The same, with CYRANO, then BELLEROSE and JODELET.

[The circle around him widens.]

[The CROWD draws back again.]

[MONTFLEURY suddenly disappears. There is a tempest of laughs, whistles and catcalls.]

[BELLEROSE comes forward and bows.]

[The people begin to go out, while CYRANO looks on with satisfaction. But the CROWD soon stops on hearing the following scene, and everyone remains where they are. The women, who, with their cloaks on, are already standing up in the boxes, stop to listen, and finally reseat themselves.]

[Laughter erupts throughout the CROWD.]

[A circle of curious spectators forms in the pit. The MARQUISES and OFFICERS mingle with the common people. The PAGES climb on each other's shoulders to see better. All the WOMEN stand up in the boxes. To the right stand DE GUICHE and his retinue. To the left are LE BRET, RAGUENEAU CYRANO, etc.]

[He declaims solemnly.]

[Acclamations and applause rise from the boxes. Flowers and handkerchiefs are thrown down. The OFFICERS surround CYRANO, congratulating him. RAGUENEAU dances for joy. LE BRET is happy, but anxious. DE VALVERT'S friends hold him up and bear him away.]

[He goes away.]

[Cries are heard outside]

[JODELET and BELLEROSE go out, bowing low to CYRANO]

[The PORTER goes out.]

[He puts back the other half.]

[He kisses her hand as though she were a princess.]

[She goes out.]

MONTFLEURY:

[to the MARQUISES] Come to my help, my lords!

A MARQUIS:

[carelessly] Oh, go on, Montfleury, keep acting.

CYRANO:

If you do, I'll cuff your face, fat man!

MARQUIS:

That's enough!

CYRANO:

And you marquises! I advise all of you to hold your tongues, or else each one of you will get a taste of my cane!

ALL THE MARQUISES:

[rising] That's enough! Montfleury—

CYRANO:

If he doesn't get off the stage this minute, I'll cut off his ears and slit him up like a roasted pig!

A VOICE:

But—

CYRANO:

Out he goes!

ANOTHER VOICE:

Yet—

CYRANO:

Is he not gone yet? [He makes the gesture of turning up his cuffs.] Good! I shall mount the stage now and carve up this fine, fat Italian sausage!

MONTFLEURY:

[trying to be dignified] You outrage Thalia when you insult me!

CYRANO:

[very politely] You, Sir, are not acquainted in the least with that muse! But if she ever had the questionable pleasure of meeting you, you fat dullard, she would be inspired to kick you in the backside!

AUDIENCE:

Montfleury! Montfleury! Come, go on and play!

CYRANO:

[to those who are calling out] Have a care, all of you! If you keep on, you're liable to rouse my sword right out of its scabbard!

THE CROWD:

[drawing back] Stay back from him! Beware!

CYRANO:

[to MONTFLEURY] Leave the stage! [The CROWD begins to murmur and to come nearer to CYRANO.] Did someone speak?

A VOICE:

[singing at the back] Monsieur de Cyrano
Such a tyrant today
Oh, why won't he just go?
So that we can see the play!

AUDIENCE:

[singing] La Clorise! La Clorise!

CYRANO:

Let me hear you sing that foolish little song once more and I'll slaughter every man in this theater!

A BURGHER:

Oh, do you think yourself Samson?

CYRANO:

Yes, Samson! Will you lend me your jawbone, Sir?

A LADY:

[in the boxes] This is outrageous!

A LORD:

Scandalous!

A BURGHER:

Most annoying!

A PAGE:

Hilarious!

AUDIENCE:

[hissing] Montfleury! Cyrano!

CYRANO:

Silence!

AUDIENCE:

[wildly excited] Woof! Woof!—Quack! Quack!—Cock-a-doodle-doo!

CYRANO:

I order you all to—

A PAGE:

Meow!

CYRANO:

I order silence! And I challenge every man here! Come, all you young heroes! I'll write down your names and give each of you a number —everyone will get their turn! Come now, who wants to be first? You, Sir? No? You? No? Come on, the first opponent will be done away with honorably and sent straight to glory! Come now, who wants to die? Hold up your hands! [a silence] What is it? Too modest to face my naked sword? No one? Not one name? Good, then I shall proceed. [turning toward the stage, where MONTFLEURY waits in agony] This theater must be cured of this boil! [He puts his hand on his sword.] And if it won't leave of its own accord, then I shall have to lance it!

MONTFLEURY:

I—

CYRANO:

[leaves his chair, and settles himself in the middle of the circle which has formed] I will clap my hands three times, you full moon! On the third clap, I want to see you eclipse yourself!

AUDIENCE:

[amused] Ah!

CYRANO:

[clapping his hands] One!

MONTFLEURY:

I—

A VOICE:

[in the boxes] Stay!

AUDIENCE:

[divided] Stay!—Go!—No, stay!

MONTFLEURY:

I think, gentlemen—

CYRANO:

Two!

MONTFLEURY:

I think it would be wise if I—

CYRANO:

Three!

AUDIENCE:

Coward! Come back!

CYRANO:

[delighted, sits back in his chair, arms crossed] Come back if you dare!

A BURGHER:

Call for the speaker of the theater!

THE BOXES:

Ah! Here's Bellerose!

BELLEROSE:

[elegantly] My noble lords—

AUDIENCE:

No! Give us Jodelet instead!

JODELET:

[advancing, speaking in an exaggerated nasal voice] Miserable calves!

AUDIENCE:

[laughing] Bravo, go on!

JODELET:

No bravos, Sirs! The fat tragedian, whom you all love, has had to—

AUDIENCE:

That coward!

JODELET:

—was obliged to go.

AUDIENCE:

Call him back!

SOME:

No!

OTHERS:

Yes!

A YOUNG MAN:

[to CYRANO] But, Sir, why do you hate Montfleury so much?

CYRANO:

[graciously, still seated] Young man, I have two reasons—either will suffice. First, he is a terrible actor. He heaves up his lines as though they were buckets of water drawn clumsily from a well, when instead, they should soar from his lips like the lightest of birds. The second reason …well, that's my secret.

A BURGHER:

[behind him] Shame on you! You deprive us of La Clorise! I must insist—

CYRANO:

[turning his chair toward the BURGHER, respectfully] You old mule! The verses of Baro are worthless trash! You should thank me for stopping the play!

LADY INTELLECTUALS:

[in the boxes] Our Baro! Oh dear! How dare he!

CYRANO:

[turning his chair toward the boxes gallantly] Fair ladies! Bloom and radiate, fill us with longing, intoxicate us with your beauty, charm death with your sweet smiles, inspire poetry—but don't attempt to judge it!

BELLEROSE:

We must give back the entrance fees!

CYRANO:

[turning his chair toward the stage] Bellerose, that's the smartest thing anyone has said all afternoon! You know how I love the theater and its actors. Therefore, I would never intentionally rend a tear in Thespis’ sacred cloak! [He rises and throws a bag onto the stage.] Catch then the purse I throw and hold your peace!

AUDIENCE

[dazzled] Ah!—Oh!

JODELET:

[catching the bag skillfully and weighing it] At this price, Sir, you are welcome to come and stop the play anytime!

AUDIENCE:

Boo! Boo!

JODELET:

Even if we all get booed!

BELLEROSE:

Clear out the hall!

JODELET:

Everybody out this minute!

LE BRET:

[to CYRANO] You are mad!

A BORE:

[coming up to CYRANO] The great actor Montfleury! How could you? Shame on you! Don't you know he's protected by the Duke of Candal! Do you have a patron?

CYRANO:

No!

BORE:

No patron?

CYRANO:

None!

BORE:

What! No great lord to shield you with his name?

CYRANO:

[irritated] No, I've told you twice! Must I tell you again? I have no protector…[He puts his hand on his sword.] but I do have a protectress —right here!

BORE:

But now you must leave town, then.

CYRANO:

Well, that depends!

BORE:

The Duke has a long arm, you know!

CYRANO:

But not so long as mine, when it is lengthened out [He shows his sword.] …with this!

BORE:

But do you really dare…?

CYRANO:

Oh, I certainly do!

BORE:

But—

CYRANO:

Get out now! Go!

BORE:

But I—

CYRANO:

Go! Or tell me why you stare at my nose!

THE BORE:

[petrified] I—

CYRANO:

[walking straight up to him] Well, what's so strange about it?

BORE:

[drawing back] My lord, you're mistaken!

CYRANO:

Is it soft and dangling, like an elephant's trunk?

BORE:

[still drawing back] I never—

CYRANO:

Is it crooked, like an owl's beak?

BORE:

I—

CYRANO:

Do you see a wart upon the tip?

BORE:

No—

CYRANO:

Is there a fly upon it? What is there to stare at?

BORE:

Oh!

CYRANO:

What do you see?

BORE:

But I've been so careful not to look!

CYRANO:

Oh? Why is that?

BORE:

I was—

CYRANO:

Oh! It disgusts you!

BORE:

Sir!

CYRANO:

Are you sickened by its color?

BORE:

Please, Sir!

CYRANO:

Or it's shape?

BORE:

No, on the contrary!

CYRANO:

Why then that look of distaste? Do you think it's too large, perhaps?

BORE:

[stammering] No, it's small! Quite small! It's minute!

CYRANO:

Minute! How dare you accuse me of having a small nose!

BORE:

Heaven help me!

CYRANO:

My nose is enormous, you snub-nosed, meddling idiot! And let it be said that I am proud to possess such an appendage! ’Tis well known that a large nose indicates an affable soul, one kind and courteous, liberal and brave, just like myself! Such qualities you could never hope to have, you hateful wretch! For that dull face which my hand will soon slap is as empty…[He slaps him.]

BORE:

Ouch!

CYRANO:

…of pride, of glory, of feeling, of poetry and godlike spark—in fact, as empty as all that is embodied by my big nose, [He turns him by the shoulders.] as what my boot will soon meet! [He kicks him in the backside.]

BORE:

[running away] Help! Call the Guard!

CYRANO:

Here's a word of advice for any other fool who might find something amusing about the middle of my face. Let it be known that if the jester is a nobleman, he will not just taste my boot but will taste my steel instead!

DE GUICHE:

[who, with the MARQUISES, has come down from the stage] He's becoming a nuisance!

DE VALVERT:

[shrugging his shoulders] He's quite arrogant!

DE GUICHE:

Won't anyone silence him?

DE VALVERT:

I'll take the challenge. I'll treat him to one of my quips! See here! [With a conceited air, he goes up to CYRANO, who is watching him.] Sir, your nose is…hmm…it is…very big!

CYRANO:

[gravely] Very!

DE VALVERT:

[laughing] Ha!

CYRANO:

[calmly] Is that all?

DE VALVERT:

What do you mean?

CYRANO:

Ah no, young man! That was a trifle short! You might have said at least a hundred things by varying the tone. Shall I give you a few examples?

Aggressive:

“Sir, if I had such a nose, I'd amputate it!”

Friendly:

“It must annoy you when it dips into your drink. You really should have a specially shaped goblet, I think!”

Descriptive:

“’Tis a rock, a peak, a cape, a peninsula!”

Curious:

“What is the purpose of that large container? Do you keep your pens and ink in it?”

Gracious:

“Oh, how you must love the birds! I see you've made them a nice perch for their tiny feet!”

Hostile:

“When you enjoy your pipe and the smoke spouts from your nose, the neighbors must think the chimney's on fire!”

Considerate:

“When you stroll, keep your head bowed low, else head over heels you just might go!”

Tender:

“Oh, someone please get a small umbrella made, else in the sun its bright color might fade!”

Pedantic:

“Only such a beast as Aristophanes’ hippocampelephantocamelos could have possessed such a large lump of flesh and bone beneath its forehead!”

Flippant:

“What a fashionable hook to hang your hat on!”

Emphatic:

“No wind but the Arctic blast would be strong enough to give you a cold, oh majestic nose!”

Dramatic:

“When it bleeds, it's like the Red Sea!”

Admiring:

“Oh, what a perfect sign for a perfume shop!”

Lyrical:

“Is that a conch? And you, a Triton?”

Simple:

“Is that monument open for public viewing?”

Rustic:

“Is that thing a nose? No, it must be a dwarf pumpkin, or a prize watermelon!”

Military:

“Aim that cannon at the enemy and blast away!”

Practical:

“Put it in the lottery! I'm sure it would be the biggest prize!”
Or, in a parody of Pyramus, “Behold the nose that mars the beauty of its owner's face. How red with shame it is, the traitor!”
All of these things you might have said, if you were a man of wit and letters in the slightest. But, sadly, of wit you never had an atom, and of letters you have only three—and they spell Ass! And even if you were intelligent enough to think of witty remarks like the ones I just listed, you would not have been able to utter a single one of them. Because I allow such jokes only when spoken by myself, and never by any other man that breathes!

DE GUICHE:

[trying to draw away the dismayed DE VALVERT] Come away, Viscount!

DE VALVERT:

[choking with rage] Listen to this arrogant lout! A barbarian who wears no gloves …who comes out in public without any ribbons and lace!

CYRANO:

True, all my elegances are within. I do not dress up like a pretentious dandy when I go out. But I'll tell you this: I groom myself more thoroughly than you. I would never venture out in public with a soiled conscience, a tarnished honor, or scruples grimy and dull. I do not adorn myself with gems and ribbons, like you. Instead, I decorate myself with truth, independence and a clean soul. I am not ornamented with tassels and lace but with proud and brave exploits instead. My spirit is sharper than your stiff mustache. When I walk among the crowds and chattering groups, I make Truth ring bravely out like a clash of spurs!

DE VALVERT:

But, Sir—

CYRANO:

I wear no gloves? And what of that? I had one, the remaining one of an old pair. And, not having any other use for it, I threw it in the face of some young fool.

DE VALVERT:

Base scoundrel! Stupid lout!

CYRANO:

[taking off his hat, and bowing as if the VISCOUNT had introduced himself] Oh, delighted to meet you! And I am Cyrano Savinien Hercule de Bergerac.

DE VALVERT:

[angrily] Buffoon!

CYRANO:

[crying out as if in pain] Aie! Aie!

DE VALVERT:

[who was going away, turns back] What on earth is the fellow saying now?

CYRANO:

[with grimaces of pain] It must be moved—it's getting stiff! This is what happens when it's been unused for too long! Aie!

DE VALVERT:

What is the matter with you?

CYRANO:

The cramp! I have a cramp in my sword!

DE VALVERT:

[drawing his own sword] So be it!

CYRANO:

You shall feel a charming little stroke!

DE VALVERT:

[contemptuously] Poet!

CYRANO:

Yes, a poet, Sir! And to demonstrate my skills as such, I will compose a ballade as we fight.

DE VALVERT:

A ballade?

CYRANO:

Do you not know what a ballade is?

DE VALVERT:

But—

CYRANO:

[reciting, as if repeating a lesson] Know then that the ballade should contain three eight-versed couplets …

DE VALVERT:

[stamping his foot] Oh!

CYRANO:

[still reciting] And an envoi of four lines …

DE VALVERT:

You—

CYRANO:

I'll make one as we fight, and on the last line, I shall thrust my sword home.

DE VALVERT:

No!

CYRANO:

No? [declaiming loudly] Ballade of the duel between de Bergerac and a fool—here in the Hotel Burgundy!

DE VALVERT:

What's all that?

CYRANO:

That is the title.

AUDIENCE:

[greatly excited] Quiet!—Make room!—Fair play!—What sport!

CYRANO:

[shutting his eyes for a second] Wait while I choose my lines. Ah, now I have them!
I lightly doff my hat down low,
And, freeing hand and heel,
My heavy cloak away I throw,
And I draw my polished steel.
Graceful as Phoebus, round I wheel,
With swiftness and skill alike,
“Careful now,” I say with zeal,
For at the end of the refrain I shall strike!
Better for you had you lain low.
Where shall I hit you? In the heel?
Or how about the heart, my worthless foe?
Or in the hip, and make you kneel?
Oh, for the music of clashing steel!
Where shall I land my spike?
’Twill be in the belly the stroke I steal,
When, at the end of the refrain I shall strike!
Oh, for a word that rhymes with “o”!
You wriggle, so white, my eel!
Your face is as pale as fresh snow, As I parry the point of your steel.
Oh there, a thrust you hoped I'd feel!
But alas, you missed, little tyke!
Now we're nearing the close of this deal. Watch out! At the end of the refrain I strike!

[He matches each action to each word.]

[They begin fencing.]

Refrain:

And now I shall make you kneel.
Pray for your soul if you like!
I thrust [He thrusts.] and your fate I seal,
As at the end of the refrain—[DE VALVERT staggers; CYRANO salutes.]
I strike!

AUDIENCE:

[with one long shout] Ah!

A TROOPER:

’Tis superb!

A WOMAN:

A pretty stroke!

RAGUENEAU:

A marvel!

LE BRET:

Oh, madman!

AUDIENCE:

[presses around CYRANO, shouting] Compliments!—Bravo!— Quite unsurpassed!

A WOMAN'S VOICE:

There's a hero for you!

A MUSKETEER:

[advancing to CYRANO with outstretched hand] Sir, permit me to say that you are a fine swordsman—and I am a good judge of such things. I stamped my feet to show my admiration!

CYRANO:

[to CUIGY] Who is that gentleman?

CUIGY:

Why, that's D'Artagnan!

LE BRET:

[to CYRANO, taking his arm] I need a word with you!

CYRANO:

Wait—let the crowd go. [to BELLEROSE] May I stay?

BELLEROSE

[respectfully] Of course!

JODELET:

[who has looked out] They're hooting Montfleury!

BELLEROSE:

[solemnly] Sic transit! [to the porters] Sweep up and close everything down, but leave the lights on. We'll take dinner, but later we must return to rehearse tomorrow's farce.

PORTER:

[to CYRANO] You do not dine, Sir?

CYRANO:

No.

LE BRET:

Because?

CYRANO:

[proudly] Because…[changing his tone as the PORTER goes away] I have no money!

LE BRET:

[with the action of throwing a bag] But how's that? What about that bag of money?

CYRANO:

My inheritance—all spent in one day!

LE BRET:

How are you going to live for the next month?

CYRANO:

I have nothing left.

LE BRET:

How foolish of you to throw it all away like that!

CYRANO:

But what a graceful action! Just think of it!

BUFFET-GIRL:

[coughing, behind her counter] Ahem! [CYRANO and LE BRET turn. She comes timidly forward.] Sir, my heart cannot stand to hear that you are not eating. [showing the buffet] Please take what you like!

CYRANO:

[taking off his hat] Gentle child, although my Gascon pride forbids me to take the least bit of food from you, my fear of offending you outweighs that pride. I will accept [He goes over to the buffet.]…one of these grapes. [She offers him the whole bunch. He takes one.] No, just one! [She tries to give him wine, but he stops her.] No, a glass of water will be just fine, and half a macaroon!

LE BRET:

What foolery!

BUFFET-GIRL:

Please take something else!

CYRANO:

I take your hand to kiss.

BUFFET-GIRL:

Thank you, kind Sir! [curtsying] Good-night.