Rossini's Opera Il Barbiere Di Siviglia: Containing the Italian Text, with an English Translation and the Music of All the Principal Airs |
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Common terms and phrases
alloggio altra amore andate balcony barbiere Bartolo basta bella Bellini biglietto bless'd bravissimo bravo briccone buon Buona casa certo Chi sarà chiasso chiave Conte Coro cospetto Count Almaviva crepar Davvero detti diavolo dico dite Doctor Don Alonzo Don Bartolo Don Basilio Donizetti Ebben Ecco English words entra Figlia Fiorello forza Gioja gran guarda guardian heart for heart il Conte Indietro Italian and English J. E. Ditson la scala ladder quick-ly Librettos Lindor Lyon & Healy mano Meyerbeer nome Notary OLIVER DITSON opera OTELLO Piano pietà poco pow'r has left Presto quà quì Quick ragazza ran la lera rascal Rosina Rossini sarà SCENA SCENE Sempre sento Signor Figaro Signorina Silence Softly soldato Trip it lightly tutor tutto Uffi vado Verdi verità voglio vuò vuol Zitti Zitto Zounds
Popular passages
Page 14 - A little voice I heard just now: Oh, it has thrill'd my very heart! I feel that I am wounded sore; And Lindor 'twas who hurl'd the dart. Yes, Lindor, dearest, shall be mine!
Page 4 - Count, to whom, in spite of the watchfulness of her guardian, she contrives to convey a letter, declaring her passion, and her intention to break through her trammels, and at the same time requesting his name. To obtain an interview with his mistress the Count disguises himself as a drunken soldier, and forces his way into Bartolo's house.
Page 16 - Bedim the sense, and fire the brain. Then passing on from tongue to tongue, It gains new strength, it sweeps along In giddier whirl from place to place, And gains fresh vigor in its race; Till, like the sounds of tempests deep. That thro' the woods in murmurs sweep And howl amid their caverns drear.
Page 16 - BASILIO: Oh! calumny is like the sigh Of gentlest zephyrs breathing by; How softly sweet along the ground, Its first still voice is heard around. So soft, that sighing amid the bowers It scarcely fans the drooping flowers. Thus will the voice of calumny, More subtle...
Page 7 - I'll dust your coats! If this noise you still keep making, All the neighbors you'll be waking. Fiorello. Silence! silence! what an uproar! For these favors — for such honor! (Mocking them.) Rascals, hence, away — Scoundrels, quit the spot! Eh, what a devilish uproar! Are ye mad, or not? (Exit Chorus.) Count.
Page 9 - I, under excuse for my comb by day, and under favor of my guitar by night, endeavor to please all in an honest way. Oh, what a life! What a life!
Page 9 - I'm the -factotum Of the city. Ah, bravo, Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo! Most fortunate of men In every truth. La ran la lera, La ran la la! Ah! ah! what a happy life! But little fatigue, and abundant amusement; Always with some doubloons in my pocket, The noble fruit of my reputation. So it is: without Figaro There's not a girl in Seville will marry; To me the little widows Have recourse for a husband: I, under...
Page 18 - Lin dor loves you, lady; Oft he sighs for his Rosina. (As a fox she cunning seems, Ah. hy my faith. she sees thro' all) . ROSINA: Still one word, sir — to my Lindor How shall I contrive to speak? FIGARO: Poor man. he hut awaits some sign Of your affection and assent; A little note, a single line, And he himself will soon present. To this, what say you? ROSINA: I do not know. FIGARO: Take courage, pray you. ROSINA: I could not so — FIGARO: A few lines merely. ROSINA: I hlush to write.
Page 16 - Till, like the sounds of tempests deep. That through the woods in murmurs sweep And howl amid their caverns drear, It shakes the trembling soul with fear. At length the fury of the storm Assumes its wildest, fiercest form, — In one loud crash of thunder roars, And, like an earthquake, rocks the shores. While all the frowning vault of heaven, With many a fiery bolt is riven. Thus calumny, a simple breath. Engenders ruin, wreck and death; And sinks the wretched man forlorn. Beneath the lash...
Page 9 - ... a pocket that can always hoast a douhloon, the nohle fruit of my reputation. So it is: without Figaro there's not a girl in Seville will marry ; to me the little widows have recourse for a hushand...