deity.
Two priests attending._)

Hither call our daughter;
Obedience to the law shall now be taught her.
Set open all the doors! Lo, where she comes.

(_A slow march is heard._ TRUFFALDIN _and slaves enter, in mourning
garments, with weepers of crape attached to their pigtails._ _Female
slaves in black veils: then_ TURANDOT, ADELMA, _and_ SKIRINA, _all
demonstrating extreme dejection_. TURANDOT _ascends her throne
with the same ceremonies at in Act II._)

PANT.

Is this a wedding march, with muffled drums?
It sounds more like a dead march, dull and dreary--
The one in "Saul," or Verdi's _Miserere_.
Her sulky Highness looks as black as thunder
At having thus in public to knock under.

TUR. (_to_ KALAF).

This sad procession, Prince _Incognito_
Profound humiliation is to show.
Your arrogance upon my shame will gloat,--
Your eyes on your defeated slave will doat.
I see the altar--Fo-hi's grand official
Prepared to bind the victim sacrificial.
My glory's dead--disgraced is Turandot!
Condemned to wear the chain of Hymen's knot.

KAL.

Oh, couldst thou know how deeply I revere
Thy maiden dignity, not thus severe
Thoud'st show thyself, nor my fond love resent.
As slave to thee my whole life shall be spent;
But deign one gracious sign to give, that thou
In time, responsive tenderness mayst know.

ALT.

Prince, condescend no more. Commence the rite!

TUR.

One moment more. (_Sarcastically_.) I am not ready, quite.

(_Rises and addresses_ KALAF)--

I raised your hopes, that they might deeper fall.
Prince Kalaf, Son of Timur, quit this hall
And China's realm. Go, seek another bride.
In vain my penetration you defied;
No secret's hidden from the Chinese Sphinx.

SKIR. (_aside_).

She never naps--not e'en for forty winks!

KAL.

Ah, woe is me!

ALT.

Dear me, what is the matter?
I cannot hear thro' all this general chatter.

PANT, (_aside_).

I shan't attempt just now to make him hear;
I'm dazed myself, and his head's _never_ clear.

TART.

W-what a c-ca-cat-as-ass-astrophe! _Corpo di Bacco!_
H-he m-must r-re-return--_colle pive nel sacco_.

KAL.

My overloving heart has caused my woe,
I gave up all, to please my lovely foe.
If yesterday I purposely had failed
To win the day, or from the contest quailed,
My soul had now found rest. Ah, why
Altoum, wert thou too merciful? To die
To-day, if conquered, should have been my meed--
Great Emperor, thus shouldst thou