-and f-f-found h-hi-him-molto bello.
ALT.
What do you say?
TART.
S-so p-p-please y-your M-majesty,
(aside) Non posso più! che sordo! sapresty!
ALT.
Then bring this suitor to divan at once. (Exit guards.)
We'll urge him the hard trial to renounce.
PANT.
I'll try my best;
ALT.
What do you say?
PANT. (aside.)
But fear
He'll be as deaf as you, and will not hear.
(Enter KALAF, with guards. He kneels before the Khan, with
his hands to his forehead. ALTOUM regards him with pity.)
ALT.
Arise, rash man.
(Aside.) Ah, what a gallant youth,
Behead him? 'Twould be quite a shame, in sooth.
(aloud) Say, who art thou? From what far distant land
Dost come to seek in marriage that fair hand
Which only royal blood may justly claim?
KAL.
Great Khan, permit me to conceal my name;
My lineage justifies my bold desire.
PANT.
I'm sure he's nobly born and nurtured, sire.
ALT.
What do you say?
PANT. (despairingly.)
It doesn't signify.
ALT.
'Twould break my aged heart to see thee die.
I'd save thy life if possible. Oh, quit
The sharp encounter with my child's keen wit.
My heart and eyes are sickened by the blood
That's daily shed.
KAL.
Your Majesty's too good.
ALT.
I'm captivated by thy noble air;
With thee my royal throne I'll gladly share.
So thou but force me not to take thy life;
&n
bsp; Avoid the fatal Sphinx-give up the strife.
KAL.
My thanks are all I have, and these I give;
But without Turandot I will not live.
My motto is, "Or death, or Turandot."
PANT. (aside.)
He really is a most pig-headed sot!
(aloud) Young man, you cannot know the risk you run.
Th' alternative's in earnest-not in fun.
Dame Turandot will spin you a tough riddle,
That's not to be "got thro' like any fiddle."
Not such as this, which any child might guess-
(Though the Emperor could not, I must confess;)
"What gives a cold, cures a cold, and pays the doctor's bill? "
Not short enigmas lightly disentangled;
Hard nuts you'll have to crack, fresh made, new-fangled;
And if you cannot guess them all instanter,
Your head will be struck off-I do not banter.
You'll have to answer rightly in a twink;
Your head once off, you'll have no time to think.
KAL.
Your warning's vain: "Or death or Turandot."
PANT. (aside.)
For all my sermon he don't care one jot.
TART.
D-d-dear s-sir, l-let m-me p-persuade you. Lasci stare
Th-this d-dr-dread-f-ful st-str-strife, bruttissimo affare.
KAL.
Again I say, "Or death, or Turandot."
TART.
H-he-he's ho-hope-l-l-less-l-ly in l-lo-love. L'è proprio cot.
ALT.
As no persuasion moves this headstrong man,
Go, summon Turandot to this divan.
(Exit guards.)
(KALAF, violently agitated, gazes towards the hareem entrance.)
KAL.
She comes-her beauty will enchant my sight,
Ye Gods, inspire my mind with sapient might!
(March heard.Enter TRUFFALDIN, with his drawn sabre on his
shoulder. Black male and female slaves, beating tantans and
cymbals. ADELMA, in Tartar costume, and SKIRINA, both veiled.
ADELMA carries a salver upon which are sealed papers. TRUFFALDIN
and male slaves prostrate themselves as they pass ALTOUM'S throne;
the female slaves kneel, with their hands to their forehead. Then
appears TURANDOT, veiled, in rich Chinese costume. The courtiers
and doctors prostrate themselves before her. ALTOUM rises; the
Princess makes him a slight inclination, with her hands to her
forehead, then ascends the throne, and seats herself; ADELMA and
SKIRINA on either side, the former nearest the audience. TRUFFALDIN
takes the salver from ADELMA, and with exaggerated ceremony,
distributes the papers to the eight doctors, and resumes his place.
March ceases.)
TUR. (haughtily.)
Once more a vain aspirant for my hand,
Compels me here before you all to stand.
This rash intruder, who thus fondly thinks
To overcome in wit the Chinese Sphinx,
Must little prize his life. His downfall's sore.
ALT.
There stands the man. Now don't be so demure.
He's young and handsome, do have some compassion,
Don't doubly kill him, in your usual fashion.
Accept him as your husband, my sweet daughter,
Don't keep us any longer in hot water.
TUR. (after gazing at KALAF, aside to SKIRINA)-
Skirina, what can ail me? Heigho! surely
This can't be love-I feel so faint-quite poorly.
No man has ever touched my heart-but now
For this sweet youth I feel-I don't know how.
In all my life I never felt so queer.
SKIR.
At last you've fall'n in love; that's very clear.
So much the better! make your riddles plain.
And then he needn't puzzle his poor brain.
TUR.
Nay, peace, Skirina, recollect my glory.
(ADELMA has observed KALAF with emotion.)
ADELMA.
'Tis he! my former slave. I guessed his story.
My heart was right, he's one of noble birth.
TUR.
Young prince, I clearly recognise your worth.
Be wise in time. Relinquish your attempt.
Too arduous is the trial. Do not tempt
The Fates. I am not cruel, as they say,
But shun the yoke of Man's despotic sway.
In virgin freedom would I live and die;
The meanest hind may claim this boon,-shall I,
The daughter of an emperor, not have
That birthright which belongs to all? Be slave
To brutish force, that makes your sex our lord?
Why does my hand such tempting bait afford?
The gods have made me beauteous, rich, and wise,
Presumptuous man considers me his prize.
If nature dowered me with bounteous treasure
You tyrants think 'twas all to serve your pleasure.
Why should my person, throne, and wealth be booty
To one harsh, jealous master? No, all beauty
Is heaven's gift, and like the sun, should shine
To glad earth's children, and their souls refine.
I hate proud man, and like to make him feel
He may not crush free woman 'neath his heel.
KAL.
Such high-souled sentiments, so fine a mind,
Transcendent grace and beauty, all combin'd
Must justify my love and seeming boldness.
I ne'er accused you of disdain or coldness.
I duly honour maidenly reserve.-
Your favour I pretend not to deserve;
But who would not risk all, with blindfold eyes,-
To win a heaven on earth,-a Paradise?
Each day do we not see, for smaller gain,
Great captains brave the dangers of the main?
For glory's empty bubble thousands perish,
Above all treasures your fair hand I cherish;
Your heart and not your throne, is my desire;
Condemn me not if madly I aspire.
SKIR. (aside to Turandot.)
For Fo-hi's sake! three easy riddles give,
Don't let him die, but as your husband live.
ADELMA.
How noble are his words! Ah, had my sire
But known he was a prince. My heart's desire
I'll yet obtain; I'll save him by some plot,
He ne'er shall wed the hateful Turandot.
(to Turandot.) Princess, you're agitated; calm your nerves,
And treat him with contempt as he deserves.
TUR.
You're right, Adelma; thanks for your kind zeal;
He's woman's foe; no pity must I feel.
(to Kalaf.) Prepare then, arrogant young man.-
ALT.
Dear prince,
May not our Royal words your ear convince?
KAL.
I still repeat: "Or death or Turandot!"
PANT. (aside.)
My poor young man, you'll surely go to pot!
ALT.
Then read the awful mandate.
SKIR.
How I tremble.
ADELMA.
My jealousy I scarcely can dissemble.
(PANTALOON receives the Doomsday Book, first prostrating Himself
before it; then reads in a loud voice:)-"By command of his
Celestial Majesty, the Son of the Moon, cousin to the planets,
and near relative to the firmament in general,-oyes! oyes!
oyes!" (Rings crier's bell.) (Aside.) If I said what I liked, I should
say, oh no! oh no! oh no! (Aloud.) "Any person of royal
descent may sue for the hand of our daughter, Empress
propound three riddles to any suitor proposing himself as her
husband; should he be unable to unravel them, his head shall
be struck off with an axe, and exposed on the city-gate of Peking;
should he unravel them, the Empress Turandot shall become
his lawful bride, and together they shall inherit the throne of
the celestial empire. We swear it by our ancestor, the sun."
ALT. (placing his hands on the book)-
This law, tho' it cause tears and blood to flow,
I've sworn to keep, alas! it must be so.
TUR. (rises and declaims)-
A tree on which men grow and fade;
Old as the world, yet ever new;
Its leaves, on one side, live in shade,
On th' other bears the sun's bright show.
Each time it blooms a ring it wears,
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