_]
Co--I cannot sing any more, I, whose method was not to know how, but be
quite certain why! [_In a cry, of despair._] I have nothing left! They
have taken everything from me, my song and everything else. How shall I
get it back?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Opening her wings._] Come away to the woods!
CHANTECLER
[_Falling upon her breast._] I love you!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
To the woods, where the simple birds sing their sweet unconscious songs!
CHANTECLER
Let us go! [_Both go toward the back._ CHANTECLER _turning._] But there
is one thing I wish to say--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Trying to lead him away._] Come to the woods!
CHANTECLER
--to all the Guineahennery gathered beneath these arbors. Let the
garden--the Bees agree with me, I fancy!--let the garden work untroubled
at changing its blossoms into fruit--
BUZZING OF BEES
_We agree--ee--ee_!
CHANTECLER
Nothing good is ever accomplished in the midst of noise. Noise prevents
the bough--
BUZZING
[_Further off._]
_So say we--e--e! we--e--e_!
CHANTECLER
--from bringing its apple to perfection, prevents the grape--
BUZZING
[_Dying away among the foliage._] _So say we--e--e_!
CHANTECLER
--from ripening on the vine. [_Going toward the back with the_
PHEASANT-HEN.] Let us go! [_Turning and coming again angrily toward the
front._] But I wish furthermore to say to these H--[_The_ PHEASANT-HEN
_lays her wing across his beak.
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