CYRANO (turning his chair toward the stage): Bellerose, You make the first intelligent remark! Would I rend Thespis' sacred mantle? Nay! (He rises and throws a bag on the stage): Catch then the purse I throw, and hold your peace! THE HOUSE (dazzled): Ah! Oh! JODELET (catching the purse dexterously and weighing it): At this price, you've authority To come each night, and stop 'Clorise,' Sir! THE PIT: Ho!. . .Ho! Ho!. . . JODELET: E'en if you chase us in a pack!. . . BELLEROSE: Clear out the hall!. . . JODELET: Get you all gone at once! (The people begin to go out, while Cyrano looks on with satisfaction. But the crowd soon stop on hearing the following scene, and remain where they are. The women, who, with their mantles on, are already standing up in the boxes, stop to listen, and finally reseat themselves.) LE BRET (to Cyrano): 'Tis mad!. . . A BORE (coming up to Cyrano): The actor Montfleury! 'Tis shameful! Why, he's protected by the Duke of Candal! Have you a patron? CYRANO: No! THE BORE: No patron?. . . CYRANO: None! THE BORE: What! no great lord to shield you with his name? CYRANO (irritated): No, I have told you twice! Must I repeat? No! no protector. . . (His hand on his sword): A protectress. . .here! THE BORE: But you must leave the town? CYRANO: Well, that depends! THE BORE: The Duke has a long arm! CYRANO: But not so long As mine, when it is lengthened out. . . (Shows his sword): As thus! THE BORE: You think not to contend? CYRANO: 'Tis my idea! THE BORE: But. . . CYRANO: Show your heels! now! THE BORE: But I. . . CYRANO: Or tell me why you stare so at my nose! THE BORE (staggered): I. . . CYRANO (walking straight up to him): Well, what is there strange? THE BORE (drawing back): Your Grace mistakes! CYRANO: How now? Is't soft and dangling, like a trunk?. . . THE BORE (same play): I never. . . CYRANO: Is it crook'd, like an owl's beak? THE BORE: I. . . CYRANO: Do you see a wart upon the tip? THE BORE: Nay. . . CYRANO: Or a fly, that takes the air there? What Is there to stare at? THE BORE: Oh. . . CYRANO: What do you see? THE BORE: But I was careful not to look--knew better. CYRANO: And why not look at it, an if you please? THE BORE: I was. . . CYRANO: Oh! it disgusts you! THE BORE: Sir! CYRANO: Its hue Unwholesome seems to you? THE BORE: Sir! CYRANO: Or its shape? THE BORE: No, on the contrary!. . . CYRANO: Why then that air Disparaging?--perchance you think it large? THE BORE (stammering): No, small, quite small--minute! CYRANO: Minute! What now? Accuse me of a thing ridiculous! Small--my nose? THE BORE: Heaven help me!