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. . .