Scene 2.X.



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.)