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CYRANO DE BERGERAC

'Tis here, beneath this letter brown with age,
All stained with tear-drops, and still stained with blood.

[Twilight begins to fall.]

Cyrano.

His letter! Ah! you promised me one day
That I should read it.

Roxane.

What would you?—His letter?

Cyrano.

Yes, I would fain,—to-day…

Roxane

[giving the bag hung at her neck].

See! here it it!

Cyrano

[taking it].

Hare I your leave to open?

Roxane.

Open—read!

[She comes back to her tapestry frame, folds it up, sorts her wools.]

Cyrano

[reading].

'Roxane, adieu! I soon must die!
This very night, beloved; and I
Feel my soul heavy with love untold.
I die! No more, as in days of old,
My loving, longing eyes will feast
On your least gesture—ay, the least!