Cyrano de Bergerac Page #5

the words I gave you day by day?

Send to her

the letters that I write?

I mean, that Roxane

should have no disillusionment.

Come, shall we win her

both together?

For you?

- Why, Cyrano...

- Christian, why not?

I...I'm afraid.

Afraid that when you

have her all alone, you will lose her.

Have not fear,

it is your self she loves.

Give her yourself.

Put into words,

my words...upon your lips.

Will you?

Will you?

Does it mean

so much to you?

It means...

It means a comedy,

a situation for a poet.

Come, shall we collaborate?

I'll be your cloak of darkness,

your enchanted sword,

your ring to charm

the fairy princess.

Think!

Is the prize not worth the danger?

My friend!

My friend.

Take my heart.

I shall have it all the more.

Plucking the flowers,

we will keep the plant in bloom.

Thus do I love thee,

my darling.

Idiot.

There are a dozen

ways to read that line.

Can't you give it some meaning?

Any meaning!

THUS do I love thee!

Thus do "I" love thee.

Thus do I LOVE thee.

Thus do I love THEE,

THEE, THEE.

Who knows your smile

has known a perfect thing.

You are a white rose,

wherein love lies in ambush

for its natural prey.

In the garden of my heart,

you are the most...

eh, the most...

fragrant blossom.

As the tender sapling

thirsts for rain,

as the eagle seeks the sky,

as the wave

hurtles toward the shore,

my heart yearns for you.

Good, good.

You know, you're beginning

to have a feel for words.

- Words. I'm sick of words.

- Those are your weapons.

How else do you conquer?

Yes, but when, when?

They're fighting in the north, now.

You know that.

The Regiment will be

called up any day,

and I've never

even kissed her.

Patience, my boy, patience.

I've been patient.

Why, she sees the Compte de Guiche

as often as she does me.

Do you suppose

she's playing with me?

Making a fool of me?

Impossible.

How can you say?

How do you know?

Cyrano, you have her confidence.

You could find out.

Nonsense, I say.

Oh, very well.

I'll scout the terrain.

Listen, Cyrano,

intelligently, discreetly.

Yes.

With finesse.

And, uh, what do you think

of Christian after all these weeks?

He is beautiful,

but he's brilliant.

- And I love him.

- Good!

Uh, do you find him intellectual?

- More so than you, even.

- Huh?

- Oh, I didn't mean.

- No, no, no, I am glad.

No man ever so beautifully

said those things.

Those pretty nothings

to everything.

Sometimes, he,. he, he falls

into a reverie.

His inspiration..fails.

But, then all at once,

he will say something absolutely...

Ah!

Really?

How like a man!

You think because a man

has a handsome face he must be a fool.

Not necessarily.

Uh, he talks well about, uh,

matters of the heart?

He does not talk.

He rhapsodizes. He dreams.

Only the other night he said to me,

extemporaneously, mind you.

Oh, of course.

'Take my heart.

I shall have it all the more.

'Plucking the flowers

we will keep the plants in bloom.'

Well?

Umm, passable.

He writes well?

Wonderfully, listen:

'Knowing you have in store

more heart to give

- 'than I to find heart room...'

- The first he has too much heart,

then too little. Just how much heart

does he need?

You are teasing.

You are jealous!

Jealous?

Yes.

Poets are all alike.

Would you dare

criticize these lines?

'Only believe that unto you

my whole heart gives one cry.

'And writing, writes down

more than you receive.

'Sending you kisses

through my fingertips.

'Lady, oh, read my letter

with your lips.'

Yes, those last lines,

but he overwrites.

Listen to this.

Do you know

them all by heart?

Every one.

Well, I may call

that flattering.

He is a master.

- Oh, come..

- Yes, a master.

Huh, a master,...

if you will.

And, uh, when do you

bestow the laurel wreath?

How many prodigies of poetry

must this new Hercules perform?

I do not know.

My friend, you men own the world

and all that's in it.

Woman is at best a prize, a property

valued much the same as a horse or a dog,

unlike the pear and sheen of skin

and soundness of teeth and limb.

Well, if I must be chattel,

then the terms shall be mine,

and the price according

to my own values.

There.

I see.

Christian tells me

that you meet tonight.

What would you have him

speak about?

Oh, nothing,

and everything.

I shall say, speak to me

of love in your own words.

Improvise, rhapsodize.

Be eloquent.

But you will not tell him,

will you?

Ah, perish the thought.

Madame, Compte de Guiche.

Madame.

Monsieur.

Madame.

Monsieur.

- Christian, quick.

- No.

There's still time to learn your lines.

No.

I have some brilliant phrases for you,

brilliant, sensitive...

No.

I'll have not more of it.

Taking all my words, my sentences

all from you,

- making our love a little comedy.

- Don't you real...

It was a game at first,

but now she cares.

Huh?

Thanks to you.

Uh.

I'm not afraid any longer.

I'll speak for myself, now.

Oh, undoubtedly.

I will. You shall see!

Besides, I know enough

to take a woman in my arms,

and tonight, I will.

Christian!

Thank you, my friend,

and goodbye.

- Christian, I beg of you.

- Leave me!

- You're making a grave error.

- Go away!

So be it.

Christian.

Roxane.

I'm so glad you are early.

Let us stay out here

in the moonlight.

It's so pleasant.

Sit down.

There, so.

Now, speak to me.

I love you.

Yes, speak to me of love.

I...love you.

Now, be eloquent.

Be brilliant for me.

Tonight of all nights.

I love you...so.

You have your scene.

Now, improvise, rhapsodize.

I love you...

very much!

I ask for cream,

and you give me milk and water.

Tell me firstly,

how you love me.

Very much!

Is that all you feel?

Your throat, if only

I might kiss it.

Christian!

But, Roxane, I love you.

Again.

No, not again.

I do not love you.

That is better.

I...I adore you!

Oh!

I know I grow absurd.

And that distresses me as much

as if you had grown ugly!

Please. Gather your dreams

together into words.

I...um, I...

I know. You love me!

Good night!

Oh, but wait, please!

I was going to say...

That you adore me.

Yes, I know that, too.

-No, go away.

- I...

A great success.

Help me.

Not I.

Speak for yourself, my friend.

Why I...I can't.

Well, at least you know enough

to take a woman in your arms.

Oh, Cyrano, please!

What, and make your love

a little comedy.

Cyrano, I cannot live

unless I win her back, now.

This moment!

This moment. How the devil

am I to teach you now, this mo...

Her window.

- Help me, Cyrano, help me.

- Shhhh.

It does seem fairly dark.

Well? Well?

It is more than you deserve.

must try out what can be done.

Stand over there.

Idiot, here, before the

balcony. I'll whisper you what to say.

- She'll hear..

- Shhhh. Call her.

Roxane.

Roxane.

Who's calling?

Christian.

You again.

I...had to tell you.

No. Go away.

You tell me nothing.

Please.

You do not

love me anymore.

No, not anymore.

I love you evermore,

and everymore and more.

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