Chapter II: Act IV

Great Hall of the Emperor.
[The same as Act II, Scene 2.]

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—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-aweary Of twanging these gutstrings for breakfast.

PANTALOON

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!

SCARAMOUCHE

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 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 contraptions We were kicked out of Europe.

CAPO.

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.— So _we_—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, 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 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!— Follow _me_, 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!—

THE OLDER BEGGAR

[_Furtively_]

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 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 Altoum
Surround us here.

CALAF

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.

CALAF

I am prince of Astrakhan!

BARAK

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 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 Turandot
Is dangerous as her smile.

CALAF

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 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 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, 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 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 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 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.

[_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 enough For inspiration, and you have inspired Fresh hopes in me.

CAPO.

That is my specialty,
Your majesty.

ALTOUM

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 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 adorn Your majesty’s collection.

ALTOUM

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!

CAPO.

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 worst Of rivals, Timur, king of Astrakhan—

[_Pointing at the wall_]

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.

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 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 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 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 they
Who answered wrong!

ALTOUM

None yet has answered right.

CAPO.

But why, my liege—

ALTOUM

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 she
Unhappy, then, in her success?

ALTOUM

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 clue
For this?

ALTOUM

[_Distractedly_]

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 find This clue—whether it be some hidden, strange Indisposition, or some secret reason Concealed by her—and _if 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 shall _fail_ to find this cause and cure, By holy Confucius, I will _doom_ you 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 pleased To undertake it—on conditions.

ALTOUM

What?

CAPO.

For this one day _I_ must 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 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 my _true_ specialty!— 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!

CAPO.

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 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, whom
The dearest of women honors so in death!

BARAK

Madness!

ALTOUM

[_To Capocomico_]

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

CAPO.

[_Nodding loftily_]

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 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 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 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!

[_The courtiers repeat. Harlequin replies with a
ballet-curtsy_]

His lordship, Pantaloon,
Prime-Minister!

[_The courtiers repeat. Pantaloon shuffles nervously_]

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 heads All dumb? Your emperor awaits advice.

SCARAMOUCHE

By the belly of Baal, your majesty, I move We all adjourn to breakfast.

PANTALOON

[_Quickly_]

Second the motion!

PUNCHINELLO

Hear! hear! Applause!

[_Harlequin dances to the gate_]

CAPO.

[_Correctively_]

No applause in court! The motion
Rests on the table—

[_To Scaramouche_]

with your breakfast.—Now More pressing matters urge: Our imperial Daughter—Princess of Pekin—comes.

ALTOUM

[_Gasping_]

Your daughter!

CAPO.

Daughter, _pro tem_!—

[_To all_]

The princess Turandot:
Salute her!

[_To the intermittent toll of the deep gong, soldiers
enter with procession to slow, martial music.
Amongst them, with regalia, a Headsman bears on a
pike the head of a young man, which he places beside
the others over the gate._

_Finally, accompanied by female slaves, comes
Turandot, dressed like her followers in garb of
gloomy splendor._

_In the crowd Calaf gazes at her passionately. With
him is Barak._

_The Chinese courtiers prostrate themselves._

_The Maskers bow in European fashion_]

THE CHINESE COURTIERS AND CROWD

Turandot! Salaam!

CAPO.

[_Speaks familiarly to the emperor_]

Altoum,
Present to us our newly adopted daughter!

ALTOUM

Turandot, heaven to-day has interposed To grant your prayers. Listen!

TURANDOT

[_Looking with wonder at Capocomico and the Maskers_]

I am listening, Sire.

ALTOUM

’Tis your strange prayer never to marry. Well, Henceforth I vow no more to oppose your whim. One year has passed and one day yet remains Of my rash law that dooms your lovers to death.

[_He points to the new head upon the wall_]

For that one day, to celebrate my vow And do you pleasure, I have appointed these Princes of Faraway, to usher in Our new régime. Sir Capocomico Is now your emperor; these are your court To make a festa of the law’s last day.— After to-morrow you are free forever.

TURANDOT

Sire, are you jesting?

CAPO.

Signorina, all We dream or do is jesting, and ourselves The butts of the jester. We are antics all. To advertise it is my specialty. Therefore, if we be kings or deuces hangs On how the clever jester cuts his pack. This cut I’m king, and

[_Pointing to the Maskers_]

red is trumps, not black.
So doff your mourning, daughter.

TURANDOT

If I am dreaming, Or you are jesting, this is the pleasantest jest My heart has dreamed in all one doleful year. Princes of Faraway, I welcome you. This bloody sport of spikèd lovers’ heads— I’m tired of playing it. Those heartless fools That sought to wed a princess ’gainst her will— Look how they read my riddle on the air! Love is a slippery necklace.—Bring me laughter, My one day’s Sire, and I will bow me low And kiss your garment.

CAPO.

Go and change your own, then,
To match our motley.

TURANDOT

I will go—and laugh
In going.

[_To her slaves_]

Come!

[_Turandot starts to return within the gate. Pushing
through the crowd, Calaf prostrates himself before
her, with a passionate cry_]

CALAF

Alms!—alms for hearts
That beg!

[_Reaching toward her, Calaf holds up the withered
rose._

_Gazing, Turandot pauses an instant, moves past, but,
looking back, staggers, trembling_]

TURANDOT

Ah me!

[_Swaying, she swoons in the arms of her slave,
Zelima_]

ZELIMA

My lady!

CAPO.

[_Rushing toward her, with Altoum_]

Quick! She’s falling!

ALTOUM

Turandot!—Kill the beggar.

TURANDOT

[_Faintly, recovering_]

No, ’tis nothing.

[_To Capocomico_]

Here, give him this.

CAPO.

[_Taking it, astounded_]

Your ring?

TURANDOT

A token, Sire.— A token of our new régime: to all My people—blessing, and to beggars—love.

[_She goes out_]

ALTOUM

[_Going with her_]

Attend her well, Zelima.

[_All follow after, and at a gesture from Capocomico,
pass out. Near the gate the Maskers pause and wait
for Capocomico, who returns to Calaf_]

CAPO.

Fellow, rise!

[_Calaf staggers to his feet_]

Your most high princess graciously bestows This alms—a ring, in token of her love To all the world.

[_Taking it, Calaf falls again to the ground. Barak
comes to him._

_Capocomico watches, and beckons, twinkling, to the
Maskers_]

Now heaven witness this:— He also swoons. My playboys, catch your cue. Who said Romance is buried? Here is China Where princesses and beggars swoon to meet!—

[_Surreptitiously, he takes from Calaf’s side a
wallet. Then beckons the Maskers._]

Prime-Minister, follow your emperor!

[_He departs with the Maskers_]

BARAK

[_With solicitude_]

Calaf—my prince!

[_He raises him to a sitting posture_]

CALAF

[_Dazedly_]

Her ring!

BARAK

We must be gone gone—
Danger surrounds us here.

CALAF

[_Rising_]

_Her_ ring for token!
But ah!—he said “to all the world.”

BARAK

Be quick!

CALAF

[_With suddenness_]

I will. This instant I will follow her.

BARAK

Follow her!—what, to death?

CALAF

Death or delight, Either or both, for death itself were joy For her sake.

BARAK

Do you wear that ring in hope?
A beggar?

CALAF

No, she gave it as an alms, “To all the world.” The princess of the world Would never stoop in love to wed with less Than royal blood.—There is no hope for me, A beggar.

BARAK

How, then—?

CALAF

I will go as prince— As Calaf, prince of Astrakhan, I’ll go To guess her riddles—like those others.

BARAK

No! That would be doubly death. Your head is forfeit If you are even found.

CALAF

Few know me here, or none, In Pekin; yet though every dog should know me I’ll do it.—Here, keep safe this beggar’s cloak: I love it for her sake. This ring and rose Guard as your life. Come now; help me remove This stain and straggled beard. Then wait for me, Till I have won my love—or perish there!

[_Pointing to the heads on the gate, he rushes into
the city._]

BARAK

[_Following him_]

Lord of mad lovers, save him!

_Curtain._

ACT SECOND

SCENE I: _A Room in the Harem_

_On a low bench Zelima is sealed, sewing a gorgeously embroidered garment. About her are other female slaves._

_At the back stands Chang, the chief Eunuch._

ZELIMA

[_Stops sewing and listens_]

There! Hark! I hear it again.

CHANG

I can hear nothing.

ZELIMA

You’re growing deaf, Chang. Some one is knocking—softly.

CHANG

[_Opening the door, left_]

No one is here.

ZELIMA

Below—at the outer door.
See who it is.

CHANG

I will see.

[_He goes out, closing the door. Zelima sews for a
moment; then rises, puts away her needle and spreads
out the garment, surveying it._

_From the right Turandot enters, splendidly arrayed._

_She runs impetuously to Zelima and embraces her_]

TURANDOT

Zelima! Zelima!
Little Zelima!

ZELIMA

[_Affectionately_]

My lady!

TURANDOT

Dance with me!—Dance!

ZELIMA

I heard a knocking, my lady.

TURANDOT

[_Pressing her left side_]

You heard it—here.
My lover is knocking, and I have let him in.

ZELIMA

[_Frightened_]

You’ve let him in, my lady?

TURANDOT

[_Laughing_]

Into my heart!
He came a-begging. Oh, does he love me, Zelima?

ZELIMA

[_Concernedly_]

He kept your rose.

TURANDOT

The rose I tossed from my garden In Astrakhan, one year ago to-night— Isn’t he handsome, Zelima?

ZELIMA

[_With conscientious pause_]

Handsome, my lady?

TURANDOT

Splendid and fair like a prince!

ZELIMA

He is a beggar.

TURANDOT

I spoke of his soul—his eyes. His eyes are sapphires; All other men’s are clay.

ZELIMA

[_Dubiously_]

His face was dirty.

TURANDOT

[_Slapping Zelima’s arm_]

Stop it, you dunce! His face was nobly tanned By sun and rugged wind.

ZELIMA

I thought his beard—

TURANDOT

His beard—God did his best: I want no better.

ZELIMA

_You_—want a beard, my lady?

TURANDOT

Stupid Zelima!
Where’s my new robe? I’ll wear it to-day—for him.

ZELIMA

[_Helping her on with the embroidered garment_]

You like it?

TURANDOT

Are not gold and gorgeousness For joy? To-morrow ends my year and a day. Then no more suitors—no more severed heads! I shall be free then—free to search for him Through all the city.

ZELIMA

Search for a beggar! Why,
My lady?

TURANDOT

Must I scratch your silly eyes out To make them see?—Of all men that love women, I will have none for husband—if he’ll have me— But _him_, the man to whom I gave my ring.

ZELIMA

Holy Confucius save you, lady! You, Princess of Pekin, wed a beggar!

TURANDOT

Hush! Unless I dream so and rejoice to-day Then I must wake and tear my flesh for grief That I was born Princess of Pekin. Oh, Little Zelima, let me dream I am A beggar-maid, or he, my beggar—a prince!

ZELIMA

I hope your royal father hears no word Of this, my lady. He would kill your lover Sooner than you should wed him.

TURANDOT

I know it well. So I have kept my secret this long year, And let full many a brave prince lose his head To hide my true love. Do not make me weep Again for pity and despair. For now Fresh hope has come. This Capocomico Has changed my father’s heart to set me free To-morrow. Only one more day is left; You only know my secret; none can guess it; And for this final day there is no suitor To claim my hand.

[_Chang enters, left, in perturbation. Turandot looks
up inquiringly_]

Well—well?

CHANG

Another suitor
Has come, my lady.

TURANDOT

Nay, alas!

ZELIMA

What,—here?
Is he at the door?

CHANG

Not him,—the emperor Is at the door. He comes to tell you, lady, And asks admittance.

TURANDOT

What, my father!

CHANG

[_Fidgetting_]

Not Your royal father: The new emperor Is here.

TURANDOT

Sir Capo here!

ZELIMA

[_Appalled_]

Here, in the harem!

CHANG

What should I do, your highness?

TURANDOT

[_Staring_]

What can it mean?

CAPO.

[_Entering, left_]

The new régime, fair ladies!

[_To Zelima, who runs with the other slave girls
toward the door, right_]

I beseech you, Do not be timid: All true love romances Are hatched in harems. ’Tis my specialty.

[_Dressed in robes of royal splendor, Capocomico
stands smiling at them_]

TURANDOT

Sir, this intrusion breaks our ancient law.

CAPO.

To-day—O lovely daughter!—_I_ am the law And legalize intrusion.

[_To Chang_]

You may go.

[_Chang pauses, dubious, but at a gesture from Capo,
departs hastily. Zelima goes timorously to Turandot,
whose eyes flash_]

TURANDOT

Will you make entrance here against our wills, Or why, then, have you come?

CAPO.

[_Smiling_]

For a beggar’s sake.

TURANDOT

[_With sudden start_]

A beggar’s?

CAPO.

What I bring will fill four ears—
No more.

TURANDOT

[_Faintly_]

Zelima, wait within—close by.

[_Zelima goes out, right with the slave girls_]

Well, Sire, what do you bring me?

CAPO.

Riches, child,
In a ragged wallet.

[_He takes out Calafs wallet, and holds it toward
her._]

TURANDOT

[_Starting_]

This! Why bring me this?

CAPO.

Hold it, and feel how heavy.

TURANDOT

[_Slowly takes it, peering in_]

Why, ’tis empty.

CAPO.

What is so heavy as an empty heart Hollow with yearning! This has yearned for love Until it cracked. Look there—those sorry gashes

TURANDOT

What should I do with it?

CAPO.

Heal its wounds, and fill it
With royal favor.

TURANDOT

[_Reticent_]

Sire, you talk in riddles.

CAPO.

Daughter, you kill in riddles.—Will you kill, Or heal, this beggar’s heart I bring?

TURANDOT

Ah me!

[_No longer suppressing her feelings, she kisses the
wallet passionately._]

How have you guessed my soul? How have you guessed?

CAPO.

The souls of lovers are my specialty.— When princesses grow pale, and beggars swoon, Then I bring forth my wallet—and prescribe.

TURANDOT

Alas—he swooned? Where is he? Is he ill?

CAPO.

Unnecessary questions, child: Of course He swooned. Where is he? He’s in love, Of course, and so of course is deathly ill.

TURANDOT

Oh, by the simple truth you’ve torn from me, Do not, I beg, speak sideling, but straight out: That beggar whom I love—how fares he now? Where have you left him?

CAPO.

By the city gate. There, when he saw your ring, he fell in swoon; And so I left him.

TURANDOT

[_Passionately_]

Find him! Find him for me,
And I will give you kingdoms!

CAPO.

Kingdoms, child, Are shaky things. Give me your confidence: Then I will find him for you.

TURANDOT

All my faith, My gratitude and wonder—they are yours!— When will you fetch him?

CAPO.

Soft! To achieve for you Joy in a perfect marriage of romance— That is _my_ vow. ’Tis yours, for a single day, To swear me loyalty.

TURANDOT

I swear it.—Ah, But do not tell my father. He would kill My hopes.

CAPO.

Your father—I will educate; And for your low-born lover, I’ll despatch The eight proud legs of my prime-minister To stalk the city till they stumble on him. By nightfall, I will give you news what luck They meet. Meantime, you must prepare once more Your riddles for your final suitor.

TURANDOT

[_Appalled_]

What!

CAPO.

Keedur, the young khan of Beloochistan, Waits in the hall below, to try his fate To-day.

TURANDOT

Keedur? Another! Must another Still die on this last day? Oh, misery! And I to run the awful risk once more!— When must this be?

CAPO.

This hour, in the great hall Of the imperial Divan. Rest you merry, My child, and whet your riddles sharp.—Good-bye!

TURANDOT

[_Detaining him by a swift gesture_]

Not yet! Stay yet a little: Help me!

CAPO.

How?

TURANDOT

To shape my riddles so no man that lives Can answer them.

CAPO.

[_Bows, smiling_]

Why, that’s my specialty.

TURANDOT

[_Slowly, with desperation._]

Capo, those riddles hold his life or mine: If Keedur guesses them—I’ll kill myself.

_Curtain_

SCENE II: _Great Hall of the Emperor’s Divan._

_On either side is a high tower, with entrance._

_Down scene on the left stands the Emperor’s throne, opposite the throne of Turandot._

_As the curtain rises, Scaramouche, Punchinello, Pantaloon, and Harlequin enter, dragging in Barak by four purple ropes attached to his neck._

_Barak carries a ragged bundle._

_At the centre he falls, prostrating himself before them._

_The four Maskers are dressed sumptuously in Chinese garments, worn over their own tattered garbs of motley, which—at times, when they gesticulate or move abruptly,—are fantastically visible._

BARAK

Mercy and clemency, your highnesses!

PUNCHINELLO

Your _highness_, slave! Address thy vermin speech To the Prime-Minister.

BARAK

To which, O Lord?

SCARAMOUCHE

By the eye of Og and head of Hamongog, To _us_, thou quaking mongrel! Howl thy prayers Quadrately to thy quadrigeminal master!

BARAK

[_Revolving himself fearfully_]

Mercy, O Master!

PANTALOON

First confess thyself!
Where is he?

PUNCHINELLO

Where’s thy fellow beggar? Speak!

SCARAMOUCHE

Tooth of the Turk!—Disgorge him!

[_Harlequin thwacks Barak on the head with his
flat-stick_]

BARAK

Lord, I know not. I am an old poor man. I have no fellow To beg with me.

PANTALOON

Thou lousy bag of lies!
He swooned beside thee at the city gate.

PUNCHINELLO

He took the Princess’ ring for alms. Where is he?

SCARAMOUCHE

[_Tightening his rope_]

By Sardanapalus! Squeeze off his neck And pick the secret from his gullet.

BARAK

[_As Harlequin bangs him again_]

Spare me!

[_Enter, left, Capocomico_]

CAPO.

Hah! here’s our beggar’s crony.—Where’s thy mate, Old gaffer?

BARAK

Spare me, lord! I have no mate—
I beg alone.

CAPO.

Where was he found—this fellow?

SCARAMOUCHE

Godbodikins! We caught him gutter-skulking Behind the palace.

CAPO.

What’s here in this pack?

BARAK

[_Fearfully clutching his bundle_]

Old rags, your mightiness: poor worthless pickings.

CAPO.

Conduct him to my quarters. Search him there And look what this contains.

[_The four begin to drag him out with the ropes_]

BARAK

A—yi! Alas!

PUNCHINELLO

[_Mocking him_]

A—yi, old pickings!

SCARAMOUCHE

[_Pulling_]

Sacrasacristan!
Heave-ho, my hearts!

CAPO.

Hold him in custody
Till I can question further.

BARAK

[_Crying aloud_]

Calaf, save me!

PANTALOON

We’ll save ’ee in salt, old calf!

SCARAMOUCHE

Yank-ho, there!

[_They drag him out, left_]

CAPO.

[_Stands meditating_]

Calaf!

[_Hardly have they disappeared, when Calaf enters
hastily, looking about him with a startled
expression. He is dressed in princely regalia, and
his face is shaved. Seeing Capo., he pauses
abruptly, and makes obeisance_]

CAPO.

Greetings, Sir Keedur!—You are _searching_ here?

CALAF

[_Embarrassed_]

Nothing, your majesty. It seemed I heard A voice here cry in terror.

CAPO.

Cry—on _whom_?

CALAF

Nay, Sire, I do not know.

CAPO.

’Twas just a beggar
That cried at being expelled.

CALAF

Expelled?—Where to?

CAPO.

[_With a flitting smile_]

You—care to know?

CALAF

Nay, Sire, why should I care?

CAPO.

Nay, why indeed? You caught me querying.

CALAF

[_Turning to leave_]

Forgive that I disturbed your thoughts.

CAPO.

My thoughts Were trying to construe the beggar’s cry. “Calaf, save me!” he called.

CALAF

[_Pausing, with a faint start_]

Ah—Calaf? So!

CAPO.

An odd coincidence, for ’tis one year To-night since Calaf, prince of Astrakhan, Perished by drowning in the river Yen.—

[_With slow emphasis_]

He was the Emperor’s arch-enemy.

CALAF

[_Calmly_]

An odd coincidence!

CAPO.

And still more odd It might be—might it not?—if Keedur, Khan Of far Beloochistan, had chanced to know Or meet this Calaf.

CALAF

Still more odd.

CAPO.

Perchance
He never did!

CALAF

[_Fidgetting slightly_]

I never met him, Sire.

CAPO.

[_With a quick glance_]

That being so, we must no more delay Your audience with the princess. My ear itches. Methinks by that your suit will prosper; let me Conduct you to your place of waiting. Come, And by the way, I will confide to you— I have a specialty.

CALAF

In what, Sire?

CAPO.

[_Smiling, as they go out_]

Riddles.

[_Enter Altoum and Chang. They look after Capo as he
departs_]

ALTOUM

In the harem, with my daughter—?

CHANG

[_Obsequiously_]

Even so,
O Majesty.

ALTOUM

And closeted, you say,
An hour with her!

CHANG

An hour, O Majesty.

ALTOUM

But you kept watch: The Princess, she was not Alarmed?

CHANG

Her royal highness seemed
Moved in her spirit, O Majesty.

ALTOUM

Moved? So! Well, Chang, inform me further what you note. To-day this stranger reigns as Emperor. Obey him.

[_Capo reënters, right_]

CHANG

[_Salaaming to a gesture of dismissal from Altoum_]

As your Majesty decrees.

[_Exit_]

ALTOUM

[_Greets Capo cordially_]

Hail, friend! You wear my Empire as you’d worn it Life long.

CAPO.

[_Laughing_]

I’ll wear it longer if you like.

ALTOUM

Perchance I’ll let you. As for me, I feel Lighthearted as a schoolboy playing truant. This abdicating gives me appetite For holidays.—And what success so far?

CAPO.

So far—perfection.

ALTOUM

Have you, then, discovered
My daughter’s malady?

CAPO.

I’ve diagnosed
Already, and prescribed.

ALTOUM

[_Eagerly_]

What is the ailment?

CAPO.

Ah! question the doctor when he makes the cure.— Another twenty hours!

ALTOUM

To rule is sweet, I see. Good luck attend your reign! If so, I have four kingdoms waiting for your fellows, And for yourself a petty empire—_but_, Forget not—Sire! For failure I’ve prepared Five torture chambers and a sharpened axe.

CAPO.

To-morrow, then, four kingdoms shall have kings! As for the petty empire, I’ll return it With compliments, and count myself well quit To have served your Majesty and true Romance.

[_Kettledrums are sounded within_]

Now, then, to pass the first ordeal.—Pray follow!

ALTOUM

[_Attending him, left_]

This suitor Keedur—I like well his looks And bearing. What if he should guess the riddles?

CAPO.

That lies now with the Fates—and they obey me.

[_They go out._

_To the sound of kettledrums, tambourines and music
outside, the scene is now for a moment empty. Then
from both entrances two processions enter
simultaneously._

_From the right enter Eunuchs and female slaves of the
harem; from the left Chinese soldiers and courtiers
of the Emperor’s suite._

_With ceremonial, salaaming and flare of music, the
persons in the processions group themselves on
either side about the thrones._

_Entering last in their separate processions come
Turandot and Capocomico—the latter accompanied by
Altoum, as a subordinate._

_On the right throne Turandot sits, on the
left—Capocomico._

_All the others prostrate themselves, except Altoum,
who stands beside a lesser seat, at the right of
Capo’s throne._

_Having taken their positions, at a signal from Capo,
all are served with tea in little cups, which they
sip simultaneously thrice, then resume their former
obeisances._

_To this gathering now enter three of the
Maskers—Scaramouche, Punchinello and
Pantaloon—bearing severally three golden platters,
on which stand little jeweled boxes, closed._

_Behind them follows Harlequin, who bears a great
parchment roll, which—with bows and
ballet-dancings—he lays before the throne of Capo;
then takes his stand at Capo’s left._

_Lastly Calaf enters, alone._

_Bowing to the throne, he remains in the centre, where
he gazes rapt at Turandot._

_Capo now rises, and Altoum seats himself_]

CAPO.

Powers of our royal Divan and our Harem, Once more, in token of our sovereign will, We are assembled. Let the law be read!

[_He sits. Harlequin, stepping forward with a
flourish, presents the roll of parchment to
Punchinello, who, exchanging with him his platter
for the script, reads in a shrill voice_]

PUNCHINELLO

To high Confucius and our ancestors— Worship and awe! The edict of Altoum _In re_ the royal princess Turandot Perpends: To suitors of her august hand Who guess her riddles—marriage, riches, joy! To all who fail—shame, execution, death! None save of royal blood shall qualify.

[_Harlequin receives back the roll from Punchinello,
and resumes his place_]

CAPO.

Who seeks the august hand of Turandot?

CALAF

[_Standing forward_]

I, Keedur, Khan of great Beloochistan.

CAPO.

Keedur, full many noble youths before you Have made this trial; all have failed—and died. Have you considered well their doom, O Khan?

CALAF

There is no doom for me but loss of her; If then I fail, death can but ease my doom.

TURANDOT

[_In a low voice_]

His eyes, Zelima! Oh, I would he’d look Another way.

ZELIMA

It is a lovely youth.

CAPO.

Think well, you are young. You may even still withdraw And live these many years.

CALAF

[_His eyes meeting Turandot’s, who looks at him
anxiously_]

If I must die,
I shall have lived forever in this instant.

CAPO.

Then let the trial proceed.

TURANDOT

Fair stranger, first
Hear me, and so relent.

CALAF

My spirit, lady,
Stands tiptoe to your words.

TURANDOT

You have not well Considered what you seek; but I, who know, Can better advise you. Turandot you seek, But I, who know this Turandot, can tell you She is a lady of too little worth To cause the noble lineage in your blood To die. She neither wants you, nor your death. Now leave her, Sir, and give her leave to wish you Joy of your twice escape.

CALAF

I hear you, yet I hear like one who dies out on the desert And dreams he hears sweet water tinkling.—Lady, I parch and drink dream-water. Would you dash That boon from my soul’s lips?

TURANDOT

Nay, then, no more! Hear now my riddles.—But, I pray you, look not This way, but elsewhere.

CALAF

I will close my eyes
And look upon you, listening.—I am ready.

[_Closing his eyes, he waits with a faint smile_]

TURANDOT

Tell me, O friend: What is that flower Which, dying, steals its lover’s breath, And being dead, still blooms in death, Living beyond its little hour To grow more sweet in fragrance as it grows In memory?

[_Turandot gazes pityingly. Calaf speaks with closed
eyes_]

CALAF

A withered rose.

[_Turandot starts suddenly from her throne and sinks
back, whispering to Zelima. Capo despatches
Harlequin to Turandot, who gives him tremblingly a
key, which he carries to Scaramouche_]

CAPO.

Unlock the secret box.

SCARAMOUCHE

[_As Harlequin unlocks the little box on his platter
and presents to him a strip of parchment from within
it, reads aloud_]

A withered rose.

[_A murmur runs through the assembly_]

ALTOUM

Now by my star, well guessed!

CAPO.

[_With a gesture for silence_]

The second riddle!

TURANDOT

[_With emotion_]

Stranger, you are the first of all my suitors That ever reached the second.—I have spoken To you in pity, but my pity now Is for myself, lest you should guess too well. Cease, then, I beg you. Rest content with passing Your rivals. Go! And I will give you triumph In your departure.

ALTOUM

Shame! Fair play, my daughter!

CAPO.

Silence, my lord Altoum!—What says the Khan?

CALAF

I answer here by law, risking my death. Therefore, O lady, since my love of you Surpasses life, I claim my right of law.

TURANDOT

[_Her eyes flashing_]

By heaven, cold prince, I see I wasted pity Upon a heart of ice. Meet, then, your fate! I will not weep to watch the headsman’s axe.

CALAF

I trust you will not, princess.—I am ready.

TURANDOT

[_To Zelima_]

O fiend! My fingers itch to scratch him.

[_To Calaf_]

Hear, then: Reveal, O youth: What is that fetter Which, chaining, sets its captive free, But broken, makes of liberty A weary bondage, little better Than death, to one whose spirits mount and sing In manacles?

[_Calaf remains silent, pressing his closed eyes in
thought. Altoum leans forward. The people mutter
low. Turandot gazes disdainfully. Soon, letting his
raised hands fall, Calaf speaks with tense
calmness._]

CALAF

A lover’s ring.

TURANDOT

[_Cries out_]

What’s that?

[_Clutching Zelima’s arm_]

My God! here is some treachery.

CAPO.

Open the second lock!

[_Harlequin unlocks the little box held by
Punchinello, who reads aloud_]

PUNCHINELLO

A lover’s ring.

[_A great murmur goes up from the assembly_]

ALTOUM

Wondrous! The fates are with him.

TURANDOT

[_Rising, fiercely_]

Not the fates fates— The fiends are with him. I cry out upon This answer. Some perfidious hand Has tampered with those locks.

CAPO.

Respect this hall
And presence, Princess: _We_ shall judge alone.

TURANDOT

False friend, is this your pay for all my trust, And this the perfect joy you bid me hope for?

[_To Altoum_]

Father, I cry on you to right this wrong!

ALTOUM

The wrong is yours to flout your own decree. But right or wrong, my power is hushed: Not here But yonder sits the Emperor of China.

TURANDOT

Why, this is monstrous. I am sold a slave By an abdicated father and a motley Who apes the emperor in a player’s mask!— I’ll put no further riddle.

CAPO.

[_Smiling_]

As you like, Princess, but let us keep our humors. If There be no final riddle, Keedur wins: The priests are ready to perform your wedding.

TURANDOT

[_Trembling with rage_]

My wedding!—Ah, then, I am duped indeed, And must submit to treachery. But you— O subtle Khan, dream not to shame me so, And win. I will not _live_ to be your wife.— Do you still claim your riddle?

CALAF

[_Who has stood in utter calmness_]

I am ready.

TURANDOT

[_In fury_]

Then may your answer spike your head in death!

[_Clutching her throne, she speaks with voice
quivering_]

Reply, O Prince: What may that be
Which, light of heart, causes despite,
But heavy-laden, renders light

Its bearer, making care so free That kings might give their crowns to call it Their treasure house?

[_A deep hush falls on the assembly. Calaf stands,
silent, swaying._

_Slowly he totters and falls on the steps of Capo’s
Throne._

_There, as Harlequin raises him, Capo whispers swiftly
at his ear. Suddenly then, fixing his eyes on
Turandot, who stands pale and rigid, Calaf speaks
thrillingly._]

CALAF

A beggar’s wallet.

TURANDOT

[_With a low cry, holding her side_]

Ah!

CAPO.

[_To Harlequin_]

Quickly!—The third key!

[_Swiftly Harlequin unlocks the box held by Pantaloon,
who reads aloud_]

A beggar’s wallet.

TURANDOT

[_Turning, desperately_]

Zelima!

ZELIMA

[_Screaming_]

Lady!

[_Snatching from Zelima a little dagger, she lifts it
and strikes at her own breast. Leaping to the
throne, Calaf intercepts her and turns the dagger
against himself_]

CALAF

Not you, my love!

CAPO.

Disarm them!

ALTOUM

Turandot!

[_Amid uproar, the four Maskers rush upon Calaf and
wrest from him the dagger_]

TURANDOT

[_With fierce disdain_]

Coward hearts!

CALAF

[_Uplifting his hands to Capo_]

Sire, hear my plea!

CAPO.

Order and silence!—Speak, Sir Keedur.

CALAF

Sire, If I have won this ordeal by the law— Declare it.

CAPO.

You have won.

CALAF

Then I renounce All I have won, and place before this court A counter plea. Shall it be granted?

CAPO.

What
Do you petition?

CALAF

Sire, since it would shame me And her, to take this noble princess’ hand Without her heart, I quit my claim, but ask In substitute, a boon:—I, whom you call Sir Keedur, Khan, am royal and a prince, But I am not Khan of Beloochistan. Keedur is not my name.

TURANDOT

So, treachery
Once more!

ALTOUM

Peace, daughter!

CAPO.

[_To Calaf_]

Speak. What is your plea?

CALAF

This, Sire: Since I have answered now three riddles Of Turandot, that she—to make fair play— Shall answer one of mine. If she shall guess it, I then depart, but if she fail, I stay— And wed her.

TURANDOT

[_Scornfully to Capo_]

Ha! This jesting, Sire, fits well
Your new régime.

CAPO.

[_To Calaf_]

What is your riddle?

CALAF

This: Reveal, O Lady: What is he, His true-born name, His father’s fame, Who, desperate for love of thee, Assumed from far Beloochistan The false name—Keedur, Khan?

TURANDOT

Nay sir, I’d scorn to answer. What you are, Or who, or whence—to me henceforth ’tis nothing.

CAPO.

Softly, quick tongue! To us the game seems fair. Sir nameless lover, you shall have your plea. ’Tis granted.

TURANDOT

[_Trembling with rage_]

What!—O miracle of shame!
Perfidious Masker!

CAPO.

This your riddle shall Be answered here to-morrow by this lady, Or else you shall be wedded to her here Before high noon.

TURANDOT

[_Descending swiftly from the throne_]

Fools! I defy you—both!

[_Flinging her sceptre at Capo’s feet, she rushes
out_]

CAPO.

[_Rising_]

Follow her!

[_At his gesture, the four Maskers follow after. Amid
loud murmur and commotion Calaf stands staring at
the empty throne_]

_Curtain_

ACT THIRD

[2]SCENE I: _An anteroom in the harem. Night._

_In the centre of the columned room is a table, on which—softly illumined—stands a large crystal bowl, filled with swimming gold fishes._

_Nearby, Turandot sits weeping, Zelima beside her. Outside, the shrill voice of Punchinello is heard singing to the twang of stringed instruments:_

_O Lady, Lady, let fall your tears
No more, no more, for foolish fears,
But let in your true playfellow;
For Sorrow’s a thief
Brings Love to grief,
But a merry heart makes him mellow,
And a merry heart, O, a merry heart
Never yet kept fond lovers apart,
Nor pinched the shoe of their Punchinello._

TURANDOT

[_Savagely_]

Drive them away, Zelima! Drive them away!

PUNCHINELLO, SCARAMOUCHE, AND PANTALOON

[_Singing together outside_]

And a merry heart, O, a merry heart Never yet kept fond lovers apart!

ZELIMA

[_Going to the door, puts her head out_]

Begone!

[_She returns to Turandot. The twanging outside
decreases, but still continues_]

Take courage, Lady.

TURANDOT

Oh, I have lost Courage and faith and kindness. All is dark— Dark and disgrace.

ZELIMA

’Tis no disgrace to win
A husband.

TURANDOT

_Win_ him!—To be tricked and sold In slavery to one I love not—lose The one I love, and truckle to the word Of an upstart—a false, masquing popinjay Of an emperor!—Yet, no disgrace! Ah me, Why did your little dagger fail me? Now I have no pluck of soul to try once more.

ZELIMA

The gods forbid! ’Twere very wicked, Lady: And him, that saved you, and gave back your freedom So gentlemanly!

TURANDOT

Ha! and caught me again With his own riddle! Heaven, I hate him. Yet— Zelima, did you see his eyes?

ZELIMA

[_Nodding_]

Most strangelike
They were.

TURANDOT

I must not think upon his eyes, Or I might hate him less. No, only one Of all men wears the gazes which I love, And he is lost to me.

ZELIMA

Why lost, my Lady? The emperor promised you to search the city And find your beggar.

TURANDOT

Capo’s promises Are like himself—all lies. Nay, I must answer This false Khan’s riddle, or be doomed to-morrow. But how?—“His true-born name, his father’s fame—” Where shall I find the clue? Ah, heartless fate And stony hearted men!

THE VOICE OF PUNCHINELLO

[_Sings outside to the instruments_]

O Lady, Lady, lift up your moan No more, no more ’gainst hearts of stone, But let in your blithe playfellow!

TURANDOT

[_Wildly_]

Go! Stop them!

THE VOICE OF PUNCHINELLO

For a stubborn will Makes Love to be ill, But a merry heart makes him well, O! And a merry heart—

ZELIMA

[_Opening the door_]

Stop
Your noises!

PUNCHINELLO

[_Outside_]

—O, a merry heart
Never yet kept fond lovers apart,
Nor tweaked the nose of their Punchinello.

ZELIMA

Cease! Her royal highness
orders—

PUNCHINELLO, SCARAMOUCHE AND PANTALOON

[_Pushing past Zelima, enter the room bearing bright
Chinese lanterns, and singing in chorus_]

A merry heart, O, a merry heart Never yet kept fond lovers apart!

[_Joined by Harlequin, they pause together before
Turandot and, pointing simultaneously their left
toes, strike sharply their instruments with a
sweeping bow_]

TURANDOT

What fresh presumption of your brazen lord Is this?

PUNCHINELLO

This is our homage, Lady, Lady!

[_Thrumming their instruments again, they accompany a dance of Harlequin, who by his pantomime indicates to Turandot the bowl of gold fishes, while Punchinello lilts shrilly_:]

And thus our Harlequin: He’s showing How all our hearts be overflowing With little, lovely, golden wishes For your delight—as fine as fishes!

TURANDOT

Go—go!

[_Harlequin draws back_]

Why have you come?

PUNCHINELLO

To celebrate
Our lord Sir Capo’s great discovery.

PANTALOON

[_Mysteriously_]

He’s found.

TURANDOT

Who’s found?

SCARAMOUCHE

[_Darkly_]

By the yawn of Jonah’s whale, We have disbellied him from Pekin’s maw And blackest hollowness.

PUNCHINELLO

He’s trapped, my Lady!

TURANDOT

[_Chafing_]

Will you tell _who_?

PUNCHINELLO

[_In a loud whisper_]

The beggar.

SCARAMOUCHE AND PANTALOON

[_Sepulchrally_]

Hush!

TURANDOT

[_Faintly_]

A beggar!

SCARAMOUCHE

[_Speaks at her ear_]

The louse-gray mongrel with the chalkish beard— We’ve got him kennelled, ha!

TURANDOT

An _old_ man?

PANTALOON

[_Nodding_]

Pickled!

TURANDOT

Alas! What are these tidings? Have you searched Only to find an old poor man?

CAPO.

[_Who has entered behind them_]

They found Your beggar’s gaffer, Lady.—Barak he Is called, and lies imprisoned now below, Where I will learn from him about your lover.

TURANDOT

[_Bitterly_]

So _you_ come too. Have you, then, come to break Once more the vow you made?

CAPO.

[_Quietly_]

A single day, Lady, you swore me faith and loyalty; Yet in one little hour you cast away Your faith, to call me traitor.

TURANDOT

Had I cause,
Or no?

CAPO.

Is there good cause to break an oath?

TURANDOT

You broke your own. You vowed to achieve for me Joy—joy, and perfect marriage with my love.— Am I, then, joyful? Am I with my love?

CAPO.

A single day; a single day, I said!

TURANDOT

So by to-morrow I must wed this Khan, This nameless prince—unless I guess his name.

CAPO.

Why not, then, guess it?

TURANDOT

[_Glancing quickly_]

How?

CAPO.

[_Indulgently_]

Will you renew
Your broken allegiance?

TURANDOT

I am desperate. I will do anything to free myself.— What shall I do?

CAPO.

First swear me faith again.

TURANDOT

I swear it. Now tell!

CAPO.

How easily ladies swear
When they are in love!—Prime-Minister, retire!

[_The four Maskers, bowing, withdraw to the
background, where they are entertained by Zelima,
whom they instruct to play upon their instruments
with a low strumming_]

In the general practice of my specialties, Lady, I often recommend for love A sleeping-charm—like this.

[_Capo takes from his sleeve a small vial and hands it
to Turandot_]

TURANDOT

What should I do
With this?

CAPO.

This, if ’tis poured upon the sleeping lips Of man by a maid, or maiden by a man, Will make the sleeper murmur in his dream Whatever secret thing his soul conceals When it is asked of him.

TURANDOT

[_After a pause, gives a sudden cry of joy_]

Ah, now I see!— But how can I find access to this Khan When he is sleeping?

CAPO.

I am emperor, And by my new régime, at midnight, all The guards retire, and in the men’s hall, men May pass unnoticed by the others.

TURANDOT

[_Searchingly_]

Men?

CAPO.

[_Calls, beckoning_]

Here, Harlequin!—I pray you, princess, stand Back to back with this boy.

[_Turandot looks puzzled, and then turns and stands
back to back with Harlequin. Capo measures their
heights with his flattened hand. They separate and
Capo indicates Harlequin_]

A hair’s breadth higher.

[_With a questioning glance at Turandot_]

A hair’s breadth! Will you risk it—by a hair?

TURANDOT

[_Growing suddenly radiant_]

O wonderful!—At midnight, did you say?

CAPO.

[_Smiling_]

_Now_ are we friends—and may I kiss your hand?

TURANDOT

[_Ardently_]

No, I will kiss yours!

[_She seizes Capo’s hand and kisses it. He laughs
softly_]

_Curtain_

SCENE II: _A bedchamber, mysteriously lighted. The room is vast and
magnificent. In the centre, by a divan couch, Calaf is seated in deep
brooding._

CALAF

If she should guess!—If she should fail to guess! If she should fail to guess!—If she should guess! O endless, awful night, you are like thought— Hollow, unanswering and full of echoes! And like my heart you, too, are sleepless, yearning With dim and palpitating mystery. If she should guess?—Then would I doubly lose My love—my life. If she should fail to guess? Then how might I dare hold her to my bond And wed against her will?—If she should guess— If she should fail—Ah, God! The night gives back Only my emptiness, and moment builds On moment mountains of hell, and here I sit Alone.

[_Rising, he reaches his arms with a low cry_]

Alone!

CAPO.

[_Entering in the dimness_]

There is no loneliness
Where thoughts are merry.

CALAF

[_Staring at him for a moment_]

Merry!—Sire, I have
Forgot the meaning of that word.

CAPO.

Recall it,
Then, quickly, for I bring you pleasant news.

CALAF

[_Eagerly_]

From her? from _her_, O Sire?

CAPO.

From Turandot.
The lady loves you.

CALAF

Loves me! You are mad,
Or jesting.

CAPO.

To the sober-serious Jesting’s a sort of madness.—But no matter. The lady loves you none the less.

CALAF

How is it
Possible?

CAPO.

You’ve forgot my specialty
So soon?—or am I skilled in guessing riddles?

CALAF

I should have failed without you.

CAPO.

Will you try me
Again?

CALAF

But how—

CAPO.

Come hither in more light.

[_Calaf moves out of the deeper shadow. Capo tips
Calaf’s face upwards, examining it_]

What color are your eyes?

CALAF

I do not know.

CAPO.

[_Nods approvingly_]

Sapphire.—That might describe them, with some license Of love and rhetoric.

CALAF

What have my eyes
To do with guessing riddles?

CAPO.

Much to do! They have to close and go to sleep, before The guessing. Softly now: lie down and close them Until to-morrow.

CALAF

Would I might!

CAPO.

Then do so! For on to-morrow morn, I promise you Delight—and perfect marriage with your love.

CALAF

O friend, I am too weary to refuse. I will lie down and dream it is to-morrow.

[_He lies on the couch. A far chiming is heard_]

What bell is sounding?

CAPO.

Midnight.—Merry dreams!

[_Capo steals out. Calaf closes his eyes and is still.
The room is silent and dim. After a few moments, out
of the darkness there emerges, scarlet and pied, the
Figure of Harlequin, who tiptoes toward the couch.
At a sigh from Calaf, the Figure starts back,
returning more reticently. Again Calaf murmurs in
his sleep_:]

CALAF

Turandot! Lady beloved!

[_Standing in a shaft of vague light, the Figure of
Harlequin lifts cautiously a vial and, unstopping
it, dances softly three times around the divan; then
pauses close to Calaf, who murmurs once more_]

Princess! Love.

THE FIGURE OF HARLEQUIN

[_Chants in a low voice_]

Reveal, O dreamer: What is he, His true-born name, His father’s fame, Who, desperate for love of me, Assumed from far Beloochistan The false name—Keedur, Khan!

[_Bending above the dreaming form of Calaf, the Figure
sprinkles from the vial upon his lips; then draws
back and listens_]

CALAF

[_Murmurs louder in his sleep_]

Be gracious unto me: Calaf, the son Of Timur, King of Astrakhan!

THE FIGURE OF HARLEQUIN

[_Laughing silverly_]

Aha! Calaf! Calaf, the son of Timur, King Of Astrakhan!

CALAF

[_Starting up on the divan_]

Who calls me?

THE FIGURE

[_Lifting a mandolin strung from the shoulder, strikes
a swift chord and bounds away toward the door_]

Ahaha!

CALAF

[_Leaping to the floor, and following_]

What are you? Stop!

[_The Figure pauses_]

Come from your shadow!

[_The Figure takes a timid step forward, and stops_]

You! You, the dumb player, servant of our lord The emperor! What brings you here?

THE FIGURE

Aha!
Reveal, O Lady: What is he
His true-born name,
His father’s fame—

CALAF

How’s that? Can the dumb speak?

THE FIGURE

Calaf, the son
Of Timur—hail!

CALAF

By heaven, a spy!

[_He springs toward the door. The Figure tries to pass
him but, thwarted, leaps back_]

Not yet! You shall not go till I have plucked the face Out of that mask.

[_At the door he turns the key and takes it_]

The door is locked. Reveal
Yourself!

[_The Figure draws away. He strides toward it. It
escapes_]

Light footed imp! Now by my soul, You shall not live to blab beyond these walls The secret you have stolen from my sleep.

[_He starts again toward the Figure. It dances away
from him, striking the strings of its mandolin.
Round the great couch and about the shadowy room he
pursues it, ever eluding him. Suddenly he pauses,
and stares_]

Stay! Am I, then, asleep? Are you indeed Some imp of dreamland, sent to plague my soul With fever shuttle-dances, a pied phantom Painting the dark, and tinkling with your timbrel These rafters of my riddle-tortured brain?— If she should guess—If she should fail to guess!— O Night, it is your Echo, mocking me: ’Tis but a Question, and beneath that mask There are no lips to answer!

[_Desperately, he throws himself down by the couch,
burying his face against it. After a moment, the
Figure approaches, cautious, surveys his prone form
closely, bends as if to snatch at his robe, but
draws back and stands hesitant; then with a gesture
half frightened removes its mask, and speaks low_]

THE FIGURE

Calaf, son
Of Timur—grace! Give me the key!

[_Turning, Calaf slowly staggers to his feet, gazing
with awe on the face of Turandot_]

CALAF

O Dream! Dream of my love transmuted to a boy— O little dream in motley, speak once more!

TURANDOT

The key! Unlock the door, and let me forth.

CALAF

My lady—and her voice! Yet, shining boy, Before my soul loses belief in you, Still let me wonder, looking on your image, And worship at your shrine—Saint Harlequin!

[_He kneels before her_]

TURANDOT

I do not ask for worship—but a key.

CALAF

The key you ask for locks the gate of heaven And we are shut within. Love builds him bars To stablish heaven where lovers are locked in.

TURANDOT

Lovers? You dare much.

CALAF

[_Rising_]

He dared more, to say
You love me, and I dared believe.

TURANDOT

[_Amazed_]

Who dared
To say it?

CALAF

He who shuttles through our lives, Unriddling and riddling, like a restless loom— The motley emperor.

TURANDOT

Capocomico!
He is a jester, Sir.

CALAF

Did he, then, jest To furnish you that vial in your hand And charm the fateful secret from my lips Into your power? Ah, if you do not love me, Why have you stolen here now to drag my name From dreams—Calaf, your father’s enemy, Doomed unto death?

TURANDOT

[_Struggling with herself_]

Nay, ask not.

CALAF

Turandot, Princess of Pekin, stoops not to betray Her enemy, nor steal a riddle’s answer Thiefwise by night, to slay her enemy. The thought is slander. No!—Therefore you love me: So you have robbed—to save me.

TURANDOT

Turn your eyes
Away!

CALAF

Is it not so, Lady beloved?

TURANDOT

Oh, ask not with your eyes!—Nor with your thoughts Ask not why this bold Harlequin is here Thiefwise by night, to steal your secret name; But let me go!

CALAF

[_Holding out the key, gazes at her_]

Will you, then, go?

TURANDOT

[_Reaches for it, but pauses and turns back her hand,
screening her face_]

Your eyes! They blind the space between. I cannot grope The key I reach for.

CALAF

Will you go?

TURANDOT

The air Is dim, but bright with pathways to your face, And where they lead I falter, like a moth To where the lamp shines.

CALAF

[_In hushed triumph_]

You will stay!

TURANDOT

O dark! What light and darkness and the murmur of waters Lure me toward you?

CALAF

Night and yearning stars And rush of winds blend us, beloved. Listen! Look in my eyes, O love!—Lean to my lips!

TURANDOT

[_Closing her eyes_]

I lean: Let me not fall!

CALAF

Thus will I save you!

[_Reaching his arms passionately, he kisses her_]

TURANDOT

[_Starting back, with a cry_]

Ah me! I am betrayed.

CALAF

By Buddha, I swear—

TURANDOT

Destroyed. O shame of all my vows forsworn, Where have I fallen?

CALAF

On your lover’s heart.
Look, it is I.

TURANDOT

Who’s there?

CALAF

Calaf, your prince.

TURANDOT

Calaf!—Now shame put acid on my lips And sere them of your kiss! A prince hath touched me! O you poor bloody heads on Pekin’s wall, Have you, then, died for this?—and Turandot Shamed by a prince at last!

CALAF

Lady, I beg—

TURANDOT

Not that!—Ah, do not stab me with that word, And make me bleed for one who _begs_.—The key, Give me the key!

CALAF

Mistress, your words go by me
Like leaves blown wildly. I cannot gather them.

TURANDOT

Sir prince, I blow them wildly, and I care not Whither they whirl.

CALAF

Love changes blood to wine. The kiss of our communion hath turned wine To madden you.

TURANDOT

The key!

CALAF

[_Giving her the key_]

Take it, my lady, So you may know your freedom and my love, And me your lover, Calaf.

TURANDOT

Calaf, not My lover.—Calaf, or Keedur, Khan, you are Mine enemy in my power.—Until to-morrow, Good-night!

[_She hastens toward the door. Grasping her arm, his
eyes glow passionately_]

CALAF

You came here to betray me?—Speak!

TURANDOT

I came to win your secret, and to shame you To-morrow at the trial. Let me pass.

CALAF

No! We are in each other’s power. Let doom Strike on us both together.

[_Inexorably he compels her. She sinks on the couch_]

TURANDOT

In your power!
What, I? You would not dare—

CALAF

Who would not dare? Infinite ages climbed to this little moment; Infinite ages shall sink after it. I stand here on its peak to make it mine.— Open the door!

TURANDOT

[_Trembling_]

_Open_ it?—What will you do?

CALAF

Now shall the rafters of your palace ring With “Turandot, the Harlequin, Calaf’s lover Stolen to his arms beside his midnight couch!”

TURANDOT

[_Shrinking from his gesture_]

Touch me not!

CALAF

[_Seizing her_]

Wine! Your kiss turns in my blood To wine of fire poured foaming, and the flames Burn outward toward your lips.

TURANDOT

Kiss not again!
Be merciful, and hear me!

CALAF

Mercy cries
To God, not to our enemy.—Your lips!

TURANDOT

[_With fearful appeal_]

My lover, then!

CALAF

[_Drawing back amazed_]

Your lover!

TURANDOT

Yea—my love!
Your eyes—_another_ blazes in your eyes.

CALAF

Another! Who?

TURANDOT

The noblest in this world: I love him. I have sworn it. Yet—O Yet— My flesh cries out to yours, my soul to yours, My lips, my lips to yours.

CALAF

[_Clasping her_]

Ha, mine at last!

TURANDOT

[_Repulsing him_]

Clasp me not, lest I cling to you.—No more! I _will_ not. I am his. No kiss of yours Can quench his burning image. Let me go! But ah, the spell and rapture of your arms— Reach them where yearning lovers starve in hell, And bless them.—Stop! My body and soul are _his_. I hate you—I hate you—hate you!

[_She rushes into the dark. Calaf reaches—groping—with
a wild cry._]

_Curtain_

ACT FOURTH

_The scene is the same as the second act, scene second, except that the back of the great hall of the emperor’s Divan is now hidden by a decorated curtain. The assembly is gathered as before: Capocomico, Turandot and Altoum seated on their larger and lesser thrones._

_Before them, Harlequin, Scaramouche, Punchinello and Pantaloon are performing a dance._

_At its conclusion Capocomico rises, and addresses the Maskers._

CAPOCOMICO

Enough! Go, bring the nameless prince before us.

[_Dismissing them with a gesture, he turns toward
Altoum_]

Altoum,—our greater emperor, the Sun, Sits higher even than our august selves, And soon shall set his throne at highest noon. Then must I abdicate my one day’s reign, First having sealed your daughter’s perfect marriage, Ending in joy her doleful year and a day. Therefore, in those brief minutes which are left me To consummate these little things, I pray you Deign of your courtesy to take my seat And let me do the honors.

ALTOUM

[_Rising from his lesser place_]

As you will!
Till noon, my thanks for hospitality.

CAPO.

Oh, not at all!

[_Pointing to his seat_]

Pray, make yourself at home.

[_As they pass each other to change places, Altoum
speaks to Capo in lower voice_]

Have you performed your task, and saved your head?

CAPO.

My head was never more attached to me.

TURANDOT

[_Bending from her throne_]

A word, my liege?

CAPO.

Nay, but a hundred, lady!

[_He goes to her side. She speaks to him low_]

TURANDOT

Have you kept faith with me? Ah—is he found— My heart’s desire?

CAPO.

Your heart’s desire is found,
And waits for you.

TURANDOT

[_Excitedly_]

Where is he?

CAPO.

Lo, he comes!

[_Pointing toward the entrance, he goes to the lesser
throne. With music of their stringed instruments,
the four Maskers usher in Calaf, haggard and
dishevelled. Turandot starts, with a cry and look of
bewilderment at Capo. Capo addresses Altoum and the
Divan_]

Your Majesty and lords, the nameless prince Awaits to learn his name from Turandot.

CALAF

[_Stepping forward fiercely_]

He waits not, for his name has been betrayed To her—and you, false jester, have betrayed it.

ALTOUM

[_Amid commotion_]

What’s that?

CALAF

My liege, why should I play the fool In a Masker’s comedy? Death holds less scorn Than being duped to dance in a puppet-show To tinkling mandolins.

ALTOUM

Speak out your grievance!

CALAF

I stand here in your power, and his.—At midnight, By secret sprinkling of a sleeping-charm, This masker sent to rob my dreaming lips Of the answer to my riddle—

ALTOUM

Gods! to rob?
Your proofs of this!

CALAF

The proofs stand up in me. I who did deem it heaven to love your daughter Have proved it hell. Your daughter knows my secret, And all the ravage hidden in my name, Yet am I nothing, my damnation—nothing To her, who loves another.

ALTOUM

[_Startled_]

What—other? Who?

CALAF

“The noblest in the world.”—O noble world, There aspiration earns its crown of scorn, And baseness wins nobility! In such, I’d liever be a beggar. But enough! My fate indeed is nothing, and my name— My name is—

TURANDOT

Stop! your riddle goes unanswered. Go you in peace—and friendship. You, Sir Capo, Who keep your faith so strangely, set before me The heart of my desire.

CAPO.

He stands before you.

TURANDOT

Trick me not also. Keep your promise still. This man is Calaf, Son of Timur, not My heart’s desire.

ALTOUM

[_Rising, wrathful_]

How! Calaf, Son of Timur!

CALAF

Not drowned my liege, in water—but in grief.

ALTOUM

My darkest enemy.—So, Capo, this Is he whom you would wed within my house To my own daughter—Prince of Astrakhan! Now by my star, the doom upon his head Shall fall on yours—and doubly. I, it seems, I, too, am duped!

TURANDOT

[_Brokenly_]

He has betrayed us all.

CAPO.

A single day is short to make all snug. The Lord took six.

ALTOUM

A single day is all My word allowed. I see! You bungled, fool, Striving to save your neck, but now your time Hangs at the stroke, and you have failed me. Doom Falls on you and your fellows!

THE MASKERS

[_Trying unsuccessfully to salaam_]

Mercy, Sire!

CAPO.

[_Behind his hand chiding them_]

Where are your manners, my Prime-minister? Venetian bows are still the mode in court, Whilst we are emperor.

[_Giving a sign to Harlequin, who runs out, he turns
to Altoum_]

O Sire—elect! Before the ominous gong sounds in mine ears That ushers me unto oblivious rags To stroll the world again, let me rejoice That you have turned your wrath from this brave youth Upon _my_ humble head.—Congratulations! And with exchange of courtesies, I pray you Felicitate me and these fellow-players On the happy curtain of our comedy.

[_At his gesture, Punchinello and Pantaloon run to the
curtain at back_]

ALTOUM

Say rather—tragedy.

CAPO.

We stand corrected: Or say—romance, where true love laughs through tears: Name it Romance, and grant us your applause.

[_Punchinello and Pantaloon draw the curtain,
revealing an oriental altar, with idol, beside which
stand two priests_]

ALTOUM

What’s there?

CAPO.

The altar for our ceremony:
The Wedding of the Princess and the Beggar.

[_Reënter Harlequin, bringing in Barak, who rushes to
Calaf and embraces him_]

BARAK

My prince!

CALAF

[_Overwhelmed_]

Barak—old friend!

TURANDOT

[_To Zelima_]

Look, look, ’tis he!
My beggar’s gaffer.

ALTOUM

[_Before whom Harlequin presents three tokens_]

What are these?

CAPO.

Our trophies:
The secret of your daughter’s malady—

[_Leading Calaf bewildered before Turandot_]

Lady, receive them with your heart’s desire: A ring, a rose, a beggar’s wallet.

TURANDOT

You—
Are _you_ my beggar?

CALAF

[_Taking from Barak his old cloak_]

I am he who won In Astrakhan—this rose, at Pekin gate— This ring, and in this ragged beggar’s cloak You once did smile upon, I now depart.

TURANDOT

Stay, love—_You_ are my noblest in the world!

[_Calaf turns in wonder and kneels to her. She bends
and embraces him. A great gong resounds_]

CAPO.

[_Presenting his crown to Altoum_]

My liege, I abdicate. And you applaud?

ALTOUM

Yea, marvel, Capo. Kingdoms will I give To these your fellows.

THE MASKERS

[_Bowing Venetian_]

Hail!

ALTOUM

And to yourself yourself—
Whate’er you ask for.

CAPO.

Then, my liege and lady,
I beg—this withered rose.

CALAF

[_Giving it to him_]

Only a flower?

CAPO.

Lovers, that lives beyond its little hour In memory.—Adieu!—My players, rule Your kingdoms still in masks.—Now for the world!

[_Tossing his gorgeous emperor’s cloak to Harlequin,
he springs away in his tattered motley_]

TURANDOT

[_Calls after him_]

What seek you there?

CAPO.

[_Kissing to her and Calaf the withered rose_]

_More_ roses and romance!

_Curtain_

END OF PLAY