Turandot: The Chinese Sphinx. Friedrich von Schiller

Barak, help me to my heart's desire.

      Her stern ordeal I'll undergo – to solve

      Her problems or to die, is my resolve.

BARAK

      Desist from your intention, I conjure you,

      Let my remonstrance of this madness cure you.

KALAF

      You speak in vain. My fortune now or never,

      Shall be ensured for aye, or lost for ever.

      One stroke will end my life, or I shall gain

      The fairest woman e'er beheld, and reign

      An Emperor of Chang's celestial state.

      O smile upon my hopes, benignant Fate!

      (During this speech, a Chinese executioner hasappeared on the city gate, bearing a pole uponwhich is fixed a turbaned head: he places it inthe row, and disappears.)

      But tell me, Barak, shall I in divan

      Behold the lovely daughter of the Khan?

BARAK

      A spectacle more thrilling now behold,

      That head just smitten off. My blood runs cold,

      To think that yours may be thus closely shaven.

KALAF

      Nay, fear is not for princes – I'm no craven.

      (Contemplates the head with compassion.)

      Poor youth, deserving of a better fate.

BARAK

      Sweet prince, renounce th' attempt.

KALAF

      Too late, too late!

BARAK

      I fear you'll fail to guess the Sphinx's riddles.

KALAF

      I'll cut the Gordian knots right down their middles!

      I'm not so stupid as some folks suppose;

      'Twill not be easy my quick wit to pose.

      I fancy I shall come off with éclat;

      But if I fail, it does not matter, pshaw!

      If in this enterprise I lose my life,

      Present my compliments to your good wife;

      My horse be hers, in payment of her trouble.

      Heigho! this world's a dream, and life's a bubble!

      (Going. Enter SKIRINA from the cottage.)

      Reveal my name to none. Nay, do not cry,

      You've wept me once before as dead. Goodbye.

SKIR

      Why, what's the matter? You are melancholy.

BARAK

      Oh, help me, wife, restrain this youth's mad folly;

      He's off to Peking – means to dare the Sphinx!

SKIR

      He's sure to die – my heart within me sinks!

      What put such silly nonsense in your head?

      You've got brain fever; bless you, go to bed.

KALAF

      Pray save your breath. My fever needs no nurse

      But Turandot's fair hand. Here, take my purse,

      I have no farther need of money; for

      I either die, or shall become an Emperor.

      (Exit hastily into the city gate.)

BARAK (following him)

      Dear master, hear me; stay; all, all in vain;

      I ne'er shall see his blessèd face again!

SKIR

      You know my stranger-guest? how very funny,

      Let's try to catch him, and return his money.

BARAK

      Wife, be not curious; no questions ask,

      He's gifted with such mental powers, the task

      Of coping with the Sphinx he may achieve —

      His doom unto the gods we now must leave.

SKIR

      We'll sacrifice a pig to great Fo-hi,

      He'll perhaps contrive your handsome friend shan't die.

      (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 themTRUF

      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