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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!
