CYRANO.
A kiss! The word is soft. Why hesitate?
The name, be sure, will not maltreat your lips,
However burning be the thing itself.—
Just now, you left the trifling mood, to glide,
To steal from smile to sigh, and sigh to tears.
Glide on!.... From tear to kiss there's but a thrill!
ROXANE.
Be silent!
CYRANO.
After all, what is a kiss?
An oath that's given closer than before;
A promise more precise; the sealing of
Confessions that till then were barely breathed;
A ruby O to spell the verb: I love![21]
A secret that's confided to a mouth
And not to ears; a precious moment of
Infinity that buzzes like a bee;
Communion with the fragrance flowers have;
A gentle way for heart to breathe a heart,
For soul from fervid lips to drink a soul!
ROXANE.
Be still!
CYRANO.
A kiss is oft a thing so grand
That once a queen of France permitted one
Unto a happy lord. I said: a queen!