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s he is about to sign, and gets up, slipping the letter into his doublet): No need I sign, since I give it her myself.
RAGUENEAU (to second poet): I have put a recipe into verse.
THIRD POET (seating himself by a plate of cream-puffs): Go to! Let us hear these verses!
FOURTH POET (looking at a cake which he has taken): Its cap is all a' one side!
(He makes one bite of the top.)
FIRST POET: See how this gingerbread woos the famished rhymer with its almond eyes, and its eyebrows of angelica!
(He takes it.)
SECOND POET: We listen.
THIRD POET (squeezing a cream-puff gently): How it laughs! Till its very cream runs over!
SECOND POET (biting a bit off the great lyre of pastry): This is the first time in my life that ever I drew any means of nourishing me from the lyre!
RAGUENEAU (who has put himself ready for reciting, cleared his throat, settled his cap, struck an attitude): A recipe in verse!. . .
SECOND POET (to first, nudging him): You are breakfasting?
FIRST POET (to second): And you dining, methinks.
RAGUENEAU: How almond tartlets are made.
Beat your eggs up, light and quick; Froth them thick; Mingle with them while you beat Juice of lemon, essence fine; Then combine The burst milk of almonds sweet.
Circle with a custard paste The slim waist Of your tartlet-molds; the top With a skillful finger print, Nick and dint, Round their edge, then, drop by drop, In its little dainty bed Your cream shed: In the oven place each mold: Reappearing, softly browned, The renowned Almond tartlets you behold!
THE POETS (with mouths crammed full): Exquisite! Delicious!
A POET (choking): Homph!
(They go up, eating.)
CYRANO (who has been watching, goes toward Ragueneau): Lulled by your voice, did you see how they were stuffing themselves?
RAGUENEAU (in a low voice, smiling): Oh, ay! I see well enough, but I never will seem to look, fearing to distress them; thus I gain a double pleasure when I rec