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!