The Precieuses
[in the boxes].
A doit! I’m glad to interrupt… Our Baro!—
My dear! How dares he venture!…
Cyrano
[turning his chair towards the boxes, gallantly].
My dear! How dares he venture!… Fairest ones,
Radiate, bloom, hold to our lips the cup
Of dreams intoxicating, Hebe-like!
Or, when death strikes, charm death with your sweet smiles;
Inspire our verse, but—criticise it not!
Bellerose.
We must give back the entrance fees!
Cyrano
[turning his chair towards the stage.]
We must give back the entrance fees! 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].
Ah! Oh! At this price, you've authority
To come each night, and stop Clorise, Sir!
