_] Really?
SECOND TOAD
More and more his song confesses itself effete--
THE BIG TOAD
Mawkish!
THIRD TOAD
Null!
FOURTH
[_Contemptuously._] And his old-fashioned pretense of inspiration!
FIFTH TOAD
And the name he has adopted: Bul-bul!
ALL THE TOADS
[_Puffing with laughter._] Bul-bul!
THE BIG TOAD
This is the way he goes on: [_Parodying the song of the_ NIGHTINGALE.]
Tio! Tio!
SECOND TOAD
His solitary idea is an old silver trill copied from the bubbling
spring. [_He imitates in grotesque fashion the singing of the_
NIGHTINGALE.] Tio! Tio!
CHANTECLER
But--
THE BIG TOAD
[_Quickly._] Do not attempt, you, the Renovator of Art, to defend that
ancient high authority on sentimental gargling!
SECOND TOAD
That superannuated tenor quavering out his cavatinas to the glory of
minor poetry and the edification of fogydom!
THIRD TOAD
The Harp that twanged through Tara's hall, and insists on twanging
still!
CHANTECLER
[_Indulgently._] But why should he not, after all, if he enjoys it?
THE BIG TOAD
Endeavouring to impose on a suffering and surfeited public the musty old
fashion of ingenious fioritura!
CHANTECLER
Audiences nowadays, of course, look for a different sort of thing.
THIRD TOAD
Your song has exposed the artificiality of his.
ALL
[_In an explosion._] Down with Bul-bul!
CHANTECLER
[_Whom the_ TOADS _have gradually surrounded.
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