La Tosca – Act Three – after the opera by Puccini.
From a casemate in the battlements of Fort Sant’ Angelo,
we see a clear dawn sky that’s studded fitfully with stars.
The painter Cavaradossi, waking, views the world below
through a tiny window in his cell that’s fitted out with bars.
The sound of jingling sheep bells, distant, heralding the dawn
and the singing of a shepherd boy is heard as, from afar,
the individual tolling, slow, of church bells knells forlorn
from steeples round the city to farewell each waning star.
A gaoler tells the prisoner: “You have but one hour more.
A holy father waits without if you would make confession.
If not, and you should need me, I will wait outside the door.
Before you die, I may permit one reasonable concession.”
“I wish to write a note to someone I hold very dear.
If you would pledge your word to see she gets it, I will give
this ring which is the only thing I have of value here.”
“Write your letter. I’ll deliver it when you no longer live.”
Cavaradossi seats himself to write but muses, lost in thought:
“When stars shone brightly and she came to meet me at the gate,
soft kisses and caresses from her fragrant arms I sought
but now, with life so dear, despairing, I must death await!”
Spoletta leads in Tosca who runs up to Mario,
exhibiting the safe conduct by Scarpia signed and sealed.
“You will be freed! for he agreed with me to let you go
and only by his signature could sentence be repealed.
“Your life he wanted or my love; entreaties were in vain.
He showed me where the gallows-tree spread out its arms in waiting.
The muffled drums kept beating and were driving me insane
but Scarpia’s monstrous bargain gave no quarter for debating.
“He laughed at my imploring, I avowed myself defeated -
he signed and sealed the permit which allows us to go free -
he did not see the knife which I had silently secreted -
I stabbed him in his wicked heart just as he came at me!”
“O’ gentle hands!, designed to groom and deck your raven tresses
or close in prayer for Heaven’s grace to God, our great Defender;
that clasped with ardent love and joy, bestowing soft caresses,
but struck unyielding steel into the heart of the offender!”
“Now, Mario! All is ready and a carriage is awaiting.
My money,. jewels and clothing I’ve collected for our drive
but first you must submit to what you’ve been anticipating -
the firing squad - but mere pretence from which you will survive!
“A mimic execution! When they fire, you are to fall
and lie there till the soldiers leave and we are all alone.
As soon as they retire and all is clear, await my call.
Until you hear me, do not move but stay as still as stone!
“Remember! You must fall upon the instant when they fire,
convincing everybody except me that you’ve been shot,
and stay, unmoving, till I call as soon as they retire.
They’ll think you’re dead! Spoletta only, knows that you are not.”
The gaoler speaks: “Your time is come!” “I’m ready.” Mario says
He takes his leave of Tosca and goes out to face the squad.
Preliminaries over while she waits upon the stairs,
the Officer calls: “Count of three, then Fire!… and go with God!”
Though Tosca blocks her ears, the loud explosion she can hear
and marvels at the way her lover’s acting out his guise.
She waits until the officer and soldiers disappear
then calls to tell him that they’ve gone so he can start to rise.
He does not move but seems perhaps to overplay his part.
She runs across with cries of: “Get up Mario! Do you hear?”
and then perceives the blood and bullet-holes around his heart.
She flings herself upon his corpse with cries of loud despair:
“Ah! Murdered! Murdered! Murdered! Oh my lover! Feel my tears!
What shall I do without you? AHHH! That you should end like this?”
She hears Spoletta and Sciarrone pounding up the stairs
with cries of: “Floria Tosca! You killed Scarpia! Murderess!”
Spoletta tries to seize her but she thrusts his grip away
from her, so violently that he cannot keep to his feet.
He falls but cries “For his life, Tosca, dearly you will pay!”
She rushes to the battlements “My life the debt will meet.!”
She springs upon the parapet and leaps off with a cry….
“Oh Scarpia! As God’s our Judge, we’ll surely meet on high!”
The End.
Hugh Wyles, June 7th. 2008.
Author notes
I dedicate the Three Acts of this Opera Story to my adopted daughter, Mari Goes with love on this,
her birthday, July 15th. 2008.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Dear Hugh,
At last Act three.
What a sneaky creep that Scarpia was, he had no intentions of letting Mario go, it was just a ruse to get Tosca in his clutches.Well, she fixed him. Such a tragedy at the end, but at least they were rejoined in death.
I enjoyed reading this Opera immensely.
Thankyou Hugh for sharing with us this last act of La Tosca.
Love Bea
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I thought I commented on this? I know I read this and the second part. Man I am forgetful.
Oh my, what a melodramatic ending! I guess he wanted to top "Romeo and Juliet."
Exceedingly well told and written Hugh, and I won't blame you for Puccini's melodrama. 
I see the Goes lady applauded twice. I will only applaud once. Sir Ima is saving his points and box tops to buy a new tricycle that he saw on the back of a package of Corn flakes....
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Thanks Yem,
At one of the major opera houses (which I shall not name) the stage engineers placed a trampoline below the battlements to save Tosca from potential injury when she hurled herself from the parapet in the final moment.
It must have ruined the effect somewhat for the audience when she kept bouncing back into view with her arms and legs flailing as she desperately attempted to stop her repeat appearances!!
Of course that could only happen in Italy!!
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Came again to leave more applauses and to thank you once more for this wonderful dedication.
Obrigada, merci, dank je, gracias dad
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Dear Mariza and Aziram,
OK OK I got the messages. I'm so glad you liked my Birthday offerings and hope you're having a nice day but don't eat too many chocolates or forget your poi practice!
...and why is Yem wearing that cheerleaders' outfit again?
Love and hugs, XXX el padre. -
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All my clothes are in the laundry and the cheerleader suit looked so comfortable, and the pom poms I stuffed under the top...I look rather handsomely well-built I think....
I definitely need to cut out the Moxie .
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Opera wouldn't be opera if there was no tragedy in it. Although there are some with a happy end and even humour, the tragic ones are the best.
You write those poems with so much feelings and I'm honoured o have this one dedicated to my birthday.
Thank you so very much dad for this birthday gift, which is shown through your talent
Besos de tu hija Aziram
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