This is the delightful play about Cyrano de Bergerac, performed with much zeal, little talent, and entirely without taste. Full it is of jugglery, buffoonery, and cheap trumpery, overflowing with sword-fighting, intrigue, and even costume. Also, the educated may have already noticed, it is written in rhyme, which greatly enhances the artistic value, since it glues individual sentences together by consonance and every nonsense thus rhymes at the end.
And if this sounds döflich sometimes, twisted and screwed, hundsföttisch long-winded and also dusty, so the rhymes often pulled by the hair, joined with the Brerechstang' and sucked out the fingers, so have pity, because this is with rhymes so the custom. A dilettante wrote it, and dilettantes play it too.
Cyrano de Bergerac with the long nose and the shy soul, the poet and soldier, adventurer and fantasist, unhappily in love with his beautiful cousin Roxane, but too afraid to reveal his love to her, he writes instead ardent love letters to her under other people's names, thus winning her heart and yet losing it at the same time.
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