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.
Bravo!—a mantle, quick!—my hood! Come on!
Cyrano.
Play us a march, gentlemen of the band!
Brave officers! next, women in costume,
And, twenty paces on—
[He takes his place.]
And, twenty paces on— I, all alone,
Beneath the plume that Glory lends, herself,
To deck my beaver,—proud as Scipio!…
—You hear me?—I forbid you succour 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 vapour's floating scarves, the Seine
Trembles, mysterious, like a magic mirror,
And, shortly, you shall see what you shall see!
