Chapter 7

_The great hall of the imperial Divan: two high doors on each side, on the right to_ TURANDOT'S _harem, on the left to the_ EMPEROR'S _chambers_.

TRUFFALDINO, EUNUCHS.

TRUFFALDINO.

Halt! First scrubbing company, at ease, march. Stack muskets. Attention! Present besoms. Sweep. Sweep like the devil. Roll up, spread, smooth.

(_Eunuchs roll up the carpets._)

There's nothing I like better than watching other people work. Quite so. This here is the Great Throne. His Majesty the Emperor of China sits on that.

(_Two eunuchs carry the throne past._)

We call it the Great Throne because it's a big 'un. And this is the Little Throne. Quite so, the Little Throne.

(_Two eunuchs carry_ TURANDOT 's _throne to its place_.)

The Princess's, don't you know. We call this the Little Throne because it's a small 'un. Quite so. And _these_ are the eight cushions of the learned doctors.

(_Eight slaves carry cushions past._)

The sublime Divan will assemble immediately, and then they'll all sit on 'em--the Emperor on the Great Throne, the Princess on the Little Throne, and the Doctors on the eight cushions.

(BRIGELLA _enters from the right_.)

BRIGELLA.

I've always got the blues in Pekin. Not half! Here's the Emperor just gone and issued a fresh Court ceremonial again, and I can't get it into my noddle. I keep on practising. I can't do anything without practising. Oh, all right, you're a laughing at me. What are you laughing about?

TRUFFALDINO.

Business is good, that's what I'm laughing for. My business and my adored Princess's. Trade's flourishing, praised be the Lord! Huge turnover, commissions promptly executed. Greatest stock of sheep's heads in the world. The Divan will assemble immediately. There's another prince arrived, with his head itching.... _Ut veniant omnes_--let them all come.

BRIGELLA.

No, it's getting a bit too hot, all our young sparks going off like match-heads. Strike me dead, a man _can_ talk without his head--he can talk with his belly if he's a ventriloquist--but he can't keep his mouth shut when he's lost his head. What _are_ you a-laughin' at? It's no joke, not half! It's not three hours since the last was polished off, and you can find it in your heart to laugh!

TRUFFALDINO.

I have good reason to laugh. Every time my sweet adored Princess has netted one of these sheepish little princes with her riddles she's in such an excellent temper she's sure to present me with a charming token of her Imperial favour. But you have no taste for such charms.

BRIGELLA.

I've more than you, anyhow! I can't come out with such high-flying language about your Princess. The hysterical water-wagtail. What right has she to turn her nose up at marriage? Considering she knows nothing about it. Perhaps she might like it. You never can tell.

TRUFFALDINO.

Marriage! Oh, fie!

BRIGELLA.

Look here, I can't stand hearing a carved turkey like you cackling rot about marriage. Think of your own mamma. If she hadn't got married, where would you be?

TRUFFALDINO.

That's a lie. My mamma never got married at all, and I'm here just the same. You see me, don't you?

BRIGELLA.

True; I ought to have seen at the first glance that you were a bastard.

TRUFFALDINO.

I am not a bastard. I am a child of love. All geniuses are children of love.

BRIGELLA.

But all children of love are not geniuses. You, for instance.

TRUFFALDINO.

I? I have risen in the world. I am Chief-- Chief--Chief--Administrator of the Harem. You understand. (Music is heard.) Anyhow, you go to the devil now and pay your customary assiduous attention to your pages. His Sublime Majesty the Emperor approaches....