admiration which has made my eye so round!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Thoughtfully._] One feels that you have a soul.--A soul then may find
wherewithal to grow, so far from life and its drama, shut in by a
farmyard wall with a cat asleep on it?
CHANTECLER
With power to see, capacity to suffer, one may come Ito understand all
things. In an insect's death are hinted all disasters. Through a
knot-hole can be seen the sky and marching stars!
THE OLD HEN
[_Appearing._] None knows the heavens like the water in the well!
CHANTECLER
[_Presenting her to the _PHEASANT-HEN_ before the basket-lid drops._] My
foster-mother!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Politely approaching._] Delighted!
THE OLD HEN
[_Slyly winking at her._] He's a fine Cock!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
He is a Cock, moreover, for whom that fact is not the only thing in the
world!
CHANTECLER
[_Who has gone toward_ PATOU.] There, my dear boy, is a Hen with whom
one can have a bit of solid conversation.
SCENE SEVENTH
THE SAME, _the_ GUINEA-HEN, _and the whole_ POULTRY-YARD
_Cries outside, nearer and nearer,_ "Ah!--" _Enter all the_ HENS _in
tumult, preceded by the agitated_ GUINEA-HEN.
THE BLACKBIRD
[_In his cage._] The next course will be Guinea-hen!
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_Running to the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] Ah, my dear, my dear, my dear!--A
beauty, a very beauty!--We have come to make your acquaintance, my dear!
[_General admiration,_ "Ah!--" _The_ PHEASANT-HEN _is surrounded.
Conversation, cries, clucking._]
CHANTECLER
[_Watching the_ PHEASANT-HEN, _aside._] How well she walks, with free
and graceful gait!--[_He looks at the_ HENS.] So differently from my
Hens! [_Irritably, to the_ HENS.] Ladies, you walk as if you had
blisters! You walk as if you trod on your own eggs!
PATOU
No mistaking the symptoms! He is very much in love.
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_Presenting her son to the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] The Guinea-cock, my son.
THE YOUNG GUINEA-COCK
[_Looking admiringly at the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] What a jolly shade of blond!
A HEN
[_Disparagingly._] Like butter!
CHANTECLER
[_Turning, dryly to the_ HENS.] It is time you went indoors.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Amiably._] So soon?
CHANTECLER
They retire early.
A HEN
[_A little mortified._] Yes, we must turn in.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
They go in by a ladder!
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_To the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] Let us be great friends, my dear, shall we?
CHANTECLER
[_Looking at the_ PHEASANT-HEN, _aside._] Her sumptuous court-dress sets
her apart from the rest, and removes her far above.--My Hens
are dowdies!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To the_ GUINEA-HEN, _excusing herself._] I return to my forest home
to-night.
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_In excessive grief._] So soon--? [_A shot in the distance._]
PATOU
They are still after game.
THE GUINEA-HEN
You must stay.
CHANTECLER
[_Eagerly._] That's it! Let us keep her a prisoner among us till to-morrow.
PHEASANT-HEN
But where can I spend the night?
PATOU
[_Indicating his kennel._] There, in my bachelor's quarters.
PHEASANT-HEN
I?--Sleep beneath a roof?
PATOU
[_Insisting._] Go in, I pray.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
But you? What shall you do?
PATOU
I shall do very well!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Resigning herself._] I will stay then until to-morrow.
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_With piercing cries._] Ah! Ah! But to-morrow, my dear! to-morrow--
ALL
[_In alarm._] What is it?
THE YOUNG GUINEA-COCK
To-morrow is my mother's day!
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_Impetuously._] My dear, would you care to come to-morrow quite
informally, and take a simple snail with us? The Peacock--
CHANTECLER
[_Mounting the ladder, from whence he can inspect the scene._] Quiet, if
you please! Evening has blown its smoke across the sky--[_In a tone of
command._] Is every one in his accustomed place?
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_Lower, to the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] The Peacock is coming. We shall hold our
little gathering among the currant-bushes.
CHANTECLER
Are the turkeys on their roost?
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_Same business._] From five to six.
CHANTECLER
Are the ducks in their pointed house?
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_Same business._] The Tortoise has kindly said we may expect her.
PHEASANT-HEN
Indeed?
CHANTECLER
[_On the last rung of the ladder._] Is every one under cover?--Every
chick under a wing?
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_Still insisting with the_ PHEASANT-HEN _that she come on the morrow._]
The Tufted Hen has promised to bring the Cock.--[_To_ CHANTECLER.]
Charmed, I am sure.
CHANTECLER
But--
THE TUFTED HEN
[_Looking out of the hen-house._] You will come, won't you, dear?
CHANTECLER
No.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_At the foot of the ladder, looking up at him._] Oh, but you will?
CHANTECLER
Why?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Because you said "No!" to the other!
CHANTECLER
[_Wavering._] Ah!
PATOU
Humph! I beseech you--
CHANTECLER
[_Still wavering._] I--
PATOU
Humph! He is weakening.--They will make him pay dear if he yields!
THE OLD HEN
[_Appearing._] Make a reed into a pipe and play a tune upon it! [_The
basket-lid drops._]
[_Night is thickening._]
CHANTECLER
[_Still hesitating._] I--
A VOICE
Let us go to sleep--
THE TURKEY
[_On his roost, solemnly._] _Quandoque dormitat_--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_In his cage._] Dormittimus!
CHANTECLER
[_Very firmly to the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] I will not go. Good night.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Slightly offended._] Good night! [_With a curt hop she enters the
dog-kennel._]
PATOU
[_Falling asleep, stretched in front of his kennel._] Let us sleep until
the sky grows pink--pink as--as--a puppy's tummy--
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_Dropping off._] From five to six--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Likewise dropping off._] Tew--tew--[_He nods._] tew--
CHANTECLER
[_Still at the top of the ladder._] All sleeps.--[_He spies a_ CHICK
_stealing out._] Is that a chick I see?--[_Springing after him and
driving him in._] Let me catch you!--[_In driving back the_ CHICK, _he
finds himself near the kennel. He calls very softly._] Pheasant-hen!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Lost among the straw, sleepily._] What do you want?
CHANTECLER
[_After a moment's hesitation._] Nothing.--Nothing! [_He goes back to
the top of his ladder._]
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Shall I be able to sleep, I wonder--
PATOU
[_Falling sound asleep._] A puppy's tum--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Indistinctly, overcome by slumber._] To sleep under a roof?--I, with
my gypsy tastes?
CHANTECLER
I am going in. [_He disappears in the hen-house. He is heard saying in a
dreamy voice._] It is time to shut my--my--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_In a last effort._]--gyp--sy--tastes.--[_Her head nods and disappears
among the straw._]
CHANTECLER
[_His voice, sleepier and fainter._]--to shut my eyes--[_Silence. He
sleeps. Two green eyes are seen suddenly kindling at the top of
the wall._]
THE CAT
And to open mine! [_Immediately two more yellow eyes shine forth from
the darkness above the hay-cock._]
A VOICE
And mine! [_Two more yellow eyes on the wall._]
ANOTHER VOICE
And mine! [_Two more yellow eyes._]
ANOTHER VOICE
And mine!
SCENE EIGHTH
_The_ POULTRY-YARD _asleep. The_ CAT _awake. Three_ SCREECH-OWLS,
_later the_ MOLE _and the_ VOICE _of the_ CUCKOO.
FIRST VOICE
Two green eyes?
THE CAT
[_Sitting up on the wall, and looking at the other phosphorescent
eyes._] Six golden eyes?
FIRST VOICE
On the wall?
THE CAT
On the rick?--[_He calls._] Owls!
THE OWLS
Cat!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Waking up._] What's this?
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_To the_ CAT.] Great plot against him!
THE CAT
To-night?
THE THREE OWLS
To-night, too-whit!
THE CAT
Pfitt!--Where?
THE OWLS
The hollies, too-whoo!
THE CAT
What o'clock?
THE OWLS
Eight, too-whit! too-whoo!
FIRST OWL
Bats weaving soft black snares of flight--
THE CAT
Are they with us?
THE THREE OWLS
They are!
FIRST OWL
Mole, burrowing from nether to upper night--
THE CAT
Is she with us?
THE THREE OWLS
She is!
THE CAT
[_Talking toward the house-door._] You, strike your eight strokes
bravely, Cuckoo of the little clock!
THE SCREECH-OWL
Is he with us?
THE CAT
He is!--And I am pleased to tell you, silent night-watchers that some of
the day-birds are likewise with us.
THE TURKEY
[_Coming forward surrounded by a number of the barnyard constituents,
obsequiously._] So it is settled for this evening, dear Round Eyes? You
will be there?
THE OWLS
We will be there! All the Round Eyes of the neighbourhood will be there!
THE BLACKBIRD
That's a show I'd like to see!
PATOU
[_In his sleep._] Grrrrrrr--
THE CAT
[_To the startled_ NIGHT-BIRDS.] The dog is dreaming.--He growls in his
sleep.
CHANTECLER
[_Inside the hen-house._] Coa--
THE OWLS
[_Frightened._] Himself!
THE TURKEY
Fly!
FIRST OWL
No need. The night is dark. We can vanish by merely closing our eyes.
[_They shut their luminous eyes. Darkness._ CHANTECLER _appears at the
top of the ladder._]
CHANTECLER
[_To the_ BLACKBIRD.] Did you hear anything, Blackbird?
THE BLACKBIRD
I did, indeed, old chap.
THE OWLS
[_Frightened._] What's this?
THE BLACKBIRD
A black conspiracy--
CHANTECLER
Ah?
THE BLACKBIRD
[_With melodramatic emphasis._] Against you!--Tremble!
CHANTECLER
[_Going in again, unalarmed._] Joker!
THE OWLS
He has gone in.
THE BLACKBIRD
I have betrayed no one!
AN OWL
The Blackbird then is with us?
THE BLACKBIRD
No--but may I come and look on?
AN OWL
A Night-bird never eats a black bird. You can come.
THE BLACKBIRD
The password?
THE OWL
Terror and Talons!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Putting her head out of the dog-kennel._] I can't breathe in that
stifling, low-roofed little house, and--[_Catching sight of the_
NIGHT-BIRDS.] Oh!--[_She darts aside, behind the kennel, and watches._]
THE OWLS
Hush! [_They close their eyes._ THE CAT _does the same. After a time,
hearing no further sound, they open them again._] It was nothing. Let
us be off.
THE GROUP OF THE DISAFFECTED
[_With fawning obsequiousness to the_ NIGHT-BIRDS.] Success to you,
Owls,--success!
THE OWL
Thanks! But how is it that you are with us?
THE CAT
Ah, night brings out what daylight will not own to! I do not like the
Cock because the Dog does.--There you have it!
THE TURKEY
I do not like him, for the reason that having known him as a Chick I
cannot admit him as a Cock!
A DUCK
I do not like the Cock because, not being web-footed, he marks his
passage by a track of stars!
A CHICKEN
I do not like the Cock because I'm such a homely bird!
ANOTHER CHICKEN
I do not like the Cock because he has his picture painted in purple on
all the plates!
ANOTHER CHICKEN
I do not like the Cock because on all the steeples he has his statue in
gilt-bronze!
AN OWL
[_To a big overgrown_ CHICKEN.] Well, well!--And you, Capon?
THE CAPON
[_Dryly._] I do not like the Cock!
THE CUCKOO
[_Beginning to strike eight inside the house._] Cuckoo!
FIRST OWL
The hour!
CUCKOO
Cuckoo!
SECOND OWL
Let us go!
THE CUCKOO
Cuckoo!
FIRST OWL
The moon!
THE CUCKOO
Cuckoo!
FIRST OWL
Silently cleave the blue air--
THE CUCKOO
Cuckoo!
THE MOLE
[_Suddenly pushing up through the ground._]--the dark earth!
FIRST OWL
There comes the Mole!
THE CUCKOO
Cuckoo!
FIRST OWL
[_To the_ MOLE.] And you, why do you hate him?
THE MOLE
I hate him because I have never seen him!
THE CUCKOO
Cuckoo!
FIRST OWL
And you, Cuckoo, do you know why you hate him?
THE CUCKOO
[_On the last stroke._] Because he does not have to be wound up! Cuckoo!
FIRST OWL
And we do not love--
SECOND OWL
[_Hurriedly._] We are keeping the others waiting--
ALL
--the Cock, because--[_They fly off. Silence._]
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Coming slowly from behind the kennel._] I am beginning to love him!
CURTAIN
ACT SECOND
THE MORNING OF THE COCK
_Wild hillside, moss-grown and ferny, overlooking a valley with
scattered villages and winding river. Ruined wall, fragment of some
vanished terrace. Gigantic chestnut tree, rank hollies and foxgloves.
Litter suggesting neglected corner of a park: gardening implements lying
on the ground, fagots, broken flower-pots._
SCENE FIRST
_The_ NIGHT-BIRDS, _of all sorts and sizes, form a great circle,
perching in tiers on the branches, the briers, the stones; the_ CAT
_crouches in the grass; the_ BLACKBIRD _hops hither and thither on
a fagot._
_At the rise of the curtain the_ NIGHT-BIRDS _are discovered,
motionless, black shapes with closed eyes. The_ GRAND DUKE _is perched
upon a tree branch above the rest. The_ SCREECH-OWL'S _phosphorescent
eyes alone are wide open. He proceeds with the roll-call, and at every
name two great round eyes brighten in the dark._
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Calling._] Strix! [_Two eyes light up._] Scops! [_Two more eyes light
up._] Grand-Duke! [_Two more eyes._] Metascops! [_Two more eyes._]
Minor! [_Two more eyes._]
ONE NIGHT-BIRD
[_To the other._] The Great Bubo presides.
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Calling._] Owl of the Wall! Of the Belfry! Of the Cloister! Of the
Yew! [_At every name two more eyes have opened wide._]
A NIGHT-BIRD
[_To another just arriving._] The roll is called!
THE OTHER
I know. All there is to do is to open our eyes.
THE SCREECH-OWL
Asio! Nictea! Nyctalis! [_Three more pairs of eyes have opened._]
Brachyotus! [_No eye opening at the name, he repeats._] Brachyotus!
ONE OF THE NIGHT-BIRDS
He will be here directly. He stopped to eat a linnet.
BRACHYOTUS
[_Arriving._] Present!
THE SCREECH-OWL
Not one of them would miss, when the meeting relates to the Cock!
BRACHYOTUS
Not one!
THE SCREECH-OWL
Carine! [_Two eyes open._] Caparacoch! [_No eye opening, he repeats
emphatically._] Ca-pa-ra-coch!--Well?--Well?
CAPARACOCH
[_Arriving out of breath, opens his eyes, faltering an excuse. _] I live
a long way off!
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Dryly._] You should have started the earlier! [_Looking around._] We
are all present, I believe. [_Calling._] Flammeolus! And Flammeoline!
[_All the eyes are now open._]
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Solemnly._] Before beginning, let us give, but not too loud, the cry
which makes us all as one!
ALL
Long live the Night!
_And in a weird, savage, hurried chorus, interspersed with hoots and
flapping of wings, all talking together and rocking themselves in
hideous glee._
THE GRAND-DUKE
Praise the Night, discreet, propitious,
When with wadded wing and muted
O'er the sleeping world we fly,
And the partridge in the bracken
Ne'er suspects the hovering presence
Till we pounce without a cry.
THE SCREECH-OWL
Praise the Night, convenient, secret,
When in slaughtering baby rabbits
We can do it at our ease,
Daub the grass with blood in comfort,
Spare the pains to look like heroes,
Be ourselves where no one sees!
AN OLD HORNED-OWL
Praise the density of darkness!
A WOOD-OWL
The intensity of stillness
Letting crunching bones be heard!
A BARN-OWL
Freshness pleasantly contrasting
With the genial warmth of blood drops
Spurting from a strangled bird!
THE WOOD-OWL
Praise the black rock oozing terror!
THE SCREECH-OWL
And the cross-roads where our screeches,
Furrowing the startled air,
Our demoniac yelling, hooting,
Make the hardened unbeliever
Cross himself and fall to prayer!
THE GRAND-DUKE
Praise the snares of the great Weaver,
Night, whose only fault or weakness
Is her tolerance of stars!
THE SCREECH-OWL
For spectators are not wanted
At the work of plucking fledglings--
Be they Jupiter and Mars!
THE GRAND-DUKE
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