Rascal contemptible! For that witless face
That my hand soon will come to cuff--is all
As empty. . .

(He cuffs him.)

THE BORE:
Aie!

CYRANO:
--of pride, of aspiration,
Of feeling, poetry--of godlike spark
Of all that appertains to my big nose,
(He turns him by the shoulders, suiting the action to the word):
As. . .what my boot will shortly come and kick!

THE BORE (running away):
Help! Call the Guard!

CYRANO:
Take notice, boobies all,
Who find my visage's center ornament
A thing to jest at--that it is my wont--
An if the jester's noble--ere we part
To let him taste my steel, and not my boot!

DE GUICHE (who, with the marquises, has come down from the stage):
But he becomes a nuisance!

THE VISCOUNT DE VALVERT (shrugging his shoulders):