ALL --the c.o.c.k, because--[_They fly off. Silence._]

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Coming slowly from behind the kennel._] I am beginning to love him!

CURTAIN

ACT SECOND

THE MORNING OF THE c.o.c.k

_Wild hillside, moss-grown and ferny, overlooking a valley with scattered villages and winding river. Ruined wall, fragment of some vanished terrace. Gigantic chestnut tree, rank hollies and foxgloves.

Litter suggesting neglected corner of a park: gardening implements lying on the ground, f.a.gots, broken flower-pots._

SCENE FIRST

_The_ NIGHT-BIRDS, _of all sorts and sizes, form a great circle, perching in tiers on the branches, the briers, the stones; the_ CAT _crouches in the gra.s.s; the_ BLACKBIRD _hops. .h.i.ther and thither on a f.a.got._

_At the rise of the curtain the_ NIGHT-BIRDS _are discovered, motionless, black shapes with closed eyes. The_ GRAND DUKE _is perched upon a tree branch above the rest. The_ SCREECH-OWL'S _phosph.o.r.escent eyes alone are wide open. He proceeds with the roll-call, and at every name two great round eyes brighten in the dark._

THE SCREECH-OWL [_Calling._] Strix! [_Two eyes light up._] Scops! [_Two more eyes light up._] Grand-Duke! [_Two more eyes._] Metascops! [_Two more eyes._]

Minor! [_Two more eyes._]

ONE NIGHT-BIRD [_To the other._] The Great Bubo presides.

THE SCREECH-OWL [_Calling._] Owl of the Wall! Of the Belfry! Of the Cloister! Of the Yew! [_At every name two more eyes have opened wide._]

A NIGHT-BIRD [_To another just arriving._] The roll is called!

THE OTHER I know. All there is to do is to open our eyes.

THE SCREECH-OWL Asio! Nictea! Nyctalis! [_Three more pairs of eyes have opened._]

Brachyotus! [_No eye opening at the name, he repeats._] Brachyotus!

ONE OF THE NIGHT-BIRDS He will be here directly. He stopped to eat a linnet.

BRACHYOTUS [_Arriving._] Present!

THE SCREECH-OWL Not one of them would miss, when the meeting relates to the c.o.c.k!

BRACHYOTUS Not one!

THE SCREECH-OWL Carine! [_Two eyes open._] Caparacoch! [_No eye opening, he repeats emphatically._] Ca-pa-ra-coch!--Well?--Well?

CAPARACOCH [_Arriving out of breath, opens his eyes, faltering an excuse. _] I live a long way off!

THE SCREECH-OWL [_Dryly._] You should have started the earlier! [_Looking around._] We are all present, I believe. [_Calling._] Flammeolus! And Flammeoline!

[_All the eyes are now open._]

THE GRAND-DUKE [_Solemnly._] Before beginning, let us give, but not too loud, the cry which makes us all as one!

ALL Long live the Night!

_And in a weird, savage, hurried chorus, interspersed with hoots and flapping of wings, all talking together and rocking themselves in hideous glee._

THE GRAND-DUKE Praise the Night, discreet, propitious, When with wadded wing and muted O'er the sleeping world we fly, And the partridge in the bracken Ne'er suspects the hovering presence Till we pounce without a cry.

THE SCREECH-OWL Praise the Night, convenient, secret, When in slaughtering baby rabbits We can do it at our ease, Daub the gra.s.s with blood in comfort, Spare the pains to look like heroes, Be ourselves where no one sees!

AN OLD HORNED-OWL Praise the density of darkness!

A WOOD-OWL The intensity of stillness Letting crunching bones be heard!

A BARN-OWL Freshness pleasantly contrasting With the genial warmth of blood drops Spurting from a strangled bird!

THE WOOD-OWL Praise the black rock oozing terror!

THE SCREECH-OWL And the cross-roads where our screeches, Furrowing the startled air, Our demoniac yelling, hooting, Make the hardened unbeliever Cross himself and fall to prayer!

THE GRAND-DUKE Praise the snares of the great Weaver, Night, whose only fault or weakness Is her tolerance of stars!

THE SCREECH-OWL For spectators are not wanted At the work of plucking fledglings-- Be they Jupiter and Mars!

THE GRAND-DUKE Praise the Night, when we take vengeance On the goldfinch for his beauty, On the t.i.tmouse for his grace!

When the darkness takes possession Let them tremble, those confiding Hostages of Day's!

THE WOOD-OWL For there is a choice in murder!

THE GRAND-DUKE And the inkier the blackness All the clearer do we see To select the whitest pigeon In the dove-cote, and the bluest Blue jay on the shuddering tree!

THE BARN-OWL Praise the hour and taste and relish Of the eggs we suck, destroying Hopes of many a haughty line!

THE SCREECH-OWL And the councils where in whispers We prepare what shall resemble Accidents by every sign!

THE GRAND-DUKE Praise the shadow's grim suggestions!

The advantage over others We inherit through their fright!

THE SCREECH-OWL For our grisly cachinnations Give the very eagle goose-flesh--

ALL TOGETHER Praise our patroness, the Night!

THE GRAND-DUKE And now let the Screech-Owl in his russet robe take the floor.

SEVERAL VOICES Silence!