The Nightingale
Hushed lies the ravine beneath the magic of the moon—
Chantecler
—to compare my rude singing with that divine voice? Scum of the earth! Toads! And I never divined that they were doing to him here what was done to me over yonder!
The Big Toad
[Suddenly swelling to a great size.] Toads! Yes, as it happens, we are Toads!
The Nightingale
Vapour of pearl wreathes the summits in an ethereal veil—
The Big Toad
[Self-appreciatively.] We are Toads, certainly, magnificently embossed with warts! [All rear themselves up, swollen, standing between Chantecler and the tree.]
Chantecler
And I perceived not, I who have never known envy, to what venomous feast I was bidden!
The Nightingale
What matter? Sooner or later, you, the strong, and I the tender, we were fated, despite all the Toads in the world, to understand each other!
Chantecler
[With religious fervour.] Sing!
A Toad
[Who has hastily dragged himself to the tree in which the Nightingale is singing.] Let us clasp the bark with our slimy little arms, and slaver upon the foot of the tree! [All crawl toward the tree.]
Chantecler
[Trying to stop one of them who is clumsily hopping.] But are you not yourself gifted with a singing voice of exceptional purity?