This title is for centering. This title is for centering. This title is for centering. This title is for centering.

Sponsor The official sponsor of [your opera]

Please unwrap candies and turn off cell phones at this time. Photography or recording of any kind is strictly prohibited. Supertitles provided by Chadwick Creative Arts

Soothe your sad eyes, don't complain about your fate. Here, women are only born to suffer.

- I understand, woe is me! My husband no longer loves me. - Have patience. It's useless to contradict his wishes.

Here, women are only born to serve.

- I understand, woe is me! My husband no longer loves me. - Have patience. It's useless to contradict his wishes.

The Bey.

- Please, my lady, I beg you… - What shall I do?

(With that hardened face of his, she has little to hope for.)

I, Mustafà, declare that it is in vain you flaunt the arrogance, power, and insane extravagances of women.

- Come, have courage my lady. - This is going to be an awful fifteen minutes.

I can protect myself no longer. I must try everything from now on.

(With that hardened face of his, she has little to hope for.)

My lord, because of those rants I can no longer hide from…

My dear, you've broken my eardrum. I'm speaking plain and simple. No more grimacing. I just don't know what to do with you.

(Oh, what capriciousness! What a rude, arrogant man!)

His (my) heart is fickle as a leaf, going from one fancy to another, trampling underfoot the beautiful allurements of all women!

- My lord, listen… if ever… - My dear, you've broken my eardrum. - His heart is fickle as a leaf, going from one fancy to another…

- Withdraw, all of you. Haly, you stay. - (What a cruel heart!) - (How harsh a law this is!)

I want you to have my Italian slave come at once and wait for me here.

You know I'm tired of this wife, I cannot stand her any longer.

To throw her out would be wrong, but to keep her is worse.

- Therefore I have decided she should take Lindoro for her husband. - But how? He isn't a Turk.

So what? A wife like this, truly docile, modest, who only thinks of pleasing her husband, is a common thing for a Turkish man.

But for an Italian man, as Lindoro has told me, such a wife would be most rare.

- You know I love this young man. I want to reward him. - But Mohammed's law does not allow such dubious mixed marriages.

- I have no law other than my whim. Do you understand me? - Yes, my lord.

Listen. I cannot find a single one that pleases me from among all of my slave girls.

- So many caresses, such girlish pouting, are not to my taste. - What can I do about it?

I need you to find me an Italian girl.

I have a great desire to have one of those signorinas who make life miserable for so many suitors.

I'd like to serve you, but my Corsairs… the sea's unpredictable.

If you don't find her for me within six days, and continue to act smart with me, I shall have you impaled.

Say no more.

To languish for a beauty and be far away from her is the most cruel torment a heart can experience.

Perhaps the moment shall come, but I have no hope yet.

To languish for a beauty and be far away from her is the most cruel torment a heart can experience.

Perhaps the moment shall come, but I have no hope yet.

My soul, content amidst my woes, finds peace only in thinking of my beloved, who remains forever constant in her love.

When can I return to Italy? I've been enslaved in these evil lands, separated from my beloved, for three months!

- Are you here? Listen, Italian, I want to give a wife to you. - To me? Did I hear right? (Oh, God!) But why? In my lowly state…

- You mustn't think about that. Well? - Lord, how can a man marry without love?

- Is that the way it is in Italy? The love of gold never enters into it? - I can't speak for others, but I couldn't marry for money.

- What about beauty? - I like it, but it's not enough.

- What would you want? - A woman who'd be to my liking.

I've thought of that. Come, see a lovely face, a good heart, and everything else.

(Poor love of mine, what a predicament this is!)

If I were inclined to take a wife, so many things must be there. Scarcely one woman in a hundred could combine them all.

Do you want beauty? Riches? Charm? Love? Take comfort, you'll find it all in this one alone. She's exceptional.

- For example, I would want her to be frank… and kind. - That's her all over.

- I'd want her to have two lovely eyes. - They're two stars.

- Hair? Cheeks? Face? - Black. Beautiful. Beautiful.

- (I'm stumbling, confounded. What do I say? What do I do?) - Dear friend, there's no way out. You'll fall hard when you see her.

(I'm lost, confused, what an accursed predicament. My heart is pounding with love within my breast.)

Are you made of ice? Of stone? What holds you back? Believe me, a wife like this one will please you.

- Does she have lovely eyes? - They're two stars.

- Is she frank and kind? - That's her all over.

- Hair? Cheeks? Face? - Black. Beautiful. Beautiful.

- (I'm lost, confused, my heart pounds with love inside my breast.) - Are you made of ice? Of stone? What holds you back?

What spoils! So many slaves!

- Good booty! Well done! Are there any pretty girls? - Not bad! - Mustafà will be quite pleased!

But what you see now is a matchless beauty approaching.

She's a dainty morsel for Mustafà.