Turandot

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

Turandot, on the following conditions:-The Princess shall

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,

It tells the age of each event.

Upon its bark men's names it bears,

Forgotten e'er its life be spent.

What is this tree, so young, so old,

So sunny warm, so icy cold?

KALAF. (ponders awhile, then bows to the Princess)-

Too happy is your slave, divine Princess,

If nothing harder he may have to guess;

This ancient tree which ever buds anew,

Which sun and shade, man's age and deeds doth shew,

It is 'a year,' revolving day and night.

PANT. (joyfully.)

Shake hands, Tartaglia, I'm quite sure he's right!

TART.

A-a-as-ass-tounding! Sono contentissimo!

DOCTORS (having opened the papers).

Eureka! Optime! Optissimo!

(Flourish of gongs and cymbals.)

ALT. (graciously.)

Fo-hi protects thee, son; He'll save thy life.

ADELMA (aside.)

Ye gods, let not my rival be his wife,

Though I rejoice her vanity is vext.

SKIR.

I hope he'll be as clever at the next!

TUR.

Shall he outwit me? No, by sun and moon;

(to KALAF.) Your joy's precocious-triumph not too soon.

(Rises and declaims)-

Canst thou the fragile mirror name,

Reflecting all creation on its limpid face;

'Tis closed within a narrow frame,

Yet compasses high heav'n's blue vault of endless space.

This crystal is of priceless worth,

But yet the poor possess it, nor possession pay;

It is the brightest gem on earth,

It gives and yet receives its heaven-born brilliant ray.

What is this mirror bright and clear,

Free given to all, to all so dear?

KALAF (ponders, then bows to the Princess).

Your mystery's not hard to penetrate;

The mirror you describe so small, so great,

So priceless, so benign, 'the eye' must be,

A heaven 'twill show if thine speak love to me.

PANT. (embraces TART.)

He's shot the bull's-eye through the very middle.

SKIR.

I never knew his equal at a riddle.

DOCTORS (having opened the papers).

Eureka! Optime! Optissimo!

(Flourish of gongs and cymbals.)

TART.

Bravo-o-o! Bravissimo! Benissimo!

ALT.

I give you joy; you are a clever fellow!

PANT.

Our Chinese Sphinx with rage is turning yellow.