Cyrano de Bergerac
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Quotes for
Cyrano de Bergerac (Character)
from Cyrano de Bergerac (1950)

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Cyrano de Bergerac (1990)
Cyrano: My nose precedes me by fifteen minutes.

Cyrano: My dear love, I never loved you!

Cyrano: I made a mess of everything, even my death.

Cyrano: My life's work has been to prompt others and be forgotten. Remember that night when Christian came to your balcony? That moment sums up my life. While I was below in the shadows, others climbed up to kiss the sweet rose.

Cyrano: And tonight when I, at last, God behold, my salute will sweep his blue threshhold with something spotless. A diamond in the ash which I take in spite of you; and that is my panache.

Cyrano: I say as death has me in his hooks, Moliere' has genius and Christian had good looks.

Cyrano: In a poets pocket you often find the product of an active imagination.

Roxane: 100 men... what courage!
Cyrano: Oh, I have been braver since then.

Comte De Guiche: Sir, have you read Don Quixote?
Cyrano: I've practically lived it!

Cyrano: Lug your guts away, salami, or stay and I'll remove you slice by slice!

Cyrano: I wish to see the stage cured of this affliction... and here is the lancet!

Ragueneau: No Cyrano. I lose my bet.
Le Bret: So much the better.
Audience: Montfleury! Montfleury!
Montfleury: Happy he... who far from court and city... Ah, how good... breathes the essence of the vernal wood, And who, when the breeze sings melodies...
Cyrano: Rogue! Didn't I order you off for a month?
Montfleury: What? Who's that?
Le Bret: Cyrano!
Ragueneau: I win!
Cyrano: King of fools. Off the stage!
Montfleury: Monsieur...

Cyrano: I'm losing my temper.
Montfleury: Help me gentlemen.

Cyrano: Discontinue, unless he needs disembowelling! Off with him!
Le Bret: Monsieur...

Cyrano: So, perhaps, after all, happiness...
Roxane: What?
Cyrano: Listen, Roxanne... I want to...
Roxane: Christian!

Cyrano: I'm in love... but it was meant to be! The finest-looking one there is! I feel triumphant... forgetful... and I suddenly see the side of my face shaded off the garden wall.

[last lines]
Cyrano: You take everything... The laurel and the rose too! Go on, take them! But, in spite of you one thing goes with me now. And tonight, when I at last God behold my salute will sweep his blue threshold with something spotless, a diamond in the ash... which I take in spite of you and that's... My panache.

Roxane: Why keep your silence for so long when all the time the tears on the letter were yours?
Cyrano: The blood was his.

Cyrano: I told her everything
[he hasn't]
Cyrano: , it's you she loves.
[Christian dies]


Cyrano de Bergerac (1950)
[first lines]
Montfleury: Thrice happy he who hides from pomp and power/ In sylvan shade or or solitary bower/ Where balmy zephyrs fan his burning cheeks...
Cyrano de Bergerac: Clown! King of Clowns! Leave the stage at once!

Montfleury: Sir, I will not allow you to insult me in this manner.
Cyrano de Bergerac: Really? In what manner would you prefer?

Cyrano de Bergerac: Very well, let the old fellow come now. He shall find me on my feet sword in hand.
Roxane: Cyrano!
Le Bret: He's delirious.
Cyrano de Bergerac: I can see him now - he grins. He is looking at my nose, that skeleton. You there - who are you? A hundred against one, eh? I know them now, my ancient enemies...
[Cyrano thrusts his sword at the empty air]
Cyrano de Bergerac: Falsehood! There! There! Prejudice! Compromise! Cowardice! What's that? Surrender? No! Never! Never!
[He slashes his sword wildly]
Cyrano de Bergerac: Ah, you too, Vanity? I knew you would overthrow me in the end. No! I fight on! I fight on! I fight on!

[last lines]
Cyrano de Bergerac: All my laurels you have riven away... and my roses; yet in spite of you there is one crown I bear away with me. And tonight, when I enter before God, my salute shall sweep away all the stars from the blue threshold! One thing without stain, unspotted from the world in spite of doom mine own
[he raises his hand high]
Cyrano de Bergerac: and that is... my white plume.

Cyrano de Bergerac: You may go. / Or tell me, why are you staring at my nose?
The Meddler: No!
Cyrano de Bergerac: It disgusts you, then? Does its color appear to you unwholesome? / Or its form obscene?
The Meddler: But I've been careful not to look!
Cyrano de Bergerac: And why not if you please? / Possibly you find it just a trifle large!

Cyrano de Bergerac: [dueling with Valvert] Prince, pray God that is Lord of all, Pardon your soul, for your time has come, Beat, pass! I fling you aslant, asprawl, Then as I end the refrain, thrust home!

Antoine Comte de Guiche: As for you sir, have you read "Don Quixote"?
Cyrano de Bergerac: I have, and found myself the hero.
Antoine Comte de Guiche: Be so good as to read once more the chapter of the windmills...
Cyrano de Bergerac: Chapter thirteen!
Antoine Comte de Guiche: Windmills, remember, if you fight with them... may swing round their huge arms and cast you down into the mire!
Cyrano de Bergerac: Or up, among the stars!

Christian de Neuvillette: [Cyrano is coaching Christian, and Christian is reciting badly what Cyrano has written] "Thus do I love thee."
Cyrano de Bergerac: Idiot! There are a dozen ways to read that line - "*Thus* do I love thee"; "Thus do *I* love thee", "Thus do I love *thee*! *thee*! *thee*!"

Duenna: [Cyrano is trying to talk to Roxanne in private, when her Duenna enters] I have eaten the cakes, Monsieur de Bergerac.
Cyrano de Bergerac: [pushing her out the door] Good. Now go out and enjoy Nature.

Vicomte de Valvert: [to Cyrano] Dolt! Insolent puppy! Jabbernowl!
Cyrano de Bergerac: [bowing, sarcastically] How do you do? And I - Cyrano Savinien Hercule de Bergerac!

Cyrano de Bergerac: Think of me./ Me whom the plainest woman would despise./ Me with this nose of mine that marches on/ Before me by a quarter of an hour./Whom should I love? Why of course it must be/ The woman in the world most beautiful.
Le Bret: Most beautiful?
Cyrano de Bergerac: In these eyes of mine, beyond compare.
Le Bret: Wait! Your cousin - Roxane!
Cyrano de Bergerac: Yes. Roxane.

Cyrano de Bergerac: [referring to Montfleury] Very well, then; I enter, with knife, to carve this fat stuffed goose!

Le Bret: Look at me, twenty years a captain, while others, who know only how to deploy their forces at court, now dangle a marshal's baton.
Cyrano de Bergerac: [smiling] Hmm... , well, someday I will avenge you too.

Vicomte de Valvert: Monsieur, your nose... your nose is rather large.
Cyrano de Bergerac: Rather?
Vicomte de Valvert: Oh, well...
Cyrano de Bergerac: Is that all?
Vicomte de Valvert: Well of course...
Cyrano de Bergerac: Oh, no, young sir. You are too simple. Why, you might have said a great many things. Why waste your opportunity? For example, thus: AGGRESSIVE: I, sir, if that nose were mine, I'd have it amputated on the spot. PRACTICAL: How do you drink with such a nose? You must have had a cup made especially. DESCRIPTIVE: 'Tis a rock, a crag, a cape! A cape? Say rather, a peninsula! INQUISITIVE: What is that receptacle? A razor case or a portfolio? KINDLY: Ah, do you love the little birds so much that when they come to see you, you give them this to perch on. CAUTIOUS: Take care! A weight like that might make you top-heavy. ELOQUENT: When it blows, the typhoon howls, and the clouds darken! DRAMATIC: When it bleeds, the Red Sea. SIMPLE: When do they unveil the monument? MILITARY: Beware, a secret weapon. ENTERPRISING: What a sign for some perfumer! RESPECTFUL: Sir, I recognize in you a man of parts. A man of... prominence! Or, LITERARY: Was this the nose that launched a thousand ships? These, my dear sir, are things you might have said, had you some tinge of letters or of wit to color your discourse. But wit? Not so, you never had an atom. And of letters, you need but three to write you down: A, S, S. Ass!
Vicomte de Valvert: Insolent puppy, dolt, bunpkin, fool!
Cyrano de Bergerac: How do you do? And I, Cyrano Savinien Hercule de Bergerac.
Antoine Comte de Guiche: Vicomte, come.
Vicomte de Valvert: Such arrogance, this scarecrow. Look at him! No ribbons, no lace, not even gloves!
Cyrano de Bergerac: True! I carry my adornments only on my soul, decked with deeds instead of ribbons. Manful in my good name, and crowned with the white plume of freedom.
Vicomte de Valvert: But...
Cyrano de Bergerac: But, I have no gloves. A pity too. I had one - the last of an old pair - and lost that. Very careless of me. A gentleman offered me an impertinence. I left it - in his face.
Vicomte de Valvert: [Drawing his rapier] So be it!
Cyrano de Bergerac: You shall die exquisitely!
Vicomte de Valvert: Oh, a poet?
Cyrano de Bergerac: Oh, yes, a poet. So, while we fight, I'll improvise a ballade for you, and as I end the refrain, thrust home.
Vicomte de Valvert: Will you?
Cyrano de Bergerac: I will. Ballade of the duel at the Theatre of the Burgoyne, between de Bergerac and... a barbarian.
Vicomte de Valvert: What do you mean by that?
Cyrano de Bergerac: Oh, that? The title.

Cyrano de Bergerac: What would you have me do? Seek for the patronage of some great man and like a creeping vine on a tall tree, crawl upward where I cannot stand alone? No thank you! Be a buffoon in the vile hope of teasing out a smile on some cold face? No thank you! Eat a toad for breakfast each morning? Make my knees callous? Cultivate a supple spine? Wear out my belly groveling in the dust? No thank you! With my left hand, scratch the back of any swine that roots up gold for me, while my right, too proud to know his partner's business, takes in the fee? No thank you! Shall I use the fire God gave me, to burn incense all day long? No, thank you! Struggle to insinuate my name into the columns of the Gazette? Calculate, scheme, be afraid? Love more to make a visit than a poem? Seek introductions, favors, influences? No, thank you! No, I thank you and again, I thank you!

Cyrano de Bergerac: But to sing, to laugh to dream To walk in my own way, free, with an eye to see things as they are. A voice that means manhood. To cock my hat where I choose. At a word... a yes, a no. To fight, or write... but never to make a line I have not heard in my own heart. To travel any road under the sun, under the stars. Nor care if fame or fortune lie beyond the bourne. Yet, with all modesty to say, my soul be satisfied with flowers, with weeds, with thorns, even... but gather them in the one garden you may call your own. You know well I am too proud to be a parasite. And if my intellect is not the germ that grows towering to Heaven like the mountain pine, I'd stand not high as may be... but alone.

Cyrano de Bergerac: Watching other people making friends, everywhere, as a dog makes friends. I mark the manner of these canine courtesies and think, here comes, thank Heaven, another enemy!

Le Bret: [Earlier, Cyrano had arranged to meet Roxanne at Ragueneau's, tomorrow at 7. Now he promises to escort Ragueneau home & protect him from armed ruffians hired by the Comte de Guiche] Why are you risking your life for this pastry cook?
Cyrano de Bergerac: First, because this pastry cook is a friend of mine. Second, because this pastry cook is also a poet. And most important, if anything should happen to this pastry cook, tomorrow morning at 7, his shop will be closed.


Samurai Saga (1959)
Lady Ochii aka Princess Chiyo: We both have our old wounds. I have mine here. An old wound, but forever new. A paper stained with blood and tears.
Heihachiro Komaki: Ahh... his letter? You promised me that you might let me read it.
Lady Ochii aka Princess Chiyo: You really wish to?
Heihachiro Komaki: Yes, I really do, today.
Lady Ochii aka Princess Chiyo: [Removes Jutaro's letter from inside her kimono and hands it to Komaki] Here, then... read it.
Heihachiro Komaki: [Reading aloud Jutaro's letter - the words of which he, Komaki, had actually written] Farewell, Princess Chiyo, for today I die. Nevermore will my eyes follow my lady's graceful movements. And so memories must suffice. And I recall again your endearing ways. My heart is heavy...
Heihachiro Komaki: [Voice starting to tremble with emotion, but continues reading] ... for I must die and leave so much of my love unspoken.
Lady Ochii aka Princess Chiyo: [Visibly moved] The way you read it!
Heihachiro Komaki: Farewell, paragon of gentlewomen.
Lady Ochii aka Princess Chiyo: [Recognizing the voice from ten years earlier, in the garden outside her window] That voice of yours!
Heihachiro Komaki: [the letter falls from his hands, but he continues reading, since he himself wrote it and knows the words] Waking and sleeping, my thoughts were ever with you. And though I end this mortal life, my love will never change.
Lady Ochii aka Princess Chiyo: Ohh... you know the letter by heart!

Heihachiro Komaki: Yes, I did not tell you today's news. "And finally, on April 15, Heiachiro Komaki was murdered by Shogunate officers."... I vowed to die honorably, by a hero's sword. Yes, but behold me now: caught and killed in a trap set for me. So ends the life of a clown.


Cyrano de Bergerac (1985) (TV)
Cyrano de Bergerac: That thing of yours is big, what? Very big.
Cyrano de Bergerac: Precisely what I've been saying.
Le Vicomte de Valvert: Ah!
Cyrano de Bergerac: Nothing more? Just a fatuous smirk? Oh, come, there are fifty-score more varieties of comment you could find, if you possessed a modicum of mind. For instance there's the frank aggressive kind: "If mine achieved such a hypertrophic state, I'd call in a surgeon at once to amputate!" The friendly: "It must dip in your cup, You need a nasal crane to hoist it up." The pure descriptive: "From its size and shape, I'd say it was a rock, a bluff, a cape - No, a peninsula - how picturesque!" The curious: "What's that? A writing desk? The gracious: "Are you fond of birds? How sweet - A Gothic perch to rest their feet." The truculent: "Are you a smoker? I suppose the fumes must gush out fiercely from that nose and people think a chimney's on fire." Considerate: "It will drag you in the mire head first, the weight that's concentrated there. Walk carefully." The tender-hearted swear they'll have a miniature embrella made to keep the rain off, or for summer shade. Then comes the pedant: "Let me see it please. That mythic beast of Aristophenes, the hippocampocamelephant, had flesh and bone like that stuck up in front." Insolent: "Quite a useful gadget, that. You hold it high and then hang up your hat." Emphatic: "No fierce wind from near or far, save the Mistral, could give that nose catarrh." Impressed: "A sign for a perfumery!" Dramatic: "When it bleeds, it's the Red Sea!" Lyric: "Ah, Triton rising from the waters, honking his wretched conch at Neptune's daughters!" Naive: "How much to view the monument?" Speculative: "Tell me, what's the rent for each of both of those unfurnished flats?" Rustic: "Nay, Jarge, that ain't no nose. Why, that's a giant turnip, or a midget marrow. Let's dig it up and load it on the barrow." The warlike: "Train it on the enemy!" Pracitcal: "Put that in a lottery for noses, and it's bound to win first prize." And finally, with tragic sighs and cries, the language finely wrought and deeply felt, "Oh, that this too, too solid nose would melt." This is the sort of thing you could have said, if you, Sir Moron, were a man of letters or had an ounce of spunk inside your head. But you've no letters, have you, save the three required for self-description: S.O.T. You have to live my worsting to your betters, or better, who can best you, meaning me. But be quite sure, you lesser-feathered twit, Even if you possessed the soul and wit, I'd never let you get away with it.