Cyrano de Bergerac [17]
farther): To read poetry, 'tis better here. . .
FIRST POET (despairingly, with his mouth full): What! leave the cakes?. . .
SECOND POET: Never! Let's take them with us!
(They all follow Ragueneau in procession, after sweeping all the cakes off the trays.)
Scene 2.V.
Cyrano, Roxane, the duenna.
CYRANO: Ah! if I see but the faint glimmer of hope, then I draw out my letter! (Roxane, masked, followed by the duenna, appears at the glass pane of the door. He opens quickly): Enter!. . . (Walking up to the duenna): Two words with you, Duenna.
THE DUENNA: Four, Sir, an it like you.
CYRANO: Are you fond of sweet things?
THE DUENNA: Ay, I could eat myself sick on them!
CYRANO (catching up some of the paper bags from the counter): Good. See you these two sonnets of Monsieur Beuserade. . .
THE DUENNA: Hey?
CYRANO: . . .Which I fill for you with cream cakes!
THE DUENNA (changing her expression): Ha.
CYRANO: What say you to the cake they call a little puff?
THE DUENNA: If made with cream, Sir, I love them passing well.
CYRANO: Here I plunge six for your eating into the bosom of a poem by Saint Amant! And in these verses of Chapelain I glide a lighter morsel. Stay, love you hot cakes?
THE DUENNA: Ay, to the core of my heart!
CYRANO (filling her arms with the bags): Pleasure me then; go eat them all in the street.
THE DUENNA: But. . .
CYRANO (pushing her out): And come not back till the very last crumb be eaten!
(He shuts the door, comes down toward Roxane, and, uncovering, stands at a respectful distance from her.)
Scene 2.VI.
Cyrano, Roxane.
CYRANO: Blessed be the moment when you condescend-- Remembering that humbly I exist-- To come to meet me, and to say. . .to tell?. . .
ROXANE (who has unmasked): To thank you first of all. That dandy count, Whom you checkmated in brave sword-play Last night,. . .he is the man whom a great lord, Desirous of my favor. . .
CYRANO: Ha, De Guiche?
ROXANE (casting down her eyes): Sought to impose on me. . .for husband. . .
CYRANO: Ay! Husband!--dupe-husband!. . .Husband a la mode! (Bowing): Then I fought, happy chance! sweet lady, not For my ill favor--but your favors fair!
ROXANE: Confession next!. . .But, ere I make my shrift, You must be once again that brother-friend With whom I used to play by the lake-side!. . .
CYRANO: Ay, you would come each spring to Bergerac!
ROXANE: Mind you the reeds you cut to make your swords?. . .
CYRANO: While you wove corn-straw plaits for your dolls' hair!
ROXANE: Those were the days of games!. . .
CYRANO: And blackberries!. . .
ROXANE: In those days you did everything I bid!. . .
CYRANO: Roxane, in her short frock, was Madeleine. . .
ROXANE: Was I fair then?
CYRANO: You were not ill to see!
ROXANE: Ofttimes, with hands all bloody from a fall, You'd run to me! Then--aping mother-ways-- I, in a voice would-be severe, would chide,-- (She takes his hand): 'What is this scratch, again, that I see here?' (She starts, surprised): Oh! 'Tis too much! What's this? (Cyrano tries to draw away his hand): No, let me see! At your age, fie! Where did you get that scratch?
CYRANO: I got it--playing at the Porte de Nesle.
ROXANE (seating herself by the table, and dipping her handkerchief in a glass of water): Give here!
CYRANO (sitting by her): So soft! so gay maternal-sweet!
ROXANE: And tell me, while I wipe away the blood, How many 'gainst you?
CYRANO: Oh! A hundred--near.
ROXANE: Come, tell me!
CYRANO: No, let be. But you, come tell The thing, just now, you dared not. . .
ROXANE (keeping his hand): Now, I dare! The scent of those old days emboldens me! Yes, now I dare. Listen. I am in love.
CYRANO: Ah!. . .
ROXANE: But with one who knows not.
CYRANO: Ah!. . .
ROXANE: Not yet.
CYRANO: Ah!. . .
ROXANE: But who, if he knows not, soon shall learn.
CYRANO: Ah!. . .
FIRST POET (despairingly, with his mouth full): What! leave the cakes?. . .
SECOND POET: Never! Let's take them with us!
(They all follow Ragueneau in procession, after sweeping all the cakes off the trays.)
Scene 2.V.
Cyrano, Roxane, the duenna.
CYRANO: Ah! if I see but the faint glimmer of hope, then I draw out my letter! (Roxane, masked, followed by the duenna, appears at the glass pane of the door. He opens quickly): Enter!. . . (Walking up to the duenna): Two words with you, Duenna.
THE DUENNA: Four, Sir, an it like you.
CYRANO: Are you fond of sweet things?
THE DUENNA: Ay, I could eat myself sick on them!
CYRANO (catching up some of the paper bags from the counter): Good. See you these two sonnets of Monsieur Beuserade. . .
THE DUENNA: Hey?
CYRANO: . . .Which I fill for you with cream cakes!
THE DUENNA (changing her expression): Ha.
CYRANO: What say you to the cake they call a little puff?
THE DUENNA: If made with cream, Sir, I love them passing well.
CYRANO: Here I plunge six for your eating into the bosom of a poem by Saint Amant! And in these verses of Chapelain I glide a lighter morsel. Stay, love you hot cakes?
THE DUENNA: Ay, to the core of my heart!
CYRANO (filling her arms with the bags): Pleasure me then; go eat them all in the street.
THE DUENNA: But. . .
CYRANO (pushing her out): And come not back till the very last crumb be eaten!
(He shuts the door, comes down toward Roxane, and, uncovering, stands at a respectful distance from her.)
Scene 2.VI.
Cyrano, Roxane.
CYRANO: Blessed be the moment when you condescend-- Remembering that humbly I exist-- To come to meet me, and to say. . .to tell?. . .
ROXANE (who has unmasked): To thank you first of all. That dandy count, Whom you checkmated in brave sword-play Last night,. . .he is the man whom a great lord, Desirous of my favor. . .
CYRANO: Ha, De Guiche?
ROXANE (casting down her eyes): Sought to impose on me. . .for husband. . .
CYRANO: Ay! Husband!--dupe-husband!. . .Husband a la mode! (Bowing): Then I fought, happy chance! sweet lady, not For my ill favor--but your favors fair!
ROXANE: Confession next!. . .But, ere I make my shrift, You must be once again that brother-friend With whom I used to play by the lake-side!. . .
CYRANO: Ay, you would come each spring to Bergerac!
ROXANE: Mind you the reeds you cut to make your swords?. . .
CYRANO: While you wove corn-straw plaits for your dolls' hair!
ROXANE: Those were the days of games!. . .
CYRANO: And blackberries!. . .
ROXANE: In those days you did everything I bid!. . .
CYRANO: Roxane, in her short frock, was Madeleine. . .
ROXANE: Was I fair then?
CYRANO: You were not ill to see!
ROXANE: Ofttimes, with hands all bloody from a fall, You'd run to me! Then--aping mother-ways-- I, in a voice would-be severe, would chide,-- (She takes his hand): 'What is this scratch, again, that I see here?' (She starts, surprised): Oh! 'Tis too much! What's this? (Cyrano tries to draw away his hand): No, let me see! At your age, fie! Where did you get that scratch?
CYRANO: I got it--playing at the Porte de Nesle.
ROXANE (seating herself by the table, and dipping her handkerchief in a glass of water): Give here!
CYRANO (sitting by her): So soft! so gay maternal-sweet!
ROXANE: And tell me, while I wipe away the blood, How many 'gainst you?
CYRANO: Oh! A hundred--near.
ROXANE: Come, tell me!
CYRANO: No, let be. But you, come tell The thing, just now, you dared not. . .
ROXANE (keeping his hand): Now, I dare! The scent of those old days emboldens me! Yes, now I dare. Listen. I am in love.
CYRANO: Ah!. . .
ROXANE: But with one who knows not.
CYRANO: Ah!. . .
ROXANE: Not yet.
CYRANO: Ah!. . .
ROXANE: But who, if he knows not, soon shall learn.
CYRANO: Ah!. . .