Shouldn't wonder. For on this spot eleven drummer-boys-- (THE DUKE: Eleven drummer-boys--?) I see them now! Eleven bullet-heads, as like as peas, Between the flapping of their foolish ears, Who marched, they knew not whence, nor why, nor whither, But gayly marched and rolled their rataplan! We used to chaff them, for their funny ways Made them the darlings of the sutler's wife. But when they beat the charge like little rabbits-- Eleven drums with two-and-twenty sticks-- They set our bayonets thrilling with their thunder; The quivering zigzags seemed to cry aloud, "Our lightning's not in vain!"--Well, on this spot, A brazen devil hiccoughed fire and steel And took them in the flank; yes! all the eleven! But, by the Lord! you should have seen the woman! She gathered up her apron like a gleaner, And madly gleaned the little ebony drumsticks. (He clears his throat.) Only to speak of it gives me a cold--! (He picks a red geranium.) Here's how to make a mere geranium A ribbon of the Legion: keep one petal. What? You look well upon my velvet lining? (To the DUKE.) Is this what you bestowed upon me, Sire? (THE DUKE: I gave a phantom--) And I wear a flower!

Flambeau Monologue from L'Aiglon

Rehearse Flambeau's monologue