ACT FIRST

Outside a city gate, at Pekin.

Above the gate, in a row, severed heads of young men are impaled on stakes. On the wall, at one side, more heads of older men, with grizzled locks, stare down: among them, conspicuous, one with a white beard.

It is early morning; the sun just rising.

The gate is closed.

From behind is heard barbaric martial music.

Outside, from the right, drums roll, and Chinese soldiers enter, accompanied by a few beggars and peasants.

Pausing before the gate, they sound a trumpet.

The gate is opened and they pass within, followed by all, except two beggars, a young man and a middle aged.

The gate remains open.

The middle-aged beggar points upward at the head with the white beard.

The younger starts, and prostrates himself beneath it with a deep cry.

Outside, on the left, a twanging of stringed instruments sounds faint but merry. It draws nearer, and quickly the players come running on—five tattered, motley vagabonds in masks: Scaramouche, Harlequin, Punchinello, Pantaloon and Capocomico.

The last, leading them with his baton, stops in the gateway, before which Harlequin executes a ballet-step dance, while Scaramouche, Pantaloon, and Punchinello play accompaniment on guitar, mandolin and zither.

Breaking off, Punchinello begins to improvise an imitation of Harlequin’s dance, but being beaten over his hump with a thwacking stick by Harlequin, retreats with grotesque pantomime.

At their merriment, the younger beggar, rising, draws away with the elder, making a tragic gesture toward the white-bearded head on the wall.

Perceiving them, Capocomico silences the musicians and approaches the younger beggar curiously.

Stepping between them, the older beggar salaams and asks alms.

Laughing, Capocomico turns his empty pouch wrong-side-out and bows obsequiously, extending his own palm.

The other Maskers do likewise, sticking out their tongues.

Shrinking from them, the younger beggar draws the older away with him, and goes off, left.

CAPOCOMICO

[Waving them adieu]

Mohammed, Confucius, Buddha, befriend you!—

[Turning to his troupe]

Behold, my cronies, beggars—beggarsBow down to us! Lo, they take us for lordlings!Ha, what did I tell you? Our tables are turning:In China henceforward we shall be emperors.

Behold, my cronies, beggars—beggars

Bow down to us! Lo, they take us for lordlings!

Ha, what did I tell you? Our tables are turning:

In China henceforward we shall be emperors.

SCARAMOUCHE

By the carcase of Charlemagne, I’m dog-awearyOf twanging these gutstrings for breakfast.

By the carcase of Charlemagne, I’m dog-aweary

Of twanging these gutstrings for breakfast.

PANTALOON

And us, too,Of dancing from Venice to Pekin, for sixpence.—My slippers need soling.

And us, too,

Of dancing from Venice to Pekin, for sixpence.—

My slippers need soling.

PUNCHINELLO

My poor hump is hollow!

CAPO.

Our journey is ended! Nimble Sir Harlequin,

[Bowing to each]

My lord Pantaloon, signore Punchinello,Magnificent Scaramouche—enter your Kingdom!

My lord Pantaloon, signore Punchinello,

Magnificent Scaramouche—enter your Kingdom!

SCARAMOUCHE

Enter it!—Now, by the eye-balls of ArgusWhere is this same kingdom, Signore Capocomico?My kingdom is Breakfast: Show me the gateway!

Enter it!—Now, by the eye-balls of Argus

Where is this same kingdom, Signore Capocomico?

My kingdom is Breakfast: Show me the gateway!

CAPO.

[Pointing]

Behold it before you! Within there, the tableOf Fortune is spread for us, served by her handmaids—Miming Romance, seductive Adventure,Amorous Magic—improvised Comedy,And all the love-charming, blood-thirsting EnchantmentsOur prosy old workaday world has lost wind of.

Behold it before you! Within there, the table

Of Fortune is spread for us, served by her handmaids—

Miming Romance, seductive Adventure,

Amorous Magic—improvised Comedy,

And all the love-charming, blood-thirsting Enchantments

Our prosy old workaday world has lost wind of.

SCARAMOUCHE

Ha, beard of Balshazzar! that warms me a bellyful!’Twas all for the likes of such merry contraptionsWe were kicked out of Europe.

Ha, beard of Balshazzar! that warms me a bellyful!

’Twas all for the likes of such merry contraptions

We were kicked out of Europe.

CAPO.

Precisely, my bully-boy!What would you?—At home, half the world is dyspepticWith pills of reformers and critics and realists.Fun for its own sake?—Pho, it’s old-fashioned!Art with a mask on?—Unnaturalistic,They warn you, and scowl, and wag their sad periwigs.—Sowe—the unmatched, immortal, OlympianMaskers of Antic,—we, troop of the tragical,Symbolical, comical, melodramaticalCommedia dell’ Arte—we, once who by thousandsEnchanted to laughter the children of Europe—Behold us now, packed out of town by the criticsTo wander the world, hobble-heel, tatter-elbowed,Abegging our way—four vagabond-players,And one master director—me, Capocomico!

Precisely, my bully-boy!

What would you?—At home, half the world is dyspeptic

With pills of reformers and critics and realists.

Fun for its own sake?—Pho, it’s old-fashioned!

Art with a mask on?—Unnaturalistic,

They warn you, and scowl, and wag their sad periwigs.—

Sowe—the unmatched, immortal, Olympian

Maskers of Antic,—we, troop of the tragical,

Symbolical, comical, melodramatical

Commedia dell’ Arte—we, once who by thousands

Enchanted to laughter the children of Europe—

Behold us now, packed out of town by the critics

To wander the world, hobble-heel, tatter-elbowed,

Abegging our way—four vagabond-players,

And one master director—me, Capocomico!

PUNCHINELLO

But why did you fetch us to China?

CAPO.

Because, myPunchinello, in China there are no techniciansTo measure our noses and label them false ones,Or question our subplots and call them fictitious.Here in China the world lies a-dream, like a ThousandYears Ago, and the place of our dreams is eternal.Here in China Romance still goes masquing serenelyWith dragons, magicians, clowns, villains and heroes,So that five motley fellows like us may resume ourOld tradetricks, and follow our noses to fortune!—For a taste point your own, Punch, up there at the gate-stone!

Because, my

Punchinello, in China there are no technicians

To measure our noses and label them false ones,

Or question our subplots and call them fictitious.

Here in China the world lies a-dream, like a Thousand

Years Ago, and the place of our dreams is eternal.

Here in China Romance still goes masquing serenely

With dragons, magicians, clowns, villains and heroes,

So that five motley fellows like us may resume our

Old tradetricks, and follow our noses to fortune!—

For a taste point your own, Punch, up there at the gate-stone!

PUNCHINELLO

[Staring up at the heads]

What pretty young princes!—But where are the rest of them?

SCARAMOUCHE

By Saladin! They’ve plenty of room for their breakfast!

PANTALOON

It makes me light-headed to look at them.

CAPO.

Comrades,Consider, I ask you, where else but in ChinaMay an audience view so romantic a prologue?These gentlemen open the comedy: YonderBehold, in the sunrise, they flaunt their grim SecretFor us to unravel:—Who are they? What means itThat here, on a gateway of Pekin, these goryOracular heads stare downward in silence?And yonder—those others? Who’s he in the white beard?—Love, jealousy, murder—what is their mystery?By the ghost of old Gozzi, now what are we good forUnless we untangle their shadowy intrigues!—Followme, then, my playboys! Before the next sunriseYour pouches shall burst with the gold of their Secret.—Follow me!—Yonder heads are our mascots to fortune!

Comrades,

Consider, I ask you, where else but in China

May an audience view so romantic a prologue?

These gentlemen open the comedy: Yonder

Behold, in the sunrise, they flaunt their grim Secret

For us to unravel:—Who are they? What means it

That here, on a gateway of Pekin, these gory

Oracular heads stare downward in silence?

And yonder—those others? Who’s he in the white beard?—

Love, jealousy, murder—what is their mystery?

By the ghost of old Gozzi, now what are we good for

Unless we untangle their shadowy intrigues!—

Followme, then, my playboys! Before the next sunrise

Your pouches shall burst with the gold of their Secret.—

Follow me!—Yonder heads are our mascots to fortune!

[Striking their instruments and running through the gate, they all disappear within. As their tinklings die away, the two beggars reënter, from the left]

THE YOUNGER BEGGAR

[Prostrating himself again before the white bearded head, rises with up-lifted arms]

Father!—O slaughtered King of Astrakhan,Timur, my father!—

Father!—O slaughtered King of Astrakhan,

Timur, my father!—

THE OLDER BEGGAR

[Furtively]

Calaf! Have more care;There may be ears to listen.

Calaf! Have more care;

There may be ears to listen.

CALAF

[Distractedly]

Let them hear!—Oh, he has held me, Barak, on his knee,And as a little boy I clutched that beardWith playful fingers: golden brown it wasIn those days, and the first bright silver hairWhen I had found and plucked it out—, his eyes—Oh, those poor staring eyes!—they laughed with light,And with those mummied lips,—red, then, as wine—He kissed my cheek, and his warm, happy tearsWet my own face, childish with wonder.—Ah,My father!

Let them hear!—

Oh, he has held me, Barak, on his knee,

And as a little boy I clutched that beard

With playful fingers: golden brown it was

In those days, and the first bright silver hair

When I had found and plucked it out—, his eyes—

Oh, those poor staring eyes!—they laughed with light,

And with those mummied lips,—red, then, as wine—

He kissed my cheek, and his warm, happy tears

Wet my own face, childish with wonder.—Ah,

My father!

BARAK

Hush! The soldiers of AltoumSurround us here.

Hush! The soldiers of Altoum

Surround us here.

CALAF

Altoum! damned emperorOf China—I will be avenged on himWho killed my father, and destroyed our kingdom!

Altoum! damned emperor

Of China—I will be avenged on him

Who killed my father, and destroyed our kingdom!

BARAK

And what are you to be avenged on him?—A beggar.

And what are you to be avenged on him?—

A beggar.

CALAF

I am prince of Astrakhan!

BARAK

No longer; he is dead. Remember, prince,How you were drowned a year ago. That nightAltoum destroyed your capitol in war,You leaped in flight into the river YenAnd perished there.—Do not forget.

No longer; he is dead. Remember, prince,

How you were drowned a year ago. That night

Altoum destroyed your capitol in war,

You leaped in flight into the river Yen

And perished there.—Do not forget.

CALAF

Forget?Forget that night? That night I died indeed,And rose from out the river’s chilly deathInto strange paradise: A garden, walledWith roses round: A moon, that zoned with pearlA spirit there: a lady, garbed in goldAnd her more golden smile! Wrapt in disguise—A beggar’s cloak, which you had hid me in,The river’s ooze still staining me with slime—On me—me, outcast and destroyed, she smiled,And tossed for alms the white rose from her hair!—

Forget?

Forget that night? That night I died indeed,

And rose from out the river’s chilly death

Into strange paradise: A garden, walled

With roses round: A moon, that zoned with pearl

A spirit there: a lady, garbed in gold

And her more golden smile! Wrapt in disguise—

A beggar’s cloak, which you had hid me in,

The river’s ooze still staining me with slime—

On me—me, outcast and destroyed, she smiled,

And tossed for alms the white rose from her hair!—

[Taking from his bosom a withered rose, he looks on it rapturously]

My deathless rose!

BARAK

The rose of TurandotIs dangerous as her smile.

The rose of Turandot

Is dangerous as her smile.

CALAF

Ah, were it notThat Turandot is daughter of Altoum,I would have been avenged before to-day.—But he who killed my father—is her father,And she is more than life or death, and mightierEven than a father dead and unavenged:She is love.

Ah, were it not

That Turandot is daughter of Altoum,

I would have been avenged before to-day.—

But he who killed my father—is her father,

And she is more than life or death, and mightier

Even than a father dead and unavenged:

She is love.

BARAK

Ah, desperate boy, you nurse this loveOn worse than poison. Calaf, hark to me.Have I not served you and your royal fatherFaithfully?

Ah, desperate boy, you nurse this love

On worse than poison. Calaf, hark to me.

Have I not served you and your royal father

Faithfully?

CALAF

More than faithfully: lovingly.

BARAK

Then by my love of you, I beg you, boy,Crush your mad love for Turandot, which mustLead only to your death, and hasten with meFar from your enemy’s city.

Then by my love of you, I beg you, boy,

Crush your mad love for Turandot, which must

Lead only to your death, and hasten with me

Far from your enemy’s city.

CALAF

My enemy’s?

BARAK

Altoum, if he should find you living, wouldSpike your head—yonder. Ah, be wise, my prince!Root out this rashness. Throw that rose away.See, it is withered—dead. So let your love be!

Altoum, if he should find you living, would

Spike your head—yonder. Ah, be wise, my prince!

Root out this rashness. Throw that rose away.

See, it is withered—dead. So let your love be!

CALAF

[Smiling]

Only a lover rightly loves the rose!Withered, you tell me?—dead? How dull is the senseWhich does not feel the soul! For me, Barak,This flower still blooms, and round it all the airIs sweet with spirit-perfume, even to swooning.

Only a lover rightly loves the rose!

Withered, you tell me?—dead? How dull is the sense

Which does not feel the soul! For me, Barak,

This flower still blooms, and round it all the air

Is sweet with spirit-perfume, even to swooning.

BARAK

[Rising]

Then it is vain.—My middle age has lostIts smell for magic. Well, then, I must beContent to play the beggar with my prince.

Then it is vain.—My middle age has lost

Its smell for magic. Well, then, I must be

Content to play the beggar with my prince.

CALAF

Yes, it is vain. For, still I’ll wear her rose,And, in this beggar’s cloak she smiled upon,Still haunt her perilous city.—I have heardThis morning she shall pass this eastern gateComing from the palace.—So, my old dear friend,Wait with me here, for I can only liveBy feeding on the glimpses of her face.

Yes, it is vain. For, still I’ll wear her rose,

And, in this beggar’s cloak she smiled upon,

Still haunt her perilous city.—I have heard

This morning she shall pass this eastern gate

Coming from the palace.—So, my old dear friend,

Wait with me here, for I can only live

By feeding on the glimpses of her face.

BARAK

Come, then, this way and beg, for folk are coming.

[They draw toward the gate. Barak, starting fearfully, drags Calaf away left]

Great heaven—the emperor!

CALAF

The emperor!Wait, Barak. Stop!—No further.

The emperor!

Wait, Barak. Stop!—No further.

[On the edge of the scene, they crouch by the wall, like beggars. Through the gate enter Altoum amid Chinese courtiers, accompanied by Capocomico and followed by the other Maskers]

ALTOUM

[To Capocomico]

An instant is enoughFor inspiration, and you have inspiredFresh hopes in me.

An instant is enough

For inspiration, and you have inspired

Fresh hopes in me.

CAPO.

That is my specialty,Your majesty.

That is my specialty,

Your majesty.

ALTOUM

Yet it is strangely sudden:—You and your motley troop spring in my pathLike gorgeous mushrooms from exotic soils,And tempt me by your brilliance and surpriseTo taste your newness.—Well, I am desperate:Old remedies have lost their tonic; homePhysicians have proved quacks. I know them allYou—I know not. Therefore I will acceptYour services.

Yet it is strangely sudden:—

You and your motley troop spring in my path

Like gorgeous mushrooms from exotic soils,

And tempt me by your brilliance and surprise

To taste your newness.—Well, I am desperate:

Old remedies have lost their tonic; home

Physicians have proved quacks. I know them all

You—I know not. Therefore I will accept

Your services.

CAPO.

We are practitionersIn every specialty, my liege. If weFail to perform our utmost promise—well,

We are practitioners

In every specialty, my liege. If we

Fail to perform our utmost promise—well,

[Pointing to the gate]

Our heads are decorative; they will adornYour majesty’s collection.

Our heads are decorative; they will adorn

Your majesty’s collection.

ALTOUM

Nay, not mine.Those grizzled heads of warriors on the wallAre mine: the trophies of my victories.But those above the gate—those youthful browsOf tragic lovers, hapless in their love—Those are my daughter’s.

Nay, not mine.

Those grizzled heads of warriors on the wall

Are mine: the trophies of my victories.

But those above the gate—those youthful brows

Of tragic lovers, hapless in their love—

Those are my daughter’s.

BARAK

[To Calaf]

Do you hear, my prince?His daughter’s! Oh, take heed!

Do you hear, my prince?

His daughter’s! Oh, take heed!

CAPO.

Your majestyAllures me. Is your daughter—

Your majesty

Allures me. Is your daughter—

ALTOUM

Hush! Come closer.

[He leads Capocomico away from the curtain, right. Calaf follows furtively, heedless of Barak’s gestures]

My daughter is my cause of desperation.In all but her I have been fortunate:In peace, most prosperous; in war, my worstOf rivals, Timur, king of Astrakhan—

My daughter is my cause of desperation.

In all but her I have been fortunate:

In peace, most prosperous; in war, my worst

Of rivals, Timur, king of Astrakhan—

[Pointing at the wall]

Yonder you see his head! None of his houseSurvives to avenge him, for his only sonPerished by drowning.

Yonder you see his head! None of his house

Survives to avenge him, for his only son

Perished by drowning.

CALAF

[To Barak, who implores him to draw back]

God! if I remain,I’ll kill him.

God! if I remain,

I’ll kill him.

BARAK

[Drawing him away]

Come!

[They go within the gate]

CAPO.

Was this long since, my liege?

ALTOUM

This day one year ago.—Some months I keptOld Timur caged before I bleached him there.—And strangely it was on that very nightI conquered Astrakhan the change began.

This day one year ago.—Some months I kept

Old Timur caged before I bleached him there.—

And strangely it was on that very night

I conquered Astrakhan the change began.

CAPO.

The change—my liege!—what change?

ALTOUM

In Turandot,My daughter. Always till that time her mindWas tender-mannered as her face is fair.Till then, there was no creature living whomShe would have harmed, even with a thought of pain—Least of all those who loved her. But that night,Groping by moonlight from her rose gardenInto my war tent, half distractedlyShe forced from me a promise—

In Turandot,

My daughter. Always till that time her mind

Was tender-mannered as her face is fair.

Till then, there was no creature living whom

She would have harmed, even with a thought of pain—

Least of all those who loved her. But that night,

Groping by moonlight from her rose garden

Into my war tent, half distractedly

She forced from me a promise—

CAPO.

What to do?

ALTOUM

To make this edict: For a year and a day,All royal suitors of her hand in marriageMust answer first three riddles put by her:To him who answers right she shall be wed;But all who answer wrong shall straightway dieAnd their dissevered heads be spiked in scornHigh on the city’s gate.

To make this edict: For a year and a day,

All royal suitors of her hand in marriage

Must answer first three riddles put by her:

To him who answers right she shall be wed;

But all who answer wrong shall straightway die

And their dissevered heads be spiked in scorn

High on the city’s gate.

CAPO.

[Looking at the gate]

So those are theyWho answered wrong!

So those are they

Who answered wrong!

ALTOUM

None yet has answered right.

CAPO.

But why, my liege—

ALTOUM

Why did I give consentTo publish the mad edict? This is why:I worship Turandot. There is no whimOf hers I would not grant to make her happy,—But ah!—how can I make her so?

Why did I give consent

To publish the mad edict? This is why:

I worship Turandot. There is no whim

Of hers I would not grant to make her happy,—

But ah!—how can I make her so?

CAPO.

Is sheUnhappy, then, in her success?

Is she

Unhappy, then, in her success?

ALTOUM

At timesShe weeps to hear the headsman’s gong, but whenHer lovers cry to her for pity, straightHer eyes grow cold with sudden crueltyAnd give the sign for death.

At times

She weeps to hear the headsman’s gong, but when

Her lovers cry to her for pity, straight

Her eyes grow cold with sudden cruelty

And give the sign for death.

CAPO.

Have you no clueFor this?

Have you no clue

For this?

ALTOUM

[Distractedly]

No clue? Gods of my ancestors,Have I not sought a thousand counsels, allIn vain!—A gentle girl, a dove of maidens,Sudden transformed to be a thing of talons—A harpy-tigress! Clue? What clue have IFor murder in the bosom of a dove?—

No clue? Gods of my ancestors,

Have I not sought a thousand counsels, all

In vain!—A gentle girl, a dove of maidens,

Sudden transformed to be a thing of talons—

A harpy-tigress! Clue? What clue have I

For murder in the bosom of a dove?—

CAPO.

Softly, my liege. That is my specialty.

ALTOUM

So I have heard from specialists before;Yet now I feel new hope. If you shall findThis clue—whether it be some hidden, strangeIndisposition, or some secret reasonConcealed by her—andif you find the cure,—To you, and to these motley friends of yours,I will bequeath power and provincesAnd wealth unbounded. But—pay heed, Sir Capo!If you shallfailto find this cause and cure,By holy Confucius, I willdoomyou allTo tortures and slow death. So to performYour task, I grant one day—until the hourOf noon to-morrow. Are you satisfiedTo undertake the task? If not, begone!

So I have heard from specialists before;

Yet now I feel new hope. If you shall find

This clue—whether it be some hidden, strange

Indisposition, or some secret reason

Concealed by her—andif you find the cure,—

To you, and to these motley friends of yours,

I will bequeath power and provinces

And wealth unbounded. But—pay heed, Sir Capo!

If you shallfailto find this cause and cure,

By holy Confucius, I willdoomyou all

To tortures and slow death. So to perform

Your task, I grant one day—until the hour

Of noon to-morrow. Are you satisfied

To undertake the task? If not, begone!

CAPO.

Your majesty, I am most itching pleasedTo undertake it—on conditions.

Your majesty, I am most itching pleased

To undertake it—on conditions.

ALTOUM

What?

CAPO.

For this one dayImust be emperor,In place of you, and these my motley friends—Prime-ministers.

For this one dayImust be emperor,

In place of you, and these my motley friends—

Prime-ministers.

ALTOUM

My star!—What then, Sir?

CAPO.

Then,My liege, I most devoutly stake my headAnd theirs, with these our masks thereto pertaining,Not merely to ascertain the cause and cureOf your fair daughter’s malady, but also—For this, my liege, is mytruespecialty!—I undertake to see her happilyPlight in a perfect marriage of romance.

Then,

My liege, I most devoutly stake my head

And theirs, with these our masks thereto pertaining,

Not merely to ascertain the cause and cure

Of your fair daughter’s malady, but also—

For this, my liege, is mytruespecialty!—

I undertake to see her happily

Plight in a perfect marriage of romance.

ALTOUM

Great Buddha! Now, this quickens my stale blood—To meet one man of live audacity!Ha! bid me abdicate—usurp my throne—A one day’s emperor!—Good; be it so.Agreed:—But on your head the consequences!

Great Buddha! Now, this quickens my stale blood—

To meet one man of live audacity!

Ha! bid me abdicate—usurp my throne—

A one day’s emperor!—Good; be it so.

Agreed:—But on your head the consequences!

CAPO.

May the consequences let my head be on!—Where shall I find your daughter?

May the consequences let my head be on!—

Where shall I find your daughter?

[A deep bell sounds within the walls. Calaf reënters with Barak]

ALTOUM

Hark! the gong!

CAPO.

What gong?

ALTOUM

The gong of death: the execution.Another hapless lover has guessed wrongThe fateful riddles. Now the headsman holdsHis head, and Turandot is coming hereIn state, to impale the gory token—yonder.

The gong of death: the execution.

Another hapless lover has guessed wrong

The fateful riddles. Now the headsman holds

His head, and Turandot is coming here

In state, to impale the gory token—yonder.

BARAK

[To Calaf]

You hear!—You hear?

CALAF

O happy lover, whomThe dearest of women honors so in death!

O happy lover, whom

The dearest of women honors so in death!

BARAK

Madness!

ALTOUM

[To Capocomico]

By heaven, I am impatient ofSuch slaughter. See you stop it.

By heaven, I am impatient of

Such slaughter. See you stop it.

CAPO.

[Nodding loftily]

We shall bearIn mind your supplication, Sir.—MeanwhileMy crown!

We shall bear

In mind your supplication, Sir.—Meanwhile

My crown!

[He extends his hand for Altoum’s crown. Altoum, startled, smiles, takes it off and hands it to him]

ALTOUM

Gods of my ancestors!

CAPO.

[Putting on the crown]

And nowPresent to us our court!

And now

Present to us our court!

ALTOUM

[Bows, laughing]

Well said, my liege!

[Turning to the Chinese courtiers, he beckons them]

Doctors and ministers of the royal Divan!Witness our will:—Until to-morrow noonWe abdicate our throne, and in our placeAppoint, with all our high prerogatives,Our friend and servant—Capocomico.Salute your emperor!

Doctors and ministers of the royal Divan!

Witness our will:—Until to-morrow noon

We abdicate our throne, and in our place

Appoint, with all our high prerogatives,

Our friend and servant—Capocomico.

Salute your emperor!

CAPO.

[Nodding affably]

Emperor,pro tem!

THE CHINESE COURTIERS

[With murmurs of astonishment, prostrate themselves before Capocomico]

Salaam!

CAPO.

Not at all. Delighted! We will nowPresent our friend and servant—Scaramouche,Prime-Minister!

Not at all. Delighted! We will now

Present our friend and servant—Scaramouche,

Prime-Minister!

[The courtiers salaam before Scaramouche, who puts his hand on his heart and blows them a kiss from his drawn sword-point]

And next, Sir Harlequin,Prime-Minister!

And next, Sir Harlequin,

Prime-Minister!

[The courtiers repeat. Harlequin replies with a ballet-curtsy]

His lordship, Pantaloon,Prime-Minister!

His lordship, Pantaloon,

Prime-Minister!

[The courtiers repeat. Pantaloon shuffles nervously]

And Signore Punchinello,Prime-Minister!

And Signore Punchinello,

Prime-Minister!

[The courtiers repeat. Punchinello, tapping his nose, bows sagely. The four Maskers assume toploftical airs and gather about Capocomico]

And now, Prime-Minister, are your four headsAll dumb? Your emperor awaits advice.

And now, Prime-Minister, are your four heads

All dumb? Your emperor awaits advice.

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