Cyrano, Christian.
CYRANO: Embrace me now!
CHRISTIAN: Sir. . .
CYRANO: You are brave.
CHRISTIAN: Oh! but. . .
CYRANO: Nay, I insist.
CHRISTIAN: Pray tell me. . .
CYRANO: Come, embrace! I am her brother.
CHRISTIAN: Whose brother?
CYRANO: Hers i' faith! Roxane's!
CHRISTIAN (rushing up to him): O heavens! Her brother. . .?
CYRANO: Cousin--brother!. . .the same thing!
CHRISTIAN: And she has told you. . .?
CYRANO: All!
CHRISTIAN: She loves me? say!
CYRANO: Maybe!
CHRISTIAN (taking his hands): How glad I am to meet you, Sir!
CYRANO: That may be called a sudden sentiment!
CHRISTIAN: I ask your pardon. . .
CYRANO (looking at him, with his hand on his shoulder): True, he's fair, the villain!
CHRISTIAN: Ah, Sir! If you but knew my admiration!. . .
CYRANO: But all those noses?. . .
CHRISTIAN: Oh! I take them back!
CYRANO: Roxane expects a letter.
CHRISTIAN: Woe the day!
CYRANO: How?
CHRISTIAN: I am lost if I but ope my lips!
CYRANO: Why so?
CHRISTIAN: I am a fool--could die for shame!
CYRANO: None is a fool who knows himself a fool. And you did not attack me like a fool.
CHRISTIAN: Bah! One finds battle-cry to lead th' assault! I have a certain military wit, But, before women, can but hold my tongue. Their eyes! True, when I pass, their eyes are kind. . .
CYRANO: And, when you stay, their hearts, methinks, are kinder?
CHRISTIAN: No! for I am one of those men--tongue-tied, I know it--who can never tell their love.
CYRANO: And I, meseems, had Nature been more kind, More careful, when she fashioned me,--had been One of those men who well could speak their love!
CHRISTIAN: Oh, to express one's thoughts with facile grace!. . .
CYRANO: . . .To be a musketeer, with handsome face!
CHRISTIAN: Roxane is precieuse. I'm sure to prove A disappointment to her!
CYRANO (looking at him): Had I but Such an interpreter to speak my soul!
CHRISTIAN (with despair): Eloquence! Where to find it?
CYRANO (abruptly): That I lend, If you lend me your handsome victor-charms; Blended, we make a hero of romance!
CHRISTIAN: How so?
CYRANO: Think you you can repeat what things I daily teach your tongue?
CHRISTIAN: What do you mean?
CYRANO: Roxane shall never have a disillusion! Say, wilt thou that we woo her, double-handed? Wilt thou that we two woo her, both together? Feel'st thou, passing from my leather doublet, Through thy laced doublet, all my soul inspiring?
CHRISTIAN: But, Cyrano!. . .
CYRANO: Will you, I say?
CHRISTIAN: I fear!
CYRANO: Since, by yourself, you fear to chill her heart, Will you--to kindle all her heart to flame-- Wed into one my phrases and your lips?
CHRISTIAN: Your eyes flash!
CYRANO: Will you?
CHRISTIAN: Will it please you so? --Give you such pleasure?
CYRANO (madly): It!. . . (Then calmly, business-like): It would amuse me! It is an enterprise to tempt a poet. Will you complete me, and let me complete you? You march victorious,--I go in your shadow; Let me be wit for you, be you my beauty!
CHRISTIAN: The letter, that she waits for even now! I never can. . .
CYRANO (taking out the letter he had written): See! Here it is--your letter!
CHRISTIAN: What?
CYRANO: Take it! Look, it wants but the address.
CHRISTIAN: But I. . .
CYRANO: Fear nothing. Send it. It will suit.
CHRISTIAN: But have you. . .?
CYRANO: Oh! We have our pockets full, We poets, of love-letters, writ to Chloes, Daphnes--creations of our noddle-heads. Our lady-loves,--phantasms of our brains, --Dream-fancies blown into soap-bubbles! Come! Take it, and change feigned love-words into true; I breathed my sighs and moans haphazard-wise; Call all these wandering love-birds home to nest. You'll see that I was in these lettered lines, --Eloquent all the more, the less sincere! --Take it, and make an end!
CHRISTIAN: Were it not well To change some words? Written haphazard-wise, Will it fit Roxane?
CYRANO: 'Twill fit like a glove!
CHRISTIAN: But. . .
CYRANO: Ah, credulity of love! Roxane Will think each word inspired by herself!
CHRISTIAN: My friend!
(He throws himself into Cyrano's arms. They remain thus.)
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