The Romancers

The Romancers

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Romancers, by Edmond Rostand
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Title: The Romancers A Comedy in Three Acts
Author: Edmond Rostand
Translator: Barrett H. Clark
Release Date: January 23, 2006 [EBook #17581]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
ROMANCERS ***

Produced by Kent Cooper

THE ROMANCERS (Les Romanesques)
Comedy in Three Acts by EDMOND ROSTAND
Translated by Barrett H. Clark 1915

[[ Untitled INTRODUCTORY NOTES from 1915 publication by
Samuel French: Publisher, New York:
EDMOND ROSTAND
Edmond Rostand was born at Marseilles in 1868. Rostand is
undoubtedly one of the most brilliant dramatic poets of modern times.
"Les Romanesques"--"The Romancers"--was performed for the first
time in Paris, at the Comedie Francaise, in 1894, and achieved
considerable success. Its delicacy and charm revealed the true poet, and
the deftness with which the plot was handled left little doubt as to the
author's ability to construct an interesting and moving drama. But not
until the production of "Cyrano de Bergerac" in 1897 did Rostand
become known to the world at large. "L'Aiglon" (1900) was something
of a disappointment after the brilliant "Cyrano." Ten years later came
"Chantecler," the poet's deepest and in many ways most masterly play.
"The Romancers" is best played in the romantic atmosphere of the late
Eighteenth century; the costumes should be Louis XVI. The
stage-directions are sufficiently detailed. ]]
* * * * *
[Transcriber's note: "The Romancers" is the basis for the plot of the
1960 musical "The Fantasticks," with music by Harvey Schmidt, book
and lyrics by Tom Jones.]
* * * * *
THE ROMANCERS
Persons in the Play
SYLVETTE PERCINET STRAFOREL BERGAMIN (Percinet's father)
PASQUINOT (Sylvette's father) BLAISE (A gardener) A WALL (Not
a speaking part) Swordsmen, musicians, negroes, torch-bearers, a
notary, four witnesses, and other supernumeraries.

The action takes place anywhere, provided the costumes are pretty.
* * * * *
ACT I
SCENE: The stage is divided by an old wall, covered with vines and
flowers. At the right, a corner of BERGAMIN's private park; at the left,
a corner of PASQUINOT's. On each side of the wall, and against it, is a
rustic bench. As the curtain rises, PERCINET is seated on the top of
the wall. On his knee is a book, out of which he is reading to
SYLVETTE, who stands attentively listening on the bench which is on
the other side of the wall.
SYLVETTE. Monsieur Percinet, how divinely beautiful!
PERCINET. Is it not? Listen to what Romeo answers: [Reading] "It
was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what
envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's
candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty
mountain tops: I must begone"--
SYLVETTE. [Interrupts him, as she listens.] Sh!
PERCINET. [Listens a moment, then] No one! And, Mademoiselle,
you must not take fright like a startled bird. Hear the immortal lovers:
"Juliet. Yon light is not the daylight, I know it, I, It is some meteor that
the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee
on thy way to Mantua: Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.
Romeo. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou
will have it so. I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the
pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do
beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to
stay than will to go: Come, death and welcome"--
SYLVETTE. No, he must not say such things, or I shall cry.

PERCINET. Then let us stop and read no further until to-morrow. We
shall let Romeo live! [He closes the book and looks about him.] This
charming spot seems expressly made, it seems to me, to cradle the
words of the Divine Will!
SYLVETTE. The verses are divine, and the soft air here is a divine
accompaniment. And see, these green shades! But, Monsieur Percinet,
what makes them divine to me is the way you read!
PERCINET. Flatterer!
SYLVETTE. [Sighing] Poor lovers! Their fate was cruel! [Another
sigh] I think--
PERCINET. What?
SYLVETTE. Nothing!
PERCINET. Something that made you blush red as a rose.
SYLVETTE. Nothing, I say.
PERCINET. Ah, that's too transparent. I see it all: you are thinking of
our fathers!
SYLVETTE. Perhaps--
PERCINET. Of their terrible hatred for each other.
SYLVETTE. The thought often pains me