THE BLACKBIRD
A whopping muscle and a tolerable nerve!

CHANTECLER
No, let us not make light of serious things, responsible winged
creatures that we are!

THE BLACKBIRD
Let us go in for heavy-weight truths, by all means!

CHANTECLER
But can’t you see that to look straight at the sun, rising before his
eyes by the exertions of his larynx, one must have at the same time—­

THE BLACKBIRD
Stentorian lungs and the eyes of a lynx! [He hops out of the way.]

CHANTECLER [Controlling himself.] No, I cannot give up the hope of winning this soul to the truth! [With desperate patience.] Come, now, have you any conception, unhappy bird, of what dawn actually is?

THE BLACKBIRD
I should say so!  It’s the time of day when fluffy Aurora gets busy, as
it were, and plays ball!

CHANTECLER
But what do you say when you see the dawn shining upon the mountains?

THE BLACKBIRD
Mountains, I say, what on earth are you blushing about?

CHANTECLER
And what do you say when you hear me singing in the furrow long before
the cricket is awake?

THE BLACKBIRD
Cricket, I say, you scandalous slug-a-bed! [He hops out of the way.]

CHANTECLER [Beside himself.] Are you conscious of no impulse to exclaim, cry out, when I have made a dawn so fine and fiery-red that the heron, flying in the early glow, looks from afar like a flamingo?

THE BLACKBIRD
Sure, brother, sure!  I feel like shouting, “Bully, do it again!” [He
hops out of the way.]

CHANTECLER [Exhausted.] That soul!  I am more spent with chasing it than with a whole day’s grasshopper hunting! [Violently.] Did you not see the sky?

THE BLACKBIRD [Simply.] How could I?  The ground is all you can see through that little black hole. [Pointing at the flower-pot.]

CHANTECLER
Did you see the mountain-tops tremble and turn crimson?

THE BLACKBIRD
While you were crowing, I had my eye on your feet.

CHANTECLER
[Sorrowfully.] Ah!

THE BLACKBIRD
They were performing on the soft sod something choice in the line of
fancy dances!

CHANTECLER
[Giving up.] I pity you!  Back to your darkness, obscure Blackbird!

THE BLACKBIRD
Your obedient servant, illustrious Cock!

CHANTECLER
My course is toward the sun!

THE BLACKBIRD
Take along smoked glasses!

CHANTECLER
Blackbird, do you know the one thing upon earth worthy that one should
live wholly for its sake?

THE BLACKBIRD
There I draw the line.  I won’t enter the debate!

CHANTECLER That thing is effort, Blackbird—­effort, which uplifts and ennobles the lowest!  For which reason, you, contemner of every sublime aspiration, I contemn!  And that fragile roseate snail, struggling unaided to silver over a whole fagot, I honour!