Cyrano
[growing whiter and whiter].
The nineteenth: having eaten to excess
Of pear-conserve, the King felt feverish;
The lancet quelled this treasonable revolt,
And the august pulse beats at normal pace.
At the Queen's ball on Sunday thirty score
Of best white waxen tapers were consumed.
Our troops, they say, have chased the Austrians.
Four sorcerers were hanged. The little dog
Of Madame d'Athis took a dose…
Roxane.
You hold your tongue, Monsieur de Bergerac!
Cyrano.
Monday—not much—Claire changed protector.
Roxane.
Cyrano
[whose face changes more and more].
Tuesday, the Court repaired to Fontainebleau.
Wednesday, the Montglat said to Comte de Fiesque…
No! Thursday—Mancini, Queen of France! (almost!)
Friday, the Montglat to Count Fiesque said—'Yes!'
And Saturday the twenty-sixth…
[He closes his eyes. His head falls forward. Silence.]
