uel 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 Spa