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!
Chantecler
[Slightly out of patience.] Why not make a practice of talking simply and to the point?
The Blackbird
I like to make you sit up, and watch you blinking.
Patou
Grrrrr—in the plain interest of public decency, I say it behooves us—
The Blackbird
Don’t say behooves, say it’s up to you, old chap!
Chantecler
What’s all this juggling with words?