CYRANO (still stepping backward):
Or—for I have some mechanic skill—
To make a grasshopper, with springs of steel,
And launch myself by quick succeeding fires
Saltpeter-fed to the stars’ pastures blue!
DE GUICHE (unconsciously following him and counting on his fingers):
Three!
CYRANO:
Or (since fumes have property to mount)—
To charge a globe with fumes, sufficiently
To carry me aloft!
DE GUICHE (same play, more and more astonished):
Well, that makes four!
CYRANO:
Or smear myself with marrow from a bull,
Since, at the lowest point of Zodiac,
Phoebus well loves to suck that marrow up!
DE GUICHE (amazed):
Five!
CYRANO (who, while speaking, had drawn him to the other side of the square near a bench):
Sitting on an iron platform—thence
To throw a magnet in the air. This is
A method well conceived—the magnet flown,
Infallibly the iron will pursue:
Then quick! relaunch your magnet, and you thus
Can mount and mount unmeasured distances!
DE GUICHE:
Here are six excellent expedients!
Which of the six chose you?
CYRANO:
Why, none!—a seventh!
DE GUICHE:
Astonishing! What was it?