DE GUICHE (angrily):
No, no!
I want. . .
CYRANO:
Ha, ha!—to know how I got up?
Hark, it was by a method all my own.
DE GUICHE (wearied):
He’s mad!
CYRANO(contemptuously):
No! not for me the stupid eagle
Of Regiomontanus, nor the timid
Pigeon of Archytas—neither of those!
DE GUICHE:
Ay, ’tis a fool! But ’tis a learned fool!
CYRANO:
No imitator I of other men!
(De Guiche has succeeded in getting by, and goes toward Roxane’s door. Cyrano follows him, ready to stop him by force):
Six novel methods, all, this brain invented!
DE GUICHE (turning round):
Six?
CYRANO (volubly):
First, with body naked as your hand,
Festooned about with crystal flacons, full
O’ th’ tears the early morning dew distils;
My body to the sun’s fierce rays exposed
To let it suck me up, as ’t sucks the dew!
DE GUICHE (surprised, making one step toward Cyrano):
Ah! that makes one!
CYRANO (stepping back, and enticing him further away):
And then, the second way,
To generate wind—for my impetus—
To rarefy air, in a cedar case,
By mirrors placed icosahedron-wise.
DE GUICHE (making another step):
Two!