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pot to hold your ink？' Gracious： 'You love the little birds； I think？ I
see you've managed with a fond research To find their tiny claws a
roomy perch！' Truculent： 'When you smoke your pipe。 。 。suppose
That the tobacco…smoke spouts from your nose Do not the neighbors；
as the fumes rise higher； Cry terror…struck： 〃The chimney is afire〃？'
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Considerate： 'Take care；。 。 。your head bowed low By such a
weight。 。 。lest head o'er heels you go！' Tender： 'Pray get a small
umbrella made； Lest its bright color in the sun should fade！'
Pedantic： 'That beast Aristophanes Names Hippocamelelephantoles
Must have possessed just such a solid lump Of flesh and bone； beneath
his forehead's bump！' Cavalier： 'The last fashion； friend； that hook？
To hang your hat on？ 'Tis a useful crook！' Emphatic： 'No wind； O
majestic nose； Can give THEE cold！save when the mistral blows！'
Dramatic： 'When it bleeds； what a Red Sea！' Admiring： 'Sign for a
perfumery！' Lyric： 'Is this a conch？。 。 。a Triton you？' Simple：
'When is the monument on view？' Rustic： 'That thing a nose？
Marry…come…up！ 'Tis a dwarf pumpkin； or a prize turnip！' Military：
'Point against cavalry！' Practical： 'Put it in a lottery！ Assuredly
'twould be the biggest prize！' Or。 。 。parodying Pyramus' sighs。 。 。
'Behold the nose that mars the harmony Of its master's phiz！ blushing
its treachery！' Such； my dear sir； is what you might have said； Had
you of wit or letters the least jot： But； O most lamentable man！of wit
You never had an atom； and of letters You have three letters only！they
spell Ass！ Andhad you had the necessary wit； To serve me all the
pleasantries I quote Before this noble audience。 。 。e'en so； You
would not have been let to utter one Nay； not the half or quarter of
such jest！ I take them from myself all in good part； But not from any
other man that breathes！
DE GUICHE （trying to draw away the dismayed viscount）： Come
away； Viscount！
THE VISCOUNT （choking with rage）： Hear his arrogance！ A
country lout who。 。 。who。 。 。has got no gloves！ Who goes out without
sleeve…knots； ribbons； lace！
CYRANO： True； all my elegances are within。 I do not prank
myself out； puppy…like； My toilet is more thorough； if less gay； I
would not sally fortha half…washed…out Affront upon my cheeka
conscience Yellow…eyed； bilious； from its sodden sleep； A ruffled
honor；。 。 。scruples grimed and dull！ I show no bravery of shining gems。
Truth； Independence； are my fluttering plumes。 'Tis not my form I lace
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to make me slim； But brace my soul with efforts as with stays；
Covered with exploits； not with ribbon…knots； My spirit bristling high
like your mustaches； I； traversing the crowds and chattering groups
Make Truth ring bravely out like clash of spurs！
THE VISCOUNT： But； Sir。 。 。
CYRANO： I wear no gloves？ And what of that？ I had
one；。 。 。remnant of an old worn pair； And； knowing not what else to do
with it； I threw it in the face of。 。 。some young fool。
THE VISCOUNT： Base scoundrel！ Rascally flat…footed lout！
CYRANO （taking off his hat； and bowing as if the viscount had
introduced himself）： Ah？。 。 。and I； Cyrano Savinien Hercule de
Bergerac
（Laughter。）
THE VISCOUNT （angrily）： Buffoon！
CYRANO （calling out as if he had been seized with the cramp）：
Aie！ Aie！
THE VISCOUNT （who was going away； turns back）： What on
earth is the fellow saying now？
CYRANO （with grimaces of pain）： It must be movedit's getting
stiff； I vow； This comes of leaving it in idleness！ Aie！。 。 。
THE VISCOUNT： What ails you？
CYRANO： The cramp！ cramp in my sword！
THE VISCOUNT （drawing his sword）： Good！
CYRANO： You shall feel a charming little stroke！
THE VISCOUNT （contemptuously）： Poet！。 。 。
CYRANO： Ay； poet； Sir！ In proof of which； While we fence；
presto！ all extempore I will compose a ballade。
THE VISCOUNT： A ballade？
CYRANO： Belike you know not what a ballade is。
THE VISCOUNT： But。 。 。
CYRANO （reciting； as if repeating a lesson）： Know then that the
ballade should contain Three eight…versed couplets。 。 。
THE VISCOUNT （stamping）： Oh！
CYRANO （still reciting）： And an envoi Of four lines。 。 。
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CYRANO DE BERGERAC
THE VISCOUNT： You。 。 。
CYRANO： I'll make one while we fight； And touch you at the
final line。
THE VISCOUNT： No！
CYRANO： No？ （declaiming）： The duel in Hotel of Burgundy
fought By De Bergerac and a good…for…naught！
THE VISCOUNT： What may that be； an if you please？
CYRANO： The title。
THE HOUSE （in great excitement）： Give room！Good sport！
Make place！Fair play！No noise！
（Tableau。 A circle of curious spectators in the pit； the marquises and
officers mingled with the common people； the pages climbing on each
other's shoulders to see better。 All the women standing up in the boxes。
To the right； De Guiche and his retinue。 Left； Le Bret； Ragueneau；
Cyrano； etc。）
CYRANO （shutting his eyes for a second）： Wait while I choose my
rhymes。 。 。I have them now！ （He suits the action to each word）： I gayly
doff my beaver low； And； freeing hand and heel； My heavy mantle
off I throw； And I draw my polished steel； Graceful as Phoebus；
round I wheel； Alert as Scaramouch； A word in your ear； Sir Spark； I
steal At the envoi's end； I touch！ （They engage）： Better for you had
you lain low； Where skewer my cock？ In the heel？ In the heart；
your ribbon blue below？ In the hip； and make you kneel？ Ho for
the music of clashing steel！ What now？A hit？ Not much！ 'Twill
be in the paunch the stroke I steal； When； at the envoi； I touch。
Oh； for a rhyme； a rhyme in o？ You wriggle； starch…white； my
eel？ A rhyme！ a rhyme！ The white feather you SHOW！ Tac！ I
parry the point of your steel； The point you hoped to make me feel；
I open the line； now clutch Your spit； Sir Scullionslow your zeal！
At the envoi's end； I touch。 （He declaims solemnly）： Envoi。 Prince；
pray Heaven for your soul's weal！ I move a pacelo； such！ and such！
Cut overfeint！ （Thrusting）： What ho！ You reel？ （The viscount
staggers。 Cyrano salutes）： At the envoi's end； I touch！
（Acclamations。 Applause in the boxes。 Flowers and handkerchiefs
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CYRANO DE BERGERAC
are thrown down。 The officers surround Cyrano； congratulating him。
Ragueneau dances for joy。 Le Bret is happy； but anxious。 The
viscount's friends hold him up and bear him away。）
THE CROWD （with one long shout）： Ah！
A TROOPER： 'Tis superb！
A WOMAN： A pretty stroke！
RAGUENEAU： A marvel！
A MARQUIS： A novelty！
LE BRET： O madman！
THE CROWD （presses round Cyrano。 Chorus of）： Compliments！
Bravo！ Let me congra