Act I, Scene vii
| Cyrano, Le Bret. Then actors, actresses, Cuigy, Brissaille, Ligniere, the |
| porter, the violinists. |
| CYRANO (falling into Le Bret's arms): |
 A rendezvous. . .from her!. . . |
| LE BRET: |
| You're sad no more! |
| CYRANO: |
| Ah! Let the world go burn! She knows I live! |
| LE BRET: |
| Now you'll be calm, I hope? |
| CYRANO (beside himself for joy): |
| Calm? I now calm? |
| I'll be frenetic, frantic,—raving mad! |
| Oh, for an army to attack!—a host! |
| I've ten hearts in my breast; a score of arms; |
| No dwarfs to cleave in twain!. . . |
| (Wildly): |
| No! Giants now! |
| (For a few moments the shadows of the actors have been moving on the stage, |
| whispers are heard—the rehearsal is beginning. The violinists are in their |
| places.) |
| A VOICE FROM THE STAGE: |
| Hollo there! Silence! We rehearse! |
| CYRANO (laughing): |
| We go! |
| (He moves away. By the big door enter Cuigy, Brissaille, and some officers, |
| holding up Ligniere, who is drunk.) |
| CUIGY: |
| Cyrano! |
| CYRANO: |
| Well, what now? |
| CUIGY: |
| A lusty thrush |
| They're bringing you! |
| CYRANO (recognizing him): |
| Ligniere!. . .What has chanced? |
| CUIGY: |
| He seeks you! |
| BRISSAILLE: |
| He dare not go home! |
| CYRANO: |
| Why not? |
| LIGNIERE (in a husky voice, showing him a crumpled letter): |
| This letter warns me. . .that a hundred men. . . |
| Revenge that threatens me. . .that song, you know— |
| At the Porte de Nesle. To get to my own house |
| I must pass there. . .I dare not!. . .Give me leave |
| To sleep to-night beneath your roof! Allow. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| A hundred men? You'll sleep in your own bed! |
| LIGNIERE (frightened): |
| But— |
| CYRANO (in a terrible voice, showing him the lighted lantern held by the |
| porter, who is listening curiously): |
| Take the lantern. |
| (Ligniere seizes it): |
| Let us start! I swear |
| That I will make your bed to-night myself! |
| (To the officers): |
| Follow; some stay behind, as witnesses! |
| CUIGY: |
| A hundred!. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| Less, to-night—would be too few! |
| (The actors and actresses, in their costumes, have come down from the stage, |
| and are listening.) |
| LE BRET: |
| But why embroil yourself? |
| CYRANO: |
| Le Bret who scolds! |
| LE BRET: |
| That worthless drunkard!— |
| CYRANO (slapping Ligniere on the shoulder): |
| Wherefore? For this cause;— |
| This wine-barrel, this cask of Burgundy, |
| Did, on a day, an action full of grace; |
| As he was leaving church, he saw his love |
| Take holy water—he, who is affeared |
| At water's taste, ran quickly to the stoup, |
| And drank it all, to the last drop!. . . |
| AN ACTRESS: |
| Indeed, that was a graceful thing! |
| CYRANO: |
| Ay, was it not? |
| THE ACTRESS (to the others): |
| But why a hundred men 'gainst one poor rhymer? |
| CYRANO: |
| March! |
| (To the officers): |
| Gentlemen, when you shall see me charge, |
| Bear me no succor, none, whate'er the odds! |
| ANOTHER ACTRESS (jumping from the stage): |
| Oh! I shall come and see! |
| CYRANO: |
| Come, then! |
| ANOTHER (jumping down—to an old actor): |
| And you?. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| Come all—the Doctor, Isabel, Leander, |
| Come, for you shall add, in a motley swarm, |
| The farce Italian to this Spanish drama! |
| ALL THE WOMEN (dancing for joy): |
| Bravo!—a mantle, quick!—my hood! |
| JODELET: |
| Come on! |
| CYRANO: |
| Play us a march, gentlemen of the band! |
| (The violinists join the procession, which is forming. They take the |
| footlights, and divide them for torches): |
| Brave officers! next, women in costume, |
| And, twenty paces on— |
| (He takes his place): |
| I all alone, |
| Beneath the plume that Glory lends, herself, |
| To deck my beaver—proud as Scipio!. . . |
| —You hear me?—I forbid you succor me!— |
| One, two three! Porter, open wide the doors! |
| (The porter opens the doors; a view of old Paris in the moonlight is seen): |
| Ah!. . .Paris wrapped in night! half nebulous: |
| The moonlight streams o'er the blue-shadowed roofs; |
| A lovely frame for this wild battle-scene; |
| Beneath the vapor's floating scarves, the Seine |
| Trembles, mysterious, like a magic mirror, |
| And, shortly, you shall see what you shall see! |
| ALL: |
| To the Porte de Nesle! |
| CYRANO (standing on the threshold): |
| Ay, to the Porte de Nesle! |
| (Turning to the actress): |
| Did you not ask, young lady, for what cause |
| Against this rhymer fivescore men were sent? |
| (He draws his sword; then, calmly): |
| 'Twas that they knew him for a friend of mine! |
| (He goes out. Ligniere staggers first after him, then the actresses on the |
| officers' arms—the actors. The procession starts to the sound of the violins |
| and in the faint light of the candles.) |
| Curtain.: |
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