CHANTECLER, _the_ BLACKBIRD _in his cage, the_ CAT _still asleep on the
wall, the_ GREY HEN _behind the_ OLD HEN’S _basket._
CHANTECLER
[_To himself, after a pause._] No, I will not trust a frivolous soul
with such a weighty secret. Let me try rather to cast off the burden of
it myself--forget and [_Shaking his feathers._] just rejoice in being a
rooster! [_He struts up and down._] I am beautiful. I am proud. I
walk--then I stand still. I give a skip or two, I tread a measure.--I
shock the cart sometimes by my boldness with the fair, so that it raises
scandalised shafts in horror to the sky!--Hang care!--A barleycorn--Eat
and be merry.--The gear upon my head and under my eye is a far more
gorgeous red, when I puff out my chest and strut, than any robin’s
waistcoat or finch’s tie.--A fine day. All is well. I curvet--I blow my
horn. Conscious of having done my duty, I may quite properly assume the
swagger of a musketeer, and the calm commanding bearing of a cardinal.
I can--
A VOICE
[_Loud and gruff._] Beware, Chantecler!
CHANTECLER
What silly beast is bidding me beware?