Chantecler
—to all the Guineahennery gathered beneath these arbors. Let the garden—the Bees agree with me, I fancy!—let the garden work untroubled at changing its blossoms into fruit—
Buzzing of Bees
We agree—ee—ee!
Chantecler
Nothing good is ever accomplished in the midst of noise. Noise prevents the bough—
Buzzing
[Further off.] So say we—e—e! we—e—e!
Chantecler
—from bringing its apple to perfection, prevents the grape—
Buzzing
[Dying away among the foliage.] So say we—e—e!
Chantecler
—from ripening on the vine. [Going toward the back with the Pheasant-hen.] Let us go! [Turning and coming again angrily toward the front.] But I wish furthermore to say to these H—[The Pheasant-hen lays her wing across his beak.]—ens that those unnatural Cocks will lightly take themselves away, back to the gilded mangers of their sole affection, the moment they hear the cry of Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick! [Imitating a servant girl calling Chickens to feed.] For all those charlatans are stalking appetites, and nothing more!
The Pheasant-hen
[Trying to lead him off.] Come! Come!
A Hen
She is eloping with him.
Chantecler
I am coming! But—[Coming forward again.] I must first say to this Peacock, in the presence of that Addlepate—[Indicating the Guinea-hen.]