Chantecler | Page 6

and resonant Fly, I love thee! Behold her! What
is her flight but the heart-whole gift of herself?

THE TURKEY [Loftily.] Yes.--She has dropped considerably in my
esteem, however, since that matter of the--
CHANTECLER Of the what?
THE TURKEY Of the Fly and the--
CHANTECLER I never thought much of that story. Who knows
whether the coach would have reached the top of the hill without the
Fly? Do you believe that rude shouts "Gee up! Ge' lang!" were more
effective than the hymn to the Sun buzzed by the little Fly? Do you
believe in the virtue of a blustering oath? Really believe it was the
Coachman who made the coach to go? No, I tell you, no! She did much
more than the big whip's noisy cracking, did the little Fly, with the
music straight from her buzzing heart!
THE TURKEY Yes, but all the same--
CHANTECLER [Turning his back on him.] Come, let us make of
labour a delight! Come, all of you!--High time, Ganders my worthies,
you escorted your geese to the pond.
A GANDER [Lazily.] Is it quite necessary, do you think?
CHANTECLER [Going briskly towards him, with a look that forbids
discussion.] Quite! And let there be no idle quacking and paltering!
[The GANDERS go off in haste.] You, Chicken, your task, as you
know, is to pick off slugs, your full number before evening being
thirty-two.--You, Cockerel, go practise your crow. Four hundred times
cry Cock-a-doodle-doo in hearing of the echo!
THE COCKEREL [Slightly mortified.] The echo--?
CHANTECLER That is what I was doing to limber up my glottis
before I was rid of the egg-shell sticking to my tail!
A HEN [Airily.] None of this is particularly interesting!
CHANTECLER Everything is interesting! Pray go and sit on the eggs

you have been entrusted with! [To another HEN.] You, walk among
the roses and verbenas, and gobble every creature threatening them. Ha,
ha! If the caterpillar thinks we will make him a gift of our flowers he
can stroke his belly--with his back! [To another.] You, hie to the rescue
of cabbages in old neglected corners, where the grasshopper lays siege
to them with his vigorous battering-ram! [To the remaining HENS.]
You--[Catching sight of the OLD HEN, _whose shaking, senile head
has lifted the basket-lid.] Ah, there you are, Nursie! Good day! [She
gazes at him admiringly._] Well, have I grown?
THE OLD HEN Sooner or later, tadpole becomes toad!
CHANTECLER True! [To the HENS, resuming his tone of command.]
Ladies, stand in line! Your orders are to peck in the fields. Off at a
quick-step, go!
THE WHITE HEN [To the GREY HEN.] Are you coming?
THE GREY HEN Not a word! I intend to stay behind, to see the
Cuckoo. [_She hides behind the basket._]
CHANTECLER You, little tufted hen, was it just my fancy that you
looked sulky falling into line?
THE TUFTED HEN [Going up to him.] Cock--
CHANTECLER What is it?
THE TUFTED HEN I, who am nearest to your heart--
CHANTECLER [Quickly.] Hush!
THE TUFTED HEN It annoys me not to be told--
THE WHITE HEN [Who has drawn near on the other side.] Cock--
CHANTECLER Well?
THE WHITE HEN [Coaxingly.] I who am your favourite--

CHANTECLER [Quickly.] Hush!
THE WHITE HEN [Caressingly.] I want to know--
THE BLACK HEN [Who has softly drawn near.] Cock--
CHANTECLER What?
THE BLACK HEN Your special and tender regard for me--
CHANTECLER [Quickly.] Hush!
THE BLACK HEN Tell me, do--
THE WHITE HEN --the secret--
THE TUFTED HEN --of your song? [_Going still closer to him, in a
voice thrilled with curiosity._] I do believe that you have in your throat
a little copper contrivance--
CHANTECLER That's it, that's what I have, very carefully concealed!
THE WHITE HEN [Same business.] Most likely, like great tenors one
has heard of, you gulp raw eggs--
CHANTECLER You have guessed!--A second Ugolino!
THE BLACK HEN [Same business.] My idea is that taking snails out
of their shells, you pound them to a paste--
CHANTECLER And make them into troches! Exactly!
ALL THREE HENS Cock--!
CHANTECLER Off with you all! Be off! [The HENS _hastily start, he
calls them back._] A word before you go. When your blood-bright
combs--now in, now out of sight, now in again--shall flash among the
sage and borage yonder, like poppies playing at hide-and-seek,--to the
real poppies, I enjoin you, do no injury! Shepherdesses, counting the

stitches of their knitting, trample the grass all unaware that it's a crime
to crush a flower--even with a woman! But you, my Spouses, show
considerate and touching thought for the flowers whose only offence is
growing wild. The field-carrot has her right to bloom in beauty. Should
you spy, as he strolls across some flowery umbel, a scarlet beetle
peppered with black dots,--the stroller take,