But mind and wit?
CYRANO.
They serve to make you stay.
But now 'twould be an insult to the night,
To fragrance, and to fate, and nature too,
If we should hold unto affected style.
One look above, and artifice disarms!
I fear that, with this subtle alchemy,
The truth of sentiment might vapourise,
The soul exhaust itself in futile play,
And niceties be carried to a point
So pointed that it end in nothingness!
ROXANE.
But mind and wit?
CYRANO.
I hate them now. It is
A crime to force sweet love to bandy words!
There comes a time, moreover, be assured—
Oh! how I pity those who feel it not!—
When our breast o'erflows with noble love,
A love that pretty words must desecrate!
ROXANE.
Since now for both of us the time has come,
What words shall I expect from you?