Hide our sword now wounded knight!
Your vain glorious gasconnade brought you to your final fight for your pride, high price you've paid!
CHRISTINE:
Silken couch and hay-filled barn: both have been his battlefield.
PIANGI:
Those who tangle with Don Juan ...
REYER:
No, no, no! Chorus, rest, please. Don Juan, Signor Piangi-here is the phrase.
'Those who tangle with Don Juan ...' If you please?
PIANGI:
Those who tangle with Don Juan ...
REYER:
No, no. Nearly-but no. 'Those who tan, tan, tan'
PIANGI:
Those who tangle with Don Juan ...
CARLOTTA:
His way is better. At least he make it sound like music!
GIRY:
Signora-would you speak that way in the presence of the composer?
CARLOTTA:
The composer is not here! And if he were here, I would ...
GIRY:
Are you certain of that, Signora ...?
REYER:
So, once again-after seven. Five, six, seven
PIANGI:
Those who tangle with Don Juan ...
CARLOTTA:
Ah, piu non posso! What does it matter what notes we sing?
GIRY:
Have patience, Signora.
CARLOTTA:
No-one will know if it is right or if it is wrong. No-one will care if it is right, or if it is wrong.
CARLOTTA:
Those who tangle with Don Juan!
PIANGI:
Those who tan ... tan ... is right?
CHRISTINE:
Not quite, Signor: Those who tan ... tan ...
REYER:
Ladies ... Signor Piangi ... if you please ...
ALL EXCEPT CHRISTINE:
Poor young maiden! For the thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets
you will have to pay the bill-tangled in the winding sheets!
CHRISTINE:
In sleep he sang to me,
in dreams he came ...
that voice which calls to me and speaks my name ...
Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing
Her Father promised her that he would send her the Angel of Music
Her father promised her ...
Her father promised her
