Turandot, Princess of China A Chinoiserie in Three Acts
By Karl Vollmöller, Carlo Gozzi and Jethro Bithell
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Turandot, Princess of China A Chinoiserie in Three Acts - Karl Vollmöller
Project Gutenberg's Turandot, Princess of China, by Karl Gustav Vollmöller
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Title: Turandot, Princess of China
A Chinoiserie in Three Acts
Author: Karl Gustav Vollmöller
Translator: Jethro Bithell
Release Date: September 30, 2008 [EBook #26730]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TURANDOT, PRINCESS OF CHINA ***
Produced by Chuck Greif
PLAYS OF TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW
TURANDOT
PRINCESS OF CHINA
A CHINOISERIE IN THREE ACTS
BY
KARL VOLLMOELLER
AUTHORIZED ENGLISH VERSION,
BY
JETHRO BITHELL
LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN
ADELPHI TERRACE
First Edition, January, 1913
(All rights reserved.)
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
SCENE: Pekin.—All the acting characters wear Chinese costume, except Adelma and Calaf, who are in Tartar dress.
Cast of the play as produced at the St. James's Theatre, London, on January 18, 1913, under the management of Sir George Alexander.
The action takes place outside the gates of Pekin, and inside the Emperor's Palace.
to
my friend that great artist
FERRUCCIO BUSONI
NOTE
The very affecting history of the cruel Princess Turandot and the handsome Prince Calaf may be read in those Persian tales which are known by the name of The Thousand and One Nights.
Twice already has the story gone over the boards: in 1762 in Venice as Turandotte,
one of the fiabe of Count Carlo Gozzi; in 1804 in Weimar, as Friedrich Schiller's Turandot.
Both versions lived their passing hour, and died to the stage.
The present dramatisation of the ancient fable—a modest attempt to cast good metal anew—closely follows the Italian of the sardonic nobleman whose bones have been mouldering by the blue lagoons for over a hundred years.
Karl Vollmoeller.
THE FIRST ACT
SCENE I
One of the city gates of Pekin. Over the gate, planted on iron poles, a row of severed heads with shaven crowns and Turkish tufts.
TIME: Shortly after sunrise. When the curtain rises the gate is closed. From within the roll of drums and military commands.
BRIGELLA.
(
Behind the scenes.
) Halt! Present arms!
TRUFFALDINO.
(
Behind the scenes.
) Halt! Slope swords!
Open the gate! At ease! Quick march!
(
The gate is thrown open.
TRUFFALDINO
,
leading the eunuchs
;
then, between
PANTALONE
and
TARTAGLIA
,
the
PRINCE OF
SAMARKAND
;
behind them, at the head
of his pages,
BRIGELLA
.
The whole
procession halts in front of the gate,
they all draw up in one line, and gaze
upwards at the bloody heads.
)
PANTALONE.
(
Stepping in front of the footlights.
)
My name is Pantalone, and I am a native of Venice. At
the moment I am the Prime Minister of the
Chinese Empire. Eh, what d'ye say? What
I'
m
doing here in Pekin? H'm. (
Puts his hand
in front of his mouth.
) Venice got too hot for
me. An ind-indelicate affair. My wife of
course, you guess my meaning. (
To the
PRINCE
.)
This, your Royal Highness, is the place you
have heard so much of. Have a good look at
it,
please
. Make yourself
quite
at home. Yes,
quite right, up there,
please
! (
To
TARTAGLIA
.)
I say, my dear Lord Chancellor. Be so good as
to show his Royal Highness the elevated position
he will occupy in the near future. You have the
information, I presume.
(
TARTAGLIA
turns towards the
PRINCE
,
PANTALONE
pulls his sleeve
.)
Don't forget, my dear Lord Chancellor.
TARTAGLIA.
(
Stepping in front of the footlights.
) My name
is Tat-Tra-Tartaglia (
stammers
). From Naples.
My mother always maintained that she was the
daughter of a Spanish grandee, but I fear she
was a fisherman's daughter from Po-Po-Pozzuoli.
My father, on the other hand (
stops short and
looks round
)——
(
PANTALONE
makes signs to him
.)
PANTALONE.
Better not.
TARTAGLIA.
Better not! That old scarecrow there makes
out that nobody ever knew who my father was.
He is a... li-li-liar. Excuse me, one moment,
ladies and gentlemen. (
To the
Prince
.) That
head up there on the right, which I beg your
Royal Highness graciously to observe, is the head
of the valiant Prince of Hyrcania. A valiant
prince, a sweet prince. But silly, silly. There's
quite a nice open space next to him for you, a
fine, sunny situation with a pleasant prospect.
How would that do, eh? Company to your liking?
All of 'em in the Almanach de Gotha.
PANTALONE.
(
To
BRIGELLA.) Send the executioner up with
the pole. We'll let this charming young Prince
select his own point of vantage.
BRIGELLA.
(
To the headsman.
) What are you hanging
about here for, you hangman, you? Up on the
wall with you, by Hikey Mo! Up on the wall or
I'll wallop you.
PANTALONE.
Halt! 'Sh! Don't forget!
BRIGELLA.
(
Stepping in front of the footlights.
) I'm
Brigella, begging your pardon. One of the old
honest family of the Brigellas. As you can hear
by the way I talk, I was born in Ferrara. There
are lying rogues, drat