Three birds exhaust your bard’s vocabulary:
Larks, nightingales and owls! High time, you see,
To wean this fellow from your piper’s tales,
And teach him craftily
To build our hungry birds a homelike sanctuary.
ALWYN
[Patting Quercus’ shoulder.]
Good Shy, no schooling could so much relieve
My modern apprehensions: Tutor him,
Hoof, head and limb,