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!