CLOSE READING, ACT 1
CYRANO.
A mortal danger without knowing it,
Undreamed-of-in-her-own-dreams exquisite
A roseleaf ambush where love lurks to seize
The unwary heart. The unwary eye that sees
Her smile sees pearled perfection. She can knit
Grace from a twine of air. The heavens sit
In every gesture. Of divinities
She’s most divine. O Venus, amorous queen,
You never stepped into your shell; Dian—
You never glided through the summer’s green
As she steps into her chair and then is seen
Gliding through dirty Paris—
LE BRET There’s no ban
On uttering her name---your cousin’s name?
CYRANO. It rhymes, and that’s enough. Let not the shame
Of the dusty air besmirch it---
LE BRET. Oh—absurd.
This is the finest news I ever heard.
You love her? Fine---so go and tell her so.
Tonight you’re covered in a golden glow
Of glory in her eyes.
CYRANO. This gross protuberance.
Look at it, and tell me what exuberance
Of hope can swell the rest of me. I’m under
No illusion. Oh, sometimes, bemused by the wonder
Of a blue evening, a garden of lilac and rose,
Letting this wretched devil of a nose
Breathe in the perfume, I follow with my eye---
Under that silver glory in the sky---
Some woman on the arm of a cavalier,
And dream that I too could be strolling there,
With such a girl on my arm, under the moon.
My heart lifts, I forget my curse, but soon,
Suddenly, I perceive what kills it all---
My profile shadowed on the garden wall.
LE BRET. My friend---
CYRANO. My friend, why should providence allot
Such ugliness, such loneliness?
LE BRET. You’re not crying?
CYRANO. Oh, never, never that. To see
A long tear straggling along this nose would be
Intolerably ugly. I wouldn’t permit
A crystal tear fraught with such exquisite
Limpidity to be defiled by my
Gross snout. Tears are sublime things, and I,
Wedding a nymph to a rhinoceros,
Would render the sublime ridiculous.
LE BRET. All right, not crying, but still sad. Yet love
Is an imponderable, not a matter of----
Well, nasal mensuration. March right in.
If love, as they say, is a lottery, you can----
CYRANO. Argh.
I love Cleopatra. Have I Antony’s
Glamour and glow and glory? And if she’s
Hero, though I can swim, I’m no Leander.
A new Roxane needs a new Alexander,
And I’m the Great in only one respect.
Helen of Paris---whom can she select
But Paris of Paris? I’m not he.
LE BRET. But your wit,
Your courage---they can earn love. Surely it
Was proved just now. The girl who offered you
Food---did her eyes show hate, revulsion?