Throne. Quite so,
the Little Throne.

(Two eunuchs carry TURANDOT 's throne to
its place.)

The Princess's, don't you know. We call this
the Little Throne because it's a small 'un. Quite
so. And these are the eight cushions of the
learned doctors.

(Eight slaves carry cushions past.)

The sublime Divan will assemble immediately, and
then they'll all sit on 'em—the Emperor on
the Great Throne, the Princess on the Little
Throne, and the Doctors on the eight cushions.

(BRIGELLA enters from the right.)


BRIGELLA.

I've always got the blues in Pekin. Not half!
Here's the Emperor just gone and issued a fresh
Court ceremonial again, and I can't get it into
my noddle. I keep on practising. I can't do
anything without practising. Oh, all right, you're
a laughing at me. What are you laughing about?


TRUFFALDINO.

Business is good, that's what I'm laughing for.
My business and my adored Princess's. Trade's
flourishing, praised be the Lord! Huge turnover,
commissions promptly executed. Greatest
stock of sheep's heads in the world. The Divan
will assemble immediately. There's another prince
arrived, with his head itching.... Ut veniant
omnes—let them all come.


BRIGELLA.

No, it's getting a bit too hot, all our young
sparks going off like match-heads. Strike me
dead, a man can talk without his head—he can
talk with his belly if he's a ventriloquist—but
he can't keep his mouth shut when he's lost his
head. What are you a-laughin' at? It's no joke,
not half! It's not three hours since the last was
polished off, and you can find it in your heart to
laugh!


TRUFFALDINO.

I have good reason to laugh. Every time my
sweet adored Princess has netted one of these
sheepish little princes with her riddles she's in
such an excellent temper she's sure to present me
with a charming token of her Imperial favour.
But you have no taste for such charms.


BRIGELLA.

I've more than you, anyhow! I can't come
out with such high-flying language about your
Princess. The hysterical water-wagtail. What
right has she to turn her nose up at marriage?
Considering she knows nothing about it. Perhaps
she might like it. You never can tell.


TRUFFALDINO.

Marriage! Oh, fie!


BRIGELLA.

Look here, I can't stand hearing a carved turkey
like you cackling rot about marriage. Think of
your own mamma. If she hadn't got married,
where would you be?


TRUFFALDINO.

That's a lie. My mamma never got married at
all, and I'm here just the same. You see me, don't
you?


BRIGELLA.

True; I ought to have seen at the first glance
that you were a bastard.


TRUFFALDINO.

I am not a bastard. I am a child of love. All
geniuses are children of love.


BRIGELLA.

But all children of love are not geniuses. You,
for instance.


TRUFFALDINO.

I? I have risen in the world. I am Chief—
Chief—Chief—Administrator of the Harem. You
understand. (Music is heard.) Anyhow, you
go to the devil now and pay your customary
assiduous attention to your pages. His Sublime
Majesty the Emperor approaches....

SCENE VIII

(To the strains of music enter from the left the Imperial Guards, thereupon the eight doctors, behind them PANTALONE, TARTAGLIA, finally ALTOUM, at whose entrance all prostrate themselves, touching the floor with their brows. ALTOUM seats himself on his throne. PANTALONE and TARTAGLIA stand near him. The doctors sink on to their cushions. The music ceases.)

ALTOUM.

How long, ye faithful, shall this torture last?
Scarcely have we with seeming reverence
Mourned the poor Prince of Samarkand, mine eyes
Have scarcely dried their tears, but a new victim,
New sorrow comes. O cruel daughter, born
To be a curse to me! But what avails
To curse the day when by the highest God
I swore that edict! For I cannot break
My oath; I cannot touch my daughter's heart;
I cannot frighten those who come to woo.
Which man of you can tell me what to do?


PANTALONE.

My dearest Majesty, some other Counsellor
must advise you in this case. In my home in
Venice, Heaven knows, I never heard of such
laws. In my home there are never any edicts
of that sort. In my home princes don't fall in
love with a medallion, and then, out of sheer
love for the original, go hawking their heads about.
In my home in Venice there never was a girl
who refused a man when he offered, like this
Princess Turandot here. Heaven knows, in my
home such things don't happen even in dreams!
Before I had the ill-luck to have to run away
from Venice, and before I had the unmerited good
fortune to be appointed your Majesty's Prime
Minister, I had never heard anything about China,
except that you had to be careful not to smash
it; and Heaven knows it kind of knocks me
on the head that in this part of the world there
should be such obsolete customs and such obsolete
oaths and such obsolete males and females as
there are here in your country, Heaven knows.
And if I were to tell the story in my home in
Venice, they would say: "Shut up, you bounder!
Tell that to the marines!" They'd laugh in
my face, I tell you, Heaven knows!

(Goes to his place.)


ALTOUM.

(To TARTAGLIA.) Have you already seen the
new arrival?


TARTAGLIA.

I have, your Majesty. We have given him
the suite reserved for foreign princes. He has
a remarkably good presence, a nice face, charming
manners, and a good accent. I never saw a nicer
prince in all my life. I am positively in love
with him, and my heart goes pit-a-pat when I
think that he is at this moment on his way to
have his head chopped off, just like a silly sheep;
such a handsome prince, such a charming prince,
such a boy of a prince....


ALTOUM.

O sorrow!

(To PANTALONE.) Are the sacrifices made
By which we send up prayers to Providence
To teach this most unhappy man to solve
Our cruel daughter's riddles? Though I scarce
Can hope....


PANTALONE.

As far as the sacrifices are concerned, Heaven
knows, your Majesty may be quite easy on that
point. There has been no economy with regard
to the sacrifices, your Majesty. I have ordered
sacrifices to be made to High Heaven of one
hundred dogs, sacrifice of one hundred horses to
the Sun, and of one hundred cats to the Moon.
(Aside.) I, for my own part, Heaven knows,
expect nothing from this Imperial butchery except
sausages and meat-pies.


TARTAGLIA.

(Aside.) It would have been far better to
slaughter that cat of a Princess. Then everything
would be in order. That would be the best
way to end all this spitting