ne thought,
To win your Turandot or live no more.
All that I ask is death or Turandot.

PANTALONE.

H'm, my dearest Royal Highness, I presume
you vouchsafed to behold the severed heads on
the city wall. Eh? Heaven knows what pleasure
there can be in having oneself stuck like a pig,
so that afterwards the whole town is full of
tears and blowing of noses, Heaven knows. I
can tell you beforehand, the Princess will nail
you three riddles together that it would take
Old Moore himself seven years to take to pieces,
Heaven knows. We two sit here, year in, year
out, and the learned doctors, too, sit here in
judgment, judging who guesses well and who
guesses ill, and we've had a bit of practice and
we can "read print, Heaven knows--and yet we
can't make head or tail of our most wise Princess's
riddles. These are not riddles like those in
Saturday's _Daily Telegraph_, such as:

"Puts his head between his feet,
And rolls him in a ball complete,"

or:

"Four already, I'll be bound,
This is one when it is found."

No, these are confounded new-fangled puzzles
with man-traps in 'em and patent springs. And
if she didn't write the solutions beforehand on
slips of paper and pop 'em into sealed envelopes
and hand 'em in to the doctors, why even they
wouldn't know whether they were standing on their
head or their feet, Heaven knows. You go back
home, my dearest Royal Highness. It really
would be a pity, such a fine young fellow as you
are. Do as I advise you, Heaven knows. If
you don't I wouldn't give as much for your head
as I would for a turnip radish. No use, no use.

(PANTALONE _to his place._)

CALAF.

You talk and lose your breath, old gentleman,
What I demand is death or Turandot.

TARTAGLIA.

Turandot.... Turandot.... What a
damned stupid ass the dear fellow is! You just
listen to me, my dear boy! This is not a
question of drawing lots with blades of straw
for a cup of coffee or an iced chocolate. Get
that into your head; do be quick and get that
into your head, please. It is a question here of
keeping or losing your head. That is the only
argument I will bring forward to reduce you to
reason. This one argument _should_ suffice. Your
head is in danger, do you understand? Your
head. His beloved Majesty in his own most
gracious person begs and implores you not, to
lose your head. His Imperial Majesty has in
his own most gracious person sacrificed one hundred
horses to the Sun, one hundred