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Rostand, Edmond, 1868-1918

"Chantecler Play in Four Acts"

_] Land him one! Do him up! Lay him out! Have his gore!
PATOU
[_Standing up in his wheelbarrow._] Will you stop behaving like human
beings?
CRIES
[_Furiously keeping time with the blows showering upon_ CHANTECLER.] In
the neck! On the nut! On the wing! On the--[_Sudden silence._]
CHANTECLER
[_Amazed._] What is this? The ring breaks up, the shouting dies--[_He
looks around. The_ WHITE PILE _has drawn away and backed against the
hedge. A strange commotion agitates the crowd._ CHANTECLER, _exhausted,
bleeding, tottering, does not understand, and murmurs._] What joke are
they preparing against my end? [_And suddenly._] Joy, Patou, joy!
PATOU
What?
CHANTECLER
I have done them an injustice. All of them, ceasing to insult and mock
me, look, gather round me, closer and closer--look!
PATOU
[_Seeing them all, in fact, crowding around_ CHANTECLER, _and gazing
anxiously at the sky, looks up too, and says simply._] It is the hawk!
CHANTECLER
Ah! [_A dark shadow slowly sweeps over the motley crowd, who crouch and
cower._]
PATOU
When that great shadow falls, it is not the fine, strange Cocks we trust
to keep off the bird of prey!
CHANTECLER
[_Suddenly grown great of size, his wounds forgotten, stands in the
midst of them, and in an authoritative tone._] Yes, close around me, all
of you, all! [_All, huddled in their feathers, their heads drawn in
between their wings, press against him.


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