PATOU
Bad luck is what you’ll bring them!

BLACKBIRD
A prophecy-sharp?—­Say, wisteria, we are twisted up with laughter! [He
comes out of his cage and hops to the ground.]

PATOU
[As he approaches] Grrrrrrr—­

CHANTECLER
Hush!  He’s a friend!

PATOU
A false one.

CHANTECLER
[To BLACKBIRD.] Fine things we learn when the talk is of you!

THE OLD HEN [Her head protruding from the basket.] Strike rotten wood, and see the wood-lice scatter! [The basket-lid drops.]

PATOU
[To CHANTECLER.] He laughs at you behind your back!

BLACKBIRD
[To PATOU.] Ha, retriever, you retrieve?

PATOU When you pour forth your heart in your ardent cry, giving it over and over, he calls it the same old saw that your jag-toothed red crest stands for!

CHANTECLER
So that’s what you say?

BLACKBIRD
[Affecting simplicity.] You surely don’t mind?  How can it affect you? 
And a joke about you is always so sure of success!

PATOU
[To the BLACKBIRD.] Point-blank, do you admire or despise the Cock?

BLACKBIRD
I make fun of him in spots, but admire him in lump!

PATOU
You always peck two kinds of seed.

THE BLACKBIRD
My cage has two seed-cups, you see.

PATOU
I am single-minded and downright!

THE BLACKBIRD
You—­are an old poodle of the year 48!  I am an up-to-date bird!

PATOU [Gruffly.] Out of my way! lest I give your black coat red tails! [The BLACKBIRD nimbly gets out of the way, PATOU goes into his kennel grumbling.] I’ll show him some up-to-date jaws!

CHANTECLER
Be quiet!  It’s his way.  The truth is that if once he stood in the
presence of beauty, this very Blackbird would applaud!

PATOU Not with both wings!  What can you expect of a bird who, with woodbine and juniper full in sight, prefers to go inside and peck at a musty biscuit?

BLACKBIRD
He never seems to suspect that the poacher is a blackguardly sort of
brute!

PATOU
What I know is that the underbrush is all a delicate golden gloom—­

THE BLACKBIRD
Yes, but leaden shot can cleave your delicate gold.  The quail is such a
canny bird, that he lies low lest he make his last appearance on toast. 
And so, in lack of quail—­

PATOU
Does the great stag delight any the less in his green forest for turning
over among the grass at evening some bit of a rusty cartridge?

THE BLACKBIRD
No, old chap—­but the stag, you see, is just another kind of a hat-rack!

PATOU
Oh, but freedom, freedom, with violets looking on!  Love!—­

THE BLACKBIRD Antediluvian pastimes! not nearly such good fun as my nice new wooden trapeze.  Oh, my cage, let us sign a joyful three-six-nine years’ lease!  I live like a Duke, I have filtered drinking-water—­[At PATOU’S significant start and growl, he springs aside, finishing.] You can sling mud upon me, I have a porcelain bath!