Act I, Scene v
| Cyrano, Le Bret. |
| CYRANO (to Le Bret): |
 Now talk—I listen. |
| (He stands at the buffet, and placing before him first the macaroon): |
| Dinner!. . . |
| (then the grapes): |
| Dessert!. . . |
| (then the glass of water): |
| Wine!. . . |
| (he seats himself): |
| So! And now to table! |
| Ah! I was hungry, friend, nay, ravenous! |
| (eating): |
| You said—? |
| LE BRET: |
| These fops, would-be belligerent, |
| Will, if you heed them only, turn your head!. . . |
| Ask people of good sense if you would know |
| The effect of your fine insolence— |
| CYRANO (finishing his macaroon): |
| Enormous! |
| LE BRET: |
| The Cardinal. . . |
| CYRANO (radiant): |
| The Cardinal—was there? |
| LE BRET: |
| Must have thought it. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| Original, i' faith! |
| LE BRET: |
| But. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| He's an author. 'Twill not fail to please him |
| That I should mar a brother-author's play. |
| LE BRET: |
| You make too many enemies by far! |
| CYRANO (eating his grapes): |
| How many think you I have made to-night? |
| LE BRET: |
| Forty, no less, not counting ladies. |
| CYRANO: |
| Count! |
| LE BRET: |
| Montfleury first, the bourgeois, then De Guiche, |
| The Viscount, Baro, the Academy. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| Enough! I am o'erjoyed! |
| LE BRET: |
| But these strange ways, |
| Where will they lead you, at the end? Explain |
| Your system—come! |
| CYRANO: |
| I in a labyrinth |
| Was lost—too many different paths to choose; |
| I took. . . |
| LE BRET: |
| Which? |
| CYRANO: |
| Oh! by far the simplest path. . . |
| Decided to be admirable in all! |
| LE BRET (shrugging his shoulders): |
| So be it! But the motive of your hate |
| To Montfleury—come, tell me! |
| CYRANO (rising): |
| This Silenus, |
| Big-bellied, coarse, still deems himself a peril— |
| A danger to the love of lovely ladies, |
| And, while he sputters out his actor's part, |
| Makes sheep's eyes at their boxes—goggling frog! |
| I hate him since the evening he presumed |
| To raise his eyes to hers. . .Meseemed I saw |
| A slug crawl slavering o'er a flower's petals! |
| LE BRET (stupefied): |
| How now? What? Can it be. . .? |
| CYRANO (laughing bitterly): |
| That I should love?. . . |
| (Changing his tone, gravely): |
| I love. |
| LE BRET: |
| And may I know?. . .You never said. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| Come now, bethink you!. . .The fond hope to be |
| Beloved, e'en by some poor graceless lady, |
| Is, by this nose of mine for aye bereft me; |
| —This lengthy nose which, go where'er I will, |
| Pokes yet a quarter-mile ahead of me; |
| But I may love—and who? 'Tis Fate's decree |
| I love the fairest—how were't otherwise? |
| LE BRET: |
| The fairest?. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| Ay, the fairest of the world, |
| Most brilliant—most refined—most golden-haired! |
| LE BRET: |
| Who is this lady? |
| CYRANO: |
| She's a danger mortal, |
| All unsuspicious—full of charms unconscious, |
| Like a sweet perfumed rose—a snare of nature, |
| Within whose petals Cupid lurks in ambush! |
| He who has seen her smile has known perfection, |
| —Instilling into trifles grace's essence, |
| Divinity in every careless gesture; |
| Not Venus' self can mount her conch blown sea-ward, |
| As she can step into her chaise a porteurs, |
| Nor Dian fleet across the woods spring-flowered, |
| Light as my Lady o'er the stones of Paris!. . . |
| LE BRET: |
| Sapristi! all is clear! |
| CYRANO: |
| As spiderwebs! |
| LE BRET: |
| Your cousin, Madeleine Robin? |
| CYRANO: |
| Roxane! |
| LE BRET: |
| Well, but so much the better! Tell her so! |
| She saw your triumph here this very night! |
| CYRANO: |
| Look well at me—then tell me, with what hope |
| This vile protuberance can inspire my heart! |
| I do not lull me with illusions—yet |
| At times I'm weak: in evening hours dim |
| I enter some fair pleasance, perfumed sweet; |
| With my poor ugly devil of a nose |
| I scent spring's essence—in the silver rays |
| I see some knight—a lady on his arm, |
| And think 'To saunter thus 'neath the moonshine, |
| I were fain to have my lady, too, beside!' |
| Thought soars to ecstasy. . .O sudden fall! |
| —The shadow of my profile on the wall! |
| LE BRET (tenderly): |
| My friend!. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| My friend, at times 'tis hard, 'tis bitter, |
| To feel my loneliness—my own ill-favor. . . |
| LE BRET (taking his hand): |
| You weep? |
| CYRANO: |
| No, never! Think, how vilely suited |
| Adown this nose a tear its passage tracing! |
| I never will, while of myself I'm master, |
| let the divinity of tears—their beauty |
| Be wedded to such common ugly grossness. |
| Nothing more solemn than a tear—sublimer; |
| And I would not by weeping turn to laughter |
| The grave emotion that a tear engenders! |
| LE BRET: |
| Never be sad! What's love?—a chance of Fortune! |
| CYRANO (shaking his head): |
| Look I a Caesar to woo Cleopatra? |
| A Tito to aspire to Berenice? |
| LE BRET: |
| Your courage and your wit!—The little maid |
| Who offered you refreshment even now, |
| Her eyes did not abhor you—you saw well! |
| CYRANO (impressed): |
| True! |
| LE BRET: |
| Well, how then?. . .I saw Roxane herself |
| Was death-pale as she watched the duel. |
| CYRANO: |
| Pale? |
| LE BRET: |
| Her heart, her fancy, are already caught! |
| Put it to th' touch! |
| CYRANO: |
| That she may mock my face? |
| That is the one thing on this earth I fear! |
| THE PORTER (introducing some one to Cyrano): |
| Sir, some one asks for you. . . |
| CYRANO (seeing the duenna): |
| God! her duenna! |
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