Cyrano de Bergerac

Thrice happy he who hides

from pomp and power

in sylvan shade

or solitary bower

where balmy zephyrs

fan his burning cheeks...

- Clown! The king of clowns!

Leave the stage at once!

Who is it?

It's Cyrano.

I was afraid he'd do this.

Thrice happy he

who hides from pomp and power...

- Wretch! Did I not forbid

you to appear this month?

- Let's be quiet.

- Quiet!

Go on Montfleury.

Thrice happy he who...

He who, indeed.

Donkeys say rather Hee-Haw!

Begone! Or must I come and

help you off the stage myself?

What! Still there?

Where balmy zephyrs

fan his burning cheeks...

Fat swine, if you dare breathe

on balmy zephyr more

I'll fan your cheeks

for you!

Monsieur, won't you all

protect me?

- Proceed, proceed.

- Go on.

Sir, I will not allow you

to insult me in this manner.

Really?

What manner would you prefer?

Quiet, down there!

- We'll tolerate

no more of this.

Go on with the play,

Montfleury.

Unless these gentlemen

retain your seats

my sword may

bite their ribbons.

Who is this braggart?

My cousin, sir.

Well, Montfleury,

still no exit?

- Very well then,

I enter

with knife, to carve

this fat, stuffed goose.

I pray, do not crowd

my scabbard here.

She may put her

tongue out at you.

Silence.

I say be silent!

And I offer one universal

challenge to you all:

Will all who wish to die,

please raise their hands.

Approach, young heroes.

I will take your names.

To the first man who falls

I'll build a monument.

Who will head the list?

You, sir?

No.

You?

No, no.

Anyone?

Anyone at all?

Not one...name?

Not one finger?

Very well then,

I go on.

Attend to me, Full Moon.

I clap my hands three times, thus.

At the third, you will...

eclipse yourself.

Ready!

One.

How dare you.

I demand!

I insist.

- I call upon all the nobles...

- Two!

This is an outrage.

You hear, an outrage.

Nothing on earth

will move me from this stage.

Three!

Fair ladies and noble gentlemen...

- Boo!

But, Monsieur de Bergerac,

why have you done this

to our Montfleury, an admirable actor?

I have two reasons,

either one conclusive.

First, he is an

abominable actor,

who mouths his verse

and moans his tragedy.

Second,...

Well, that's my secret.

But...

But you've closed the play!

It is not a very good play.

Huh!

And of their money?

Possibly you would like

that returned to these good people.

Yes?

Yes.

Here,...catch!

Well, Monsieur, you are hereby

authorized to close our play every night.

On these terms.

Ladies and gentlemen,

your money will be returned.

Kindly pass out, quietly.

Goodnight, goodnight.

Your cousin is an

extraordinary man, Madame.

Oh, I agree.

Soldier, poet, philosopher,

musician, playwright.

All those?

Yes, and the best

swordsman in Paris.

Really?

Now, I should have thought

the Vicomte here had that honor.

Tell me, Madame, that

comic mask, that nose,

presently he will take it off?

No, Monsieur, he keeps it.

And heaven help

the man who smiles.

Good night.

Oh, Monsieur!

Monsieur!

Uh, when do you leave Paris?

Sir?

Why, after what you've

just done to Montfleury,

did you not know that

the Compte de Guiche was his patron?

Who's yours?

No one.

No one?

No patron?

I said not.

But the Compte de Guiche

has a long arm.

Mine is longer

by three feet of steel.

Yes, but.

but, what a scare...

You may go now.

- but...

- You may go.

Well, tell me,

why are you staring at my nose?

Oh, I was not staring.

Does it astonish you?

Why n...Why no, I've been careful

not to look.

Oh, and why not, if you please?

It disgusts you, then?

But, no, I just...

Does its color appear

to you unwholesome?

By no means.

Then, possibly you find it

just a trifle large?

No, small, very small, tiny!

Infinitesimal!

What?

You accuse me of absurdity?

Small, my nose?

Why magnificent, my nose!

You pug, you knob,

you button head,

know that I glory

in this nose of mine!

For a great nose

indicates a great man,

congenial, courteous,

intellectual, virile, courageous.

Whilst that face of yours,

that blank, inglorious concavity

which my right hand finds on top of you,

is as devoid of pride, of poetry,

of soul, of picturesqueness,

of contour, of character,

of nose, in short,

As that which is at the bottom of that limp,

spine of yours my left foot.- Oh, help!

Presently, this fellow

will grow tiresome.

Oh, he blows his horn.

- Well, will no one

put him in his place?

If you would all me.

Observe.

Monsieur, your nose,

your nose is rather large.

Rather?

Oh, well.

Is that all?

Well, of course, you...

Ah, no young sir, you're too simple.

Why, you might have

said a great many things.

Why waste your opportunity?

For example, thus...

Aggressive-

I, sir, if that great nose were mine,

I would have it amputated on the spot.

Practical-

How do you drink with such a nose.

You must have had a cup made especially.

Descriptive-

'Tis a rock, a crag, a cape.

A cape, say rather, a peninsula.

Inquisitive-

Uh, what is that receptacle,

a razor case or a portfolio?

Kindly-

Ah, do you love the little birds so much

that when they come and sing to you,

you give them this to perch on?

Cautious-

Take care. A weight like that

might make you top-heavy.

Eloquent-

When it blows the typhoon howls

and the clouds darken.

Dramatic-

When it bleeds...the Red Sea.

Simple-

Eh, when do they

unveil the monument?

Military-

Beware, a secret weapon!

Enterprising-

What a sigh for some perfumer!

Respectful-

Uh sir, I recognize in you

a man of parts,

a man of...prominence.

Or, Literary-

Was this the nose

that launched a thousand ships?

These, my dear sir, are things

you might have said had you

some tinge of letters or of wit

to color your discourse.

Bit wit not so.

You never had an atom.

And of letters, you need

but three to write you down, a..s..s.

Ass.

You, sir!

Dolt! Bumpkin! Fool!

How do you do, and I,

Cyrano Savinien Hercule de Bergerac.

Vicomte, come.

Such arrogance.

This scarecrow who...

Look at him!

No ribbons. No lace.

Not even gloves!

True. I carry my adornments

only on my soul.

Decked with deeds

instead of ribbons.

Mantled in my good name,

and crowned with a

white plume of freedom.

But..

But, I have no gloves.

A pity, too.

I had one, the last one of an old pair,

and lost that.

Very careless of me.

Some gentleman offered me

an impertinence.

I left it in his face.

So be it!

You shall die exquisitely

Oh, a poet.

Oh, yes, a poet if you will.

So, uh, while we fight,

I'll improvise a ballad for you,

and as I end the refrain,

...skhrch!...thrust home.

Will you?

I will.

Ballad au Duel

at the Theatre de Burgoyne

between de Bergerac,

and uh...a barbarian.

What do you mean by that?

Oh, that?

The title.

Stop. Let me choose my rhyme.

So. Here we go.

Lightly I toss my hat away.

Languidly o'er my arm let fall

the cloak that covers my bright array.

Then, out swords,

and to work withal.

A Lancelot in his lady's hall,

A Spartacus at the Hippodrome,

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