y seen the
new arrival?

TARTAGLIA.

I have, your Majesty. We have given him
the suite reserved for foreign princes. He has
a remarkably good presence, a nice face, charming
manners, and a good accent. I never saw a nicer
prince in all my life. I am positively in love
with him, and my heart goes pit-a-pat when I
think that he is at this moment on his way to
have his head chopped off, just like a silly sheep;
such a handsome prince, such a charming prince,
such a boy of a prince....

ALTOUM.

O sorrow!

(_To_ PANTALONE.) Are the sacrifices made
By which we send up prayers to Providence
To teach this most unhappy man to solve
Our cruel daughter's riddles? Though I scarce
Can hope....

PANTALONE.

As far as the sacrifices are concerned, Heaven
knows, your Majesty may be quite easy on that
point. There has been no economy with regard
to the sacrifices, your Majesty. I have ordered
sacrifices to be made to High Heaven of one
hundred dogs, sacrifice of one hundred horses to
the Sun, and of one hundred cats to the Moon.
(_Aside._) I, for my own part, Heaven knows,
expect nothing from this Imperial butchery except
sausages and meat-pies.

TARTAGLIA.

(_Aside._) It would have been far better to
slaughter that cat of a Princess. Then everything
would be in order. That would be the best
way to end all this spitting and scratching.

ALTOUM.

Let the new-comer be conducted hither!

(_Exit one of the_ DOCTORS.)

I will endeavour to dissuade him. You,
My reverend doctors, help in this, and you,
My faithful ministers and counsellors,
If, haply, grief should paralyse my tongue.

PANTALONE.

We've done our best in that direction often
enough already, your Majesty, and we're getting
about sick of it, Heaven knows. We shall talk
at him till our throats are sore, and then he'll
go and get his windpipe cut like a turkey.

TARTAGLIA.

Listen here, Pantalone. If my observations can
be relied on, this young Prince has gifts of the
very highest order, and a degree of ingenuity
which is positively penetrating. I do not quite
give up all hope.

PANTALONE.

Rot, my dear fellow, rot! You think he's going,
to guess that snake's riddles. Rot! Stuff and
nonsense! Humbug! Get out! He's done for.

SCENE IX

CALAF. _The foregoing._

(_Enter_ CALAF, _escorted by the_ DOCTOR. _He
kneels, and rests his hand on his forehead._)

ALTOUM.

Arise, thou young and madly daring man!

(CALAF