Scene THIRDCHANTECLER, the BLACKBIRD in his cage, the CAT still
asleep on the wall, the GEEY HEN behind the OLD HEN'S
basket.CHANTECLER. [To himself, after a pause.] No, I will not trust a
frivolous soul with such a weighty secret. Let me try
rather to cast off the burden of it myself forget and [Shaking his feathers.] just rejoice in being a rooster! [He struts up and down.] I am beautiful. I am proud.
I walk then I stand still. I give a skip or two, I
tread a measure. I shock the cart sometimes by my
boldness with the fair, so that it raises scandalised
shafts in horror to the sky!Hang care!A barley-
corn. Eat and be merry. The gear upon my head
and under my eye is a far more gorgeous red, when I
puff out my chest and strut, than any robin's waist-
coat or finch's tie. A fine day. All is well. I curvet
I blow my horn. Conscious of having done my
duty, I may quite properly assume the swagger of a
musketeer, and the calm commanding bearing of a
cardinal. I can A VOICE. [Loud and gruff.] Beware, Chantecler! CHANTECLER. What silly beast is bidding me beware? |
