Turandot, Princess of China Part 17

BARAK.

Even to my wife, be sure.

And yet my heart forebodes much evil hap.

SCENE III

PANTALONE, TARTAGLIA, BRIGELLA, SOLDIERS.

_The foregoing._

PANTALONE.

Here he is, by the Lord Harry, here he is!

TARTAGLIA.

Who is this man, your Royal Highness?

PANTALONE.

Where the d.i.c.kens have you been to, my dearest Prince? What sort of people are you honouring with your intercourse, my dearest Prince?

BARAK (_aside_).

Great heavens, what threatens now?

CALAF.

This is some stranger, Whom here I met and questioned of the way.

TARTAGLIA.

By your leave, my dearest Royal Highness, I had not previously noticed that there was any screw loose under your turban. Your conduct so far had led me, I trust not misled me, to believe that your head was screwed on quite safe.

But what the deuce are you up to now, if you will allow me to say so?

PANTALONE.

'Sh! 'Sh! It's no use crying over spilt milk.

Heaven knows, my dear Prince, you little suspect what hot water you've got into, and if we hadn't kept a sharp eye on you, you'd be in a fine pickle at this moment. (_To_ BARAK.) Your presence here, Mr. Nanny-goat, is no longer desired! As for you, my dearest Royal Highness, will you have the goodness to withdraw to your private apartments? Brigella, you will forthwith call two thousand men of the guards to arms, and with your corps of pages sentinel the entrance to his suite, taking care that no one gains admission. Our most Sublime Majesty, the Emperor, is so much in love with the Prince that he is all the time in a perfect state lest anything should happen to him. If he is not his son-in-law by to-morrow morning, Heaven knows the old gentleman will succ.u.mb to this violent pa.s.sion. (_To_ CALAF.) And let me tell you, you've been making a fool of yourself. (_Whispering to him._) For Heaven's sake, don't let your name get between your teeth! But if by any chance you would care to whisper it to a venerable, discreet old man, I can a.s.sure you it would be in good keeping. What do you say?

CALAF.

You serve your Emperor ill, old gentleman!

PANTALONE.

Oh, bravo! Oh, bravo! Now then, Mr.

Brigella, off you go!

BRIGELLA.

You stop your parleying first. I'll see to my duty in due course.

TARTAGLIA.

I should advise you to. Off you go, or off goes your head.

BRIGELLA.

My head's hard enough to stand _your_ pecking, old c.o.c.k.

TARTAGLIA.

(_Whispering to_ CALAF.) I'm simply bursting with curiosity to know your dear, delightful name.

If you would only have the kindness to confide it to me!

CALAF.

Enough! Enough! To-morrow you shall hear it.

TARTAGLIA.

Excellent. By George!

PANTALONE.

Your Royal Highness, I take my leave! (_To_ BARAK.) And you, my worthy Mr. Nanny-goat, you will do well to depart this place and smoke your pipe on the market square instead of standing about here. I urgently recommend you to mind your own business. I believe that would do you a lot more good.

(_Exit._)