Turandot: The Chinese Sphinx. Friedrich von Schiller
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.)
The royal trumpets sound. Hark, don't you hear 'em.
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 pedanticallydressed; PANTALOON and TARTAGLIA in characteristic costumes; then the KHAN ALTOUM, in extravagantly rich attire, he ascends histhrone, PANT. and TART. station themselves near it. At his entrance, all prostrate themselves, their foreheads to the ground, and remainthus until he is seated. At a sign from PANTALOON, the marchceases.)
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?
Celestial Majesty —
What do you say?
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.
I see you're talking; speak a little louder.
He wouldn't hear the bursting of gunpowder.
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.
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