Cyrano de Bergerac [24]
One of those men who well could speak their love!
CHRISTIAN: Oh, to express one's thoughts with facile grace!. . .
CYRANO: . . .To be a musketeer, with handsome face!
CHRISTIAN: Roxane is precieuse. I'm sure to prove A disappointment to her!
CYRANO (looking at him): Had I but Such an interpreter to speak my soul!
CHRISTIAN (with despair): Eloquence! Where to find it?
CYRANO (abruptly): That I lend, If you lend me your handsome victor-charms; Blended, we make a hero of romance!
CHRISTIAN: How so?
CYRANO: Think you you can repeat what things I daily teach your tongue?
CHRISTIAN: What do you mean?
CYRANO: Roxane shall never have a disillusion! Say, wilt thou that we woo her, double-handed? Wilt thou that we two woo her, both together? Feel'st thou, passing from my leather doublet, Through thy laced doublet, all my soul inspiring?
CHRISTIAN: But, Cyrano!. . .
CYRANO: Will you, I say?
CHRISTIAN: I fear!
CYRANO: Since, by yourself, you fear to chill her heart, Will you--to kindle all her heart to flame-- Wed into one my phrases and your lips?
CHRISTIAN: Your eyes flash!
CYRANO: Will you?
CHRISTIAN: Will it please you so? --Give you such pleasure?
CYRANO (madly): It!. . . (Then calmly, business-like): It would amuse me! It is an enterprise to tempt a poet. Will you complete me, and let me complete you? You march victorious,--I go in your shadow; Let me be wit for you, be you my beauty!
CHRISTIAN: The letter, that she waits for even now! I never can. . .
CYRANO (taking out the letter he had written): See! Here it is--your letter!
CHRISTIAN: What?
CYRANO: Take it! Look, it wants but the address.
CHRISTIAN: But I. . .
CYRANO: Fear nothing. Send it. It will suit.
CHRISTIAN: But have you. . .?
CYRANO: Oh! We have our pockets full, We poets, of love-letters, writ to Chloes, Daphnes--creations of our noddle-heads. Our lady-loves,--phantasms of our brains, --Dream-fancies blown into soap-bubbles! Come! Take it, and change feigned love-words into true; I breathed my sighs and moans haphazard-wise; Call all these wandering love-birds home to nest. You'll see that I was in these lettered lines, --Eloquent all the more, the less sincere! --Take it, and make an end!
CHRISTIAN: Were it not well To change some words? Written haphazard-wise, Will it fit Roxane?
CYRANO: 'Twill fit like a glove!
CHRISTIAN: But. . .
CYRANO: Ah, credulity of love! Roxane Will think each word inspired by herself!
CHRISTIAN: My friend!
(He throws himself into Cyrano's arms. They remain thus.)
Scene 2.XI.
Cyrano, Christian, the Gascons, the musketeer, Lise.
A CADET (half opening the door): Naught here!. . .The silence of the grave! I dare not look. . . (He puts his head in): Why?. . .
ALL THE CADETS (entering, and seeing Cyrano and Christian embracing): Oh!. . .
A CADET: This passes all!
(Consternation.)
THE MUSKETEER (mockingly): Ho, ho!. . .
CARBON: Our demon has become a saint? Struck on one nostril--lo! he turns the other!
MUSKETEER: Then we may speak about his nose, henceforth!. . . (Calling to Lise, boastfully): --Ah, Lise, see here! (Sniffing ostentatiously): O heavens!. . .what a stink!. . . (Going up to Cyrano): You, sir, without a doubt have sniffed it up! --What is the smell I notice here?
CYRANO (cuffing his head): Clove-heads.
(General delight. The cadets have found the old Cyrano again! They turn somersaults.)
Curtain.
Act III.
Roxane's Kiss.
A small square in the old Marais. Old houses. A perspective of little streets. On the right Roxane's house and the wall of her garden overhung with thick foliage. Window and balcony over the door. A bench in front.
From the bench and the stones jutting out of the wall it is easy to climb to the balcony. In front of an old house in the same style of brick and stone. The knocker of this door is bandaged
CHRISTIAN: Oh, to express one's thoughts with facile grace!. . .
CYRANO: . . .To be a musketeer, with handsome face!
CHRISTIAN: Roxane is precieuse. I'm sure to prove A disappointment to her!
CYRANO (looking at him): Had I but Such an interpreter to speak my soul!
CHRISTIAN (with despair): Eloquence! Where to find it?
CYRANO (abruptly): That I lend, If you lend me your handsome victor-charms; Blended, we make a hero of romance!
CHRISTIAN: How so?
CYRANO: Think you you can repeat what things I daily teach your tongue?
CHRISTIAN: What do you mean?
CYRANO: Roxane shall never have a disillusion! Say, wilt thou that we woo her, double-handed? Wilt thou that we two woo her, both together? Feel'st thou, passing from my leather doublet, Through thy laced doublet, all my soul inspiring?
CHRISTIAN: But, Cyrano!. . .
CYRANO: Will you, I say?
CHRISTIAN: I fear!
CYRANO: Since, by yourself, you fear to chill her heart, Will you--to kindle all her heart to flame-- Wed into one my phrases and your lips?
CHRISTIAN: Your eyes flash!
CYRANO: Will you?
CHRISTIAN: Will it please you so? --Give you such pleasure?
CYRANO (madly): It!. . . (Then calmly, business-like): It would amuse me! It is an enterprise to tempt a poet. Will you complete me, and let me complete you? You march victorious,--I go in your shadow; Let me be wit for you, be you my beauty!
CHRISTIAN: The letter, that she waits for even now! I never can. . .
CYRANO (taking out the letter he had written): See! Here it is--your letter!
CHRISTIAN: What?
CYRANO: Take it! Look, it wants but the address.
CHRISTIAN: But I. . .
CYRANO: Fear nothing. Send it. It will suit.
CHRISTIAN: But have you. . .?
CYRANO: Oh! We have our pockets full, We poets, of love-letters, writ to Chloes, Daphnes--creations of our noddle-heads. Our lady-loves,--phantasms of our brains, --Dream-fancies blown into soap-bubbles! Come! Take it, and change feigned love-words into true; I breathed my sighs and moans haphazard-wise; Call all these wandering love-birds home to nest. You'll see that I was in these lettered lines, --Eloquent all the more, the less sincere! --Take it, and make an end!
CHRISTIAN: Were it not well To change some words? Written haphazard-wise, Will it fit Roxane?
CYRANO: 'Twill fit like a glove!
CHRISTIAN: But. . .
CYRANO: Ah, credulity of love! Roxane Will think each word inspired by herself!
CHRISTIAN: My friend!
(He throws himself into Cyrano's arms. They remain thus.)
Scene 2.XI.
Cyrano, Christian, the Gascons, the musketeer, Lise.
A CADET (half opening the door): Naught here!. . .The silence of the grave! I dare not look. . . (He puts his head in): Why?. . .
ALL THE CADETS (entering, and seeing Cyrano and Christian embracing): Oh!. . .
A CADET: This passes all!
(Consternation.)
THE MUSKETEER (mockingly): Ho, ho!. . .
CARBON: Our demon has become a saint? Struck on one nostril--lo! he turns the other!
MUSKETEER: Then we may speak about his nose, henceforth!. . . (Calling to Lise, boastfully): --Ah, Lise, see here! (Sniffing ostentatiously): O heavens!. . .what a stink!. . . (Going up to Cyrano): You, sir, without a doubt have sniffed it up! --What is the smell I notice here?
CYRANO (cuffing his head): Clove-heads.
(General delight. The cadets have found the old Cyrano again! They turn somersaults.)
Curtain.
Act III.
Roxane's Kiss.
A small square in the old Marais. Old houses. A perspective of little streets. On the right Roxane's house and the wall of her garden overhung with thick foliage. Window and balcony over the door. A bench in front.
From the bench and the stones jutting out of the wall it is easy to climb to the balcony. In front of an old house in the same style of brick and stone. The knocker of this door is bandaged