Cryano de Bergerac

Edmond Rostand

Truly, I should not look to find his portrait
By the grave hand of Philippe de Champagne.
He might have been a model for Callot--
One of those wild swashbucklers in a masque--
Hat with three plumes, and doublet with six points--
His cloak behind him over his long sword
Cocked, like the tail of strutting Chanticleer--
Prouder than all the swaggering Tamburlaines
Hatched out of Gascony. And to complete
This Punchinello figure--such a nose!--
My lords, there is no such nose as that nose--
You cannot look upon it without crying: "Oh, no,
Impossible! Exaggerated!" Then
You smile, and say: "Of course--I might have known;
Presently he will take it off." But that
Monsieur de Bergerac will never do.

(After a pause) And you brought me here to tell me this?
I do not yet quite understand, Madame,
The reason for your confidence.

Hush--absurd! How can you know?
I thought I loved you, ever since one night
When a voice that I never would have known
Under my window breathed your soul to me...
But--all this time, your letters--every one
Was like hearing your voice there in the dark,
All around me, like your arms around me...
(More lightly)
I came. Anyone would! Do you suppose
The prim Penelope had stayed at home
Embroidering,--if Ulysses wrote like you?
She would have fallen like another Helen--
Tucked up those linen petticoats of hers
And followed him to Troy!

I want her love
For the poor fool I am--or not at all!
Oh, I am going through with this! I'll know,
One way or the other. Now I shall walk down
To the end of the post. Go tell her. Let her choose
One of us.

Yes--that has been my life....
Do you remember that night Christian spoke
Under your window? It was always so!
While I stood in the darkness underneath,
Others climbed up to win the applause--the kiss!--
Well--that seems only justice--I will say,
Even now, on the threshold of my tomb--
"Moliere has genius--Christian has good looks--"
(The chapel bell is ringing. Along the avenue of trees above the stairway, the Nuns pass in procession to their prayers.)
They are going to pray now; there is the bell.

Cyrano will break your heart; Cyrano will crack the dam in your eyes; Cyrano will cry out words of weight and wisdom; Cyrano will walk the mile; Cyrano will save your life; Cyrano will wait with you till death; Cyrano will hold your hand; Cyrano will bear the load; Cyrano will kneel--but because of his nose...ah well, Cyrano will simply never be...

(More and more delirious)
"Very well,
But what the devil was he doing there?--
What the devil was he doing there, up there?"....
(He declaims)
Philosopher and scientist,
Poet, musician, duellist--
He flew high, and fell back again!
A pretty wit--whose like we lack--
A lover...not like other men....
Here lies Hercule-Savinien
De Cyrano de Bergerac--
Who was all things--and all in vain!
Well I must go--pardon--I cannot stay!
My moonbeam comes to carry me away....

Was this Cyrano a good life? Knowing love, he never knew love. That seems to be the threat of the play. Would you be Cyrano if you could? Who else better would you be? Michael Jackson was Cyrano, but that one is too obvious. You know Cyrano, he's walking all over the city. Can you see him? It's hard sometimes not to confuse Cyrano with the lepers, but he's not a leper. Do you think Mark Twain was Cyrano? There are many bumps on life's wheel that are being ground down, not all of them are Cyrano, but aren't many? We wish them normal, but wish them not. Would you have been Cyrano de Bergerac if you could? Before you choose, remember that he took the road that rises. He took it as far as he could.