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CYRANO DE BERGERAC

Cyrano.

No! no! I will not have it! Spare me this—

Christian.

Because my face is haply fair, shall I
Destroy your happiness? 'Twere too unjust!

Cyrano.

And I,—because by Nature's freak I have
The gift to say—all that perchance you feel,
Shall I be fatal to your happiness?

Christian.

Tell all!

Cyrano.

Tell all! It is ill done to tempt me thus!

Christian.

Too long I've borne about within myself
A rival to myself—I'll make an end!

Cyrano.

Christian!

Christian.

Christian! Our union, without witness—secret—
Clandestine,—can be easily dissolved
If we survive.

Cyrano.

If we survive. My God!—he still persists!

Christian.

I will be loved myself—or not at all!
—I'll go see what they do—there, at the end
Of the post: speak to her, and then let her choose
One of us two!