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CHANTECLER [_Politely._] You have fine eyes.
THE BIG TOAD [_Raising himself by bearing with both hands upon the rim of the toadstool._] But, Knights of this fungoid Round Table, we desire to do homage to the Parsifal who has given to the world a sublime song--
SECOND TOAD A true song!
THE BIG TOAD And a celestial!
THIRD TOAD And a no less terrestrial!
THE BIG TOAD [_With authority._] A song by comparison with which the song of the Nightingale sinks into insignificance!
CHANTECLER [_Astonished._] The Nightingale's song?
SECOND TOAD [_In a tone of finality._] Is not a circ.u.mstance to yours!
THE BIG TOAD [_With a hop._] It was high time that a new singer--
ANOTHER [_Same business._] And a new song--
FIFTH TOAD [_Quickly, to his neighbour._] And a song by a stranger--
THE BIG TOAD Came to change conditions here.
CHANTECLER Ah, I shall change conditions?
ALL Glory to the c.o.c.k!
CHANTECLER I do not see that the forest thinks so poorly of me after all!
THE BIG TOAD Played out, the Nightingale!
CHANTECLER [_More and more surprised._] Really?
SECOND TOAD More and more his song confesses itself effete--
THE BIG TOAD Mawkis.h.!.+
THIRD TOAD Null!
FOURTH [_Contemptuously._] And his old-fas.h.i.+oned pretense of inspiration!
FIFTH TOAD And the name he has adopted: Bul-bul!
ALL THE TOADS [_Puffing with laughter._] Bul-bul!
THE BIG TOAD This is the way he goes on: [_Parodying the song of the_ NIGHTINGALE.]
Tio! Tio!
SECOND TOAD His solitary idea is an old silver trill copied from the bubbling spring. [_He imitates in grotesque fas.h.i.+on the singing of the_ NIGHTINGALE.] Tio! Tio!
CHANTECLER But--
THE BIG TOAD [_Quickly._] Do not attempt, you, the Renovator of Art, to defend that ancient high authority on sentimental gargling!
SECOND TOAD That superannuated tenor quavering out his cavatinas to the glory of minor poetry and the edification of fogydom!
THIRD TOAD The Harp that tw.a.n.ged through Tara's hall, and insists on tw.a.n.ging still!
CHANTECLER [_Indulgently._] But why should he not, after all, if he enjoys it?
THE BIG TOAD Endeavouring to impose on a suffering and surfeited public the musty old fas.h.i.+on of ingenious fioritura!
CHANTECLER Audiences nowadays, of course, look for a different sort of thing.
THIRD TOAD Your song has exposed the artificiality of his.
ALL [_In an explosion._] Down with Bul-bul!
CHANTECLER [_Whom the_ TOADS _have gradually surrounded._] Gentlemen and honored Batrachians, my voice, it is true, gives forth natural notes--
THE BIG TOAD Yes, notes which lend us wings--
CHANTECLER [_Modestly._] Oh!
ALL [_Waggling their bodies as if about to fly._] Wings!
THE BIG TOAD Their secret being that they sing Life!
CHANTECLER That is true.
SECOND TOAD Yes, my dear fellow, Life!
CHANTECLER [_With careless complacency._] My crest for that reason is flesh and blood!
ALL THE TOADS [_Clapping their little hands._] Good, very good!
THE BIG TOAD That formula is a programme.
SECOND TOAD Since we are a.s.sembled around a table, why should we not offer to the Chief--
CHANTECLER [_Modestly, hanging back from the suggested honour._]Gentlemen--
SECOND TOAD --to the Chief of whom we stood in notable need, a banquet?
ALL [_Beating enthusiastically upon the toadstool._] A banquet!
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Looking out from the tree._] What is the matter?
