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;
Avoid the fatal Sphinx-give up the strife.