Second Toad
His solitary idea is an old silver trill copied from the bubbling spring. [He imitates in grotesque fashion the singing of the Nightingale.] Tio! Tio!
Chantecler
But—
The Big Toad
[Quickly.] Do not attempt, you, the Renovator of Art, to defend that ancient high authority on sentimental gargling!
Second Toad
That superannuated tenor quavering out his cavatinas to the glory of minor poetry and the edification of fogydom!
Third Toad
The Harp that twanged through Tara’s hall, and insists on twanging still!
Chantecler
[Indulgently.] But why should he not, after all, if he enjoys it?
The Big Toad
Endeavouring to impose on a suffering and surfeited public the musty old fashion of ingenious fioritura!
Chantecler
Audiences nowadays, of course, look for a different sort of thing.
Third Toad
Your song has exposed the artificiality of his.
All
[In an explosion.] Down with Bul-bul!