hose poor fellows who have not breakfasted free to eat, even
while I gratify my own dearest foible, see you?

CYRANO (clapping him on the shoulder):
Friend, I like you right well!. . .
(Ragueneau goes after his friends. Cyrano follows him with his eyes, then,
rather sharply):
Ho there! Lise!
(Lise, who is talking tenderly to the musketeer, starts, and comes down toward
Cyrano):
So this fine captain is laying siege to you?

LISE (offended):
One haughty glance of my eye can conquer any man that should dare venture
aught 'gainst my virtue.

CYRANO:
Pooh! Conquering eyes, methinks, are oft conquered eyes.

LISE (choking with anger):
But--

CYRANO (incisively):
I like Ragueneau well, and so--mark me, Dame Lise--I permit not that he be
rendered a laughing-stock by any. . .

LISE:
But. . .

CYRANO (who has raised his voice so as to be heard by the gallant):
A word to the wise. . .

(He bows to the musketeer, and goes to the doorway to watch, after looking at
the clock.)

LISE (to the musketeer, who has merely bowed in answer to Cyrano's bow):
How now? Is this your courage?. . .Why turn you not a jest on his nose?

THE MUSKETEER:
On his nose?. . .ay, ay. . .his nose.

(He goes quickly farther away; Lise follows him.)

CYRANO (from the doorway, signing to Ragueneau to draw the poets away):
Hist!. . .

RAGUENEAU (showing them the door on the right):
We shall be more private there. . .

CYRANO (impatiently):
Hist! Hist!. . .

RAGUENEAU (drawing them farther):
To read poetry, 'tis better here. . .

FIRST POET (despairingly, with his mouth full):
What! leave the cakes?. . .

SECOND POET:
Never! Let's take them with us!

(They all follow Ragueneau in procession, after sweeping all the cakes off the
trays.)

Scene 2.V.

Cyrano, Roxane, the duenna.

CYRANO:
Ah! if I see but the faint glimmer of hope, then I draw out my letter!
(Roxane, masked, followed by the duenna, appears at the glass pane of the
door. He opens quickly):
Enter!. . .
(Walking up to the duenna):
Two words with you, Duenna.

THE DUENNA:
Four, Sir, an it like you.

CYRANO:
Are you fond of sweet things?

THE DUENNA:
Ay, I could eat myself sick on them!

CYRANO (catching up some of the paper bags from the counter):
Good. See you these two sonnets of Monsieur Beuserade. . .

THE DUENNA:
Hey?

CYRANO:
. . .Which I fill for you with cream cakes!

THE DUENN