Original Plays [First Series]

SCENE: _Same as Act I._

[_PYGMALION discovered at work on an unfinished statue._]

_Pyg._ To-morrow my Cynisca comes to me; Would that she had never departed hence! It took a miracle to make me false, And even then I was but false in thought; A less exacting wife might be appeased By that reflection. But Pygmalion Must be immaculate in every thought, Even though Heaven’s armaments be ranged Against the fortress of his constancy!

_Enter MYRINE, in great excitement._

_Myr._ Pygmalion!

_Pyg._ Myrine!

_Myr._ Touch me not, Thou hast deceived me, and deceived thy wife! Who is the woman thou didst send to me To share my roof last night?

_Pyg._ Be pacified; Judge neither of us hastily; in truth She is pure, as innocent as thou.

_Myr._ Oh, miserable man--confess the truth! Disguise not that of which she boasts aloud!

_Pyg._ Of what then does she boast?

_Myr._ To all I say She answers with one parrot-like reply, “I love Pygmalion”--and when incensed I tell her that thou hast a cheated wife, She only says, “I love Pygmalion, I and my life are his, and his alone!” Who is this shameless woman, sir? Confess!

_Pyg._ Myrine, I will tell thee all. The gods, To punish my expressed impiety, Have worked a miracle, and brought to life My statue Galatea!

_Myr._ (_incredulously_). Marvelous, If it be true!

_Pyg._ It’s absolutely true.

(_MYRINE opens the curtains and sees the pedestal empty._)

_Myr._ The statue’s gone! (_GALATEA appears at door._)

_Pyg._ The statue’s at the door!

_Gal._ At last we meet? Oh! my Pygmalion! What strange, strange things have happened since we met.

_Pyg._ Why, what has happened to thee?

_Gal._ Fearful things! (_To MYR._) I went with thee into thine house--

_Myr._ Well, well.

_Gal._ And then I sat alone and wept--and wept A long, long time for my Pygmalion. Then by degrees, by tedious degrees, The light--the glorious light!--the god-sent light! I saw it sink--sink--sink--behind the world! Then I grew cold--cold--as I used to be, Before my loved Pygmalion gave me life. Then came the fearful thought that, by degrees, I was returning into stone again! How bitterly I wept and prayed aloud That it might not be so! “Spare me, ye gods! Spare me,” I cried, “for my Pygmalion. A little longer for Pygmalion! Oh, take me not so early from my love; Oh, let me see him once--but once again!” But no--they heard me not, for they are good, And had they heard, must needs have pitied me; They had not seen _thee_, and they did not know The happiness that I must leave behind. I fell upon thy couch (_To MYRINE_); my eyelids closed; My senses faded from me one by one; I knew no more until I found myself, After a strange dark interval of time, Once more upon my hated pedestal, A statue--motionless--insensible; And then I saw the glorious gods come down! Down to this room! the air was filled with them! They came and looked upon Pygmalion, And, looking on him, kissed him one by one, And said, in tones that spoke to me of life, “We can not take her from such happiness! Live, Galatea, for his love!” And then The glorious light that I had lost came back-- There was Myrine’s room, there was her couch, There was the sun in heaven; and the birds Sang once more in the great green waving trees, As I had heard them sing--I lived once more To look on him I love!

_Myr._ ’Twas but a dream! Once every day this death occurs to us, Till thou and I and all who dwell on earth Shall sleep to wake no more!

_Gal._ To wake no more?

_Pyg._ That time must come--may be not yet awhile-- Still it must come, and we shall all return To the cold earth from which we quarried thee.

_Gal._ See how the promises of new-born life Fade from the bright hope-picture, one by one! Love for Pygmalion, a blighting sin; _His_ love a shame that he must hide away; Sleep, stone-like senseless sleep, our natural state; And life a passing vision born thereof! How the bright promises fade one by one!

_Myr._ Why there are many men whom thou may’st love; But not Pygmalion--he has a wife.

_Gal._ Does no one love him?

_Myr._ Certainly--I do. He is my brother.

_Gal._ Did he give thee life?

_Myr._ Why no; but then--

_Gal._ He did not give thee life, And yet thou lovest him! And why not I Who owe my very being to his love?

_Pyg._ Well, thou may’st love me--as a father.

_Myr._ Yes; He is thy father, for he gave thee life.

_Gal._ Well, as thou wilt; it is enough to know That I may love thee. Wilt thou love me too?

_Pyg._ Yes, as a daughter; there, that’s understood.

_Gal._ Then I am satisfied.

_Myr._ (_aside_). Indeed I hope Cynisca also will be satisfied! [_Exit MYRINE._

_Gal._ (_To PYG._) Thou art not going from me?

_Pyg._ For a while.

_Gal._ Oh, take me with thee; leave me not alone With these cold emblems of my former self! (_Alluding to statues._) I dare not look on them!

_Pyg._ Leucippe comes, And he shall comfort thee till I return; I’ll not be long!

_Gal._ Leucippe! Who’s he?

_Pyg._ A valiant soldier.

_Gal._ What is that?

_Pyg._ A man, Who’s hired to kill his country’s enemies.

_Gal._ (_horrified_). A paid assassin!

_Pyg._ (_annoyed_). Well, that’s rather strong. There spoke the thoroughly untutored mind; So coarse a sentiment might fairly pass With mere Arcadians--a cultured state Holds soldiers at a higher estimate. In Athens--which is highly civilized-- The soldier’s social rank is in itself Almost a patent of nobility.

_Gal._ He kills! And he is paid to kill!

_Pyg._ No doubt. But then he kills to save his countrymen.

_Gal._ Whether his countrymen be right or wrong?

_Pyg._ He don’t go into that--it’s quite enough That there are enemies for him to kill: He goes and kills them when his orders come.

_Gal._ How terrible! Why, my Pygmalion, How many dreadful things thou teachest me! Thou tellest me of death--that hideous doom That all must fill; and having told me this-- Here is a man, whose business is to kill: To filch from other men the priceless boon That thou hast given me--the boon of life-- And thou defendest him!

_Pyg._ I have no time To make these matters clear--but here he comes, Talk to him--thou wilt find him kind and good, Despite his terrible profession.

_Gal._ (_in great terror_). No! I’ll not be left with him, Pygmalion. Stay! He is a murderer!

_Pyg._ Ridiculous! Why, Galatea, he will harm thee not: He is as good as brave. I’ll not be long, I’ll soon return. Farewell! [_Exit._

_Gal._ I will obey, Since thou desirest it; but to be left Alone with one whose mission is to kill! Oh, it is terrible!

_Enter LEUCIPPE, with a Fawn that he has shot._

_Leuc._ A splendid shot, And one that I shall never make again!

_Gal._ Monster! Approach me not! (_Shrinking into corner._)

_Leuc._ Why, who is this? Nay, I’ll not hurt thee, maiden!

_Gal._ Spare me, sir! I have not done thy country any wrong! I am no enemy!

_Leuc._ I’ll swear to that! Were Athens’ enemies as fair as thou, She’d never be at loss for warriors.

_Gal._ Oh miserable man, repent! repent! Ere the stern marble claim you once again.

_Leuc._ I don’t quite understand--

_Gal._ Remember, sir, The sculptor who designed you, little thought That when he prayed the gods to give you life, He turned a monster loose upon the world! See, there is blood upon those cruel hands! Oh touch me not!

_Leuc._ (_aside_). Poor crazy little girl! Why--there’s no cause for fear--I’ll harm thee not-- As for the blood, this will account for it (_showing Fawn_).

_Gal._ What’s that?

_Leuc._ A little fawn.

_Gal._ It does not move!

_Leuc._ No, for I wounded her.

_Gal._ Oh, horrible!

_Leuc._ Poor little thing! ’Twas almost accident; I lay upon my back beneath a tree, Whistling the lazy hours away--when lo! I saw her bounding through a distant glade; My bow was handy; in sheer wantonness I aimed an arrow at her, and let fly, Believing that at near a hundred yards So small a being would be safe enough, But, strange to tell, I hit her. Here she is; She moves--poor little lady! Ah, she’s dead!

_Gal._ Oh, horrible! oh, miserable man! What have you done?--(_Takes Fawn into her arms_)-- Why, you have murdered her! Poor little thing! I know not what thou art; Thy form is strange to me; but thou hadst life, And he has robbed thee of it! (_Gives it back to LEUC._) Get you hence! Ere vengeance overtake you!

_Leuc._ Well, in truth, I have some apprehension on that score. It was Myrine’s--though I knew it not! ’Twould pain her much to know that it is dead; So keep the matter carefully from her Until I can replace it. [_Exit LEUCIPPE with Fawn._

_Gal._ Get you hence; I have no compact with a murderer!

_Enter MYRINE._

_Myr._ Why, Galatea, what has frightened thee?

_Gal._ Myrine, I have that to say to thee That thou must nerve thyself to hear. That man-- The man thou lovest--is a murderer!

_Myr._ Poor little maid! Pygmalion, ere he left, Told me that by that name thou didst describe The bravest soldier that our country owns! He’s no assassin, he’s a warrior.

_Gal._ Then what is an assassin?

_Myr._ One who wars Only with weak, defenseless creatures. One Whose calling is to murder unawares. My brave Leucippe is no murderer.

_Gal._ Thy brave Leucippe is no longer brave, He is a mere assassin by thy showing. I saw him with his victim in his arms, His wicked hands dyed crimson with her blood! There she lay, cold and stark--her gentle eyes Glazed with the film of death. She moved but once, She turned her head to him and tried to speak, But ere she could articulate a word Her head fell helplessly, and she was dead!

_Myr._ Why, you are raving, girl! Who told you this?

_Gal._ He owned it; and he gloried in the deed. He told me how, in arrant wantonness, He drew his bow, and smote her to the heart!

_Myr._ Leucippe did all this! Impossible! You must be dreaming!

_Gal._ On my life, it’s true. See, here’s a handkerchief which still is stained With her life-blood--I stanched it with my hand.

_Myr._ Who was his victim?

_Gal._ Nay--I can not tell. Her form was strange to me--but here he comes; Oh, hide me from that wicked murderer!

_Enter LEUCIPPE._

_Myr._ Leucippe, can this dreadful tale be true?

_Leuc._ (_to GAL., aside_). Thou should have kept my secret. See, poor girl, How it distresses her. (_To MYR._) It’s true enough, But Galatea should have kept it close, I knew that it would pain thee grievously.

_Myr._ Some devil must have turned Leucippe’s brain! You did all this?

_Leuc._ Undoubtedly I did. I saw my victim dancing happily Across my field of view--I took my bow, And, at the distance of a hundred yards, I sent an arrow right into her heart. There are few soldiers who could do as much.

_Myr._ Indeed, I hope that there are very few. Oh, miserable man!

_Leuc._ That’s rather hard. Congratulate me rather on my aim, Of which I have some reason now to boast; As for my victim--why, one more or less, What does it matter? There are plenty left! And then reflect--indeed, I never thought That I should hit her at so long a range; My aim was truer than I thought it was, And the poor little lady’s dead!

_Myr._ Alas! This is the calmness of insanity. What shall we do? Go, hide yourself away--

_Leuc._ But--

_Myr._ Not a word--I will not hear thy voice, I will not look upon thy face again; Begone!

_Gal._ Go, sir, or I’ll alarm the house!

_Leuc._ Well, this is sensibility, indeed! Well, they are women--women judge these things By some disjointed logic of their own, That is not given to man to understand. I’m off to Athens--when your reason comes Send for me, if you will. Till then, farewell. [_Exit angrily._

_Myr._ Oh, this must be a dream, and I shall wake To happiness once more!

_Gal._ A dream! no doubt! We both are dreaming, and we dream the same! But by what sign, Myrine, can we tell Whether we dream or wake?

_Myr._ There are some things Too terrible for truth, and this is one.

_Enter PYGMALION, with Fawn._

_Pyg._ Why, what’s the matter with Leucippe, girl? I saw him leave the house and mount his horse With every show of anger.

_Myr._ He is mad, And he hath done a deed I dare not name. Did he say aught to thee before he left?

_Pyg._ Yes; when I asked him what had angered him He threw me this (_showing Fawn_).

_Gal._ (_in extreme of horror_)--His victim! take it hence! I can not look at it!

_Myr._ Why, what is this?

_Gal._ The being he destroyed in wantonness; He robbed it of the life the gods had given. Oh! take it hence, I dare not look on death!

_Myr._ Why, was this all he killed?

_Gal._ (_astonished_). All!!! And enough!

_Myr._ Why, girl--thou must be mad! Pygmalion-- She told me he had murdered somebody, But knew not whom!

_Pyg._ The girl will drive us mad! Bid them prepare my horse--I’ll bring him back. [_Exit MYRINE._

_Gal._ Have I done wrong? Indeed, I did not know: Thou art not angry with me?

_Pyg._ Yes, I am; I’m more than angry with thee--not content With publishing thine unmasked love for me, Thou hast estranged Leucippe from his love Through thine unwarrantable foolishness.

_Enter MIMOS._

_Mim._ Sir, Chrysos and his lady are without.

_Pyg._ I can not see them now. Stay--show them in. [_Exit MIMOS._ (_To GAL._) Go, wait in there. I’ll join thee very soon. [_Exit GALATEA._

_Enter DAPHNE._

_Daph._ Where is Pygmalion?

_Pyg._ Pygmalion’s here.

_Daph._ We called upon you many months ago, But you were not at home--so being here, We looked around us and we saw the stone You keep so carefully behind that veil.

_Pyg._ That was a most outrageous liberty.

_Daph._ Sir! Do you know me?

_Pyg._ You are Chrysos’ wife. Has Chrysos come with you?

_Daph._ He waits without. I am his herald to prepare you for The honor he confers. Be civil, sir, And he may buy that statue; if he does Your fortune’s made!

_Pyg._ (_to MIMOS_). You’d better send him in. [_Exit MIMOS._

_Enter CHRYSOS._

_Chry._ Well--is the young man’s mind prepared?

_Daph._ It is; He seems quite calm. Give money for the stone, I’ve heard that it is far beyond all price, But run it down; abuse it ere you buy.

_Chry._ (_to PYG._) Where is the statue that I saw last year?

_Pyg._ Sir--it’s unfinished--it’s a clumsy thing. I am ashamed of it.

_Chry._ It isn’t good. There’s want of tone; it’s much too hard and thin; Then the half distances are very crude-- Oh--very crude indeed--then it lacks air, And wind and motion, massive light and shade; It’s very roughly scumbled; on my soul The scumbling’s damnable!

_Daph._ (_aside to him_). Bethink yourself! That’s said of painting--this is sculpture!

_Chry._ Eh? It’s the same thing, the principle’s the same; Now for its price. Let’s see--what will it weigh?

_Daph._ A ton, or thereabouts.

_Chry._ Suppose we say A thousand drachmas?

_Pyg._ No, no, no, my lord! The work is very crude and thin, and then Remember, sir, the scumbling--

_Chry._ Damnable! But never mind, although the thing is poor, ’Twill serve to hold a candle in my hall.

_Pyg._ Excuse me, sir; poor though that statue be, I value it beyond all price.

_Chry._ Pooh, pooh! I give a thousand drachmas for a stone Which in the rough would not fetch half that sum!

_Daph._ Why bless my soul, young man, are you aware We gave but fifteen hundred not long since For an Apollo twice as big as that?

_Pyg._ But pardon me, a sculptor does not test The beauty of a figure by its bulk.

_Chry._ Ah! then _she_ does.

_Daph._ Young man, you’d best take care, You are offending Chrysos! [_Exit._

_Chry._ And his wife. (_going._)

_Pyg._ I can not stay to enter into that Sir, once for all, the statue’s not for sale. [_Exit._

_Chry._ Sir, once for all, I will not be denied; Confound it--if a patron of the arts Is thus to be dictated to _by_ art, What comes of that art patron’s patronage? He must be taught a lesson--where’s the stone? (_Goes to pedestal and opens curtains._) It’s gone! (_Enter GALATEA, he stares at her in astonishment._) Hallo! What’s this?

_Gal._ Are you unwell?

_Chry._ Oh, no--I fancied just at first--pooh, pooh! Ridiculous. (_Aside_). And yet it’s very like! (_Aloud_). I know your face, haven’t I seen you in-- In--in (_puzzling himself_).

_Gal._ In marble? Very probably.

_Chry._ Oh, now I understand. Why this must be Pygmalion’s model! Yes, of course it is. A very bold-faced woman, I’ll be bound. These models always are. I’ll speak with her. Come hither, maiden.

_Gal._ (_who has been examining him in great wonder_). Tell, me, what _are_ you?

_Chry._ What _am_ I?

_Gal._ Yes, I mean, are you a man?

_Chry._ Well, yes; I’m told so.

_Gal._ Then believe them not, They’ve been deceiving you.

_Chry._ The deuce they have!

_Gal._ A man is very tall, and straight, and strong, With big brave eyes, fair face, and tender voice. I’ve seen one.

_Chry._ _Have_ you?

_Gal._ Yes, you are no man.

_Chry._ Does the young person take me for a woman?

_Gal._ A woman? No; a woman’s soft and weak, And fair, and exquisitely beautiful. _I_ am a woman; you are not like me.

_Chry._ The gods forbid that I should be like you, And farm my features at so much an hour!

_Gal._ And yet I like you, for you make me laugh; You are so round and red, your eyes so small, Your mouth so large, your face so seared with lines, And then you are so little and so fat!

_Chry._ (_aside_). This is a most extraordinary girl.

_Gal._ Oh, stay--I understand--Pygmalion’s skill Is the result of long experience. The individual who modeled you Was a beginner very probably?

_Chry._ (_puzzled_). No. I have seven elder brothers. Strange That one so young should be so very bold.

_Gal._ This is not boldness, it is innocence; Pygmalion says so, and he ought to know.

_Chry._ No doubt, but I was not born yesterday. (_Sits._)

_Gal._ Indeed!--_I was._ (_He beckons her to sit beside him._) How awkwardly you sit.

_Chry._ I’m not aware that there is any thing Extraordinary in my sitting down. The nature of the seated attitude Does not leave scope for much variety.

_Gal._ I never saw Pygmalion sit like that.

_Chry._ Don’t he sit down like other men?

_Gal._ Of course! He always puts his arm around my waist.

_Chry._ The deuce he does! Artistic reprobate!

_Gal._ But you do not. Perhaps you don’t know how?

_Chry._ Oh yes; I _do_ know how!

_Gal._ Well, do it then!

_Chry._ It’s a strange whim, but I will humor her. You’re sure it’s innocence? (_Does so._)

_Gal._ Of course it is. I tell you I was born but yesterday.

_Chry._ Who is your mother?

_Gal._ Mother! what is that? I never had one. I’m Pygmalion’s child; Have people usually mothers?

_Chry._ Well, That is the rule.

_Gal._ But then Pygmalion Is cleverer than most men.

_Chry._ Yes, I’ve heard That he has powers denied to other men, And I’m beginning to believe it!

_Enter DAPHNE._

_Daph._ Why What’s this? (_CHRYSOS quickly moves away from GAL._)

_Chry._ My wife!

_Daph._ Can I believe my eyes? (_GAL. rises._)

_Chry._ No!

_Daph._ Who’s this woman? Why, how very like--

_Chry._ Like what?

_Daph._ That statue that we wished to buy. The self-same face, the self-same drapery, In every detail it’s identical. Why, one would almost think Pygmalion, By some strange means, had brought the thing to life, So marvelous her likeness to that stone!

_Chry._ (_aside._) A very good idea, and one that I May well improve upon. It’s rather rash, But desperate ills need desperate remedies. Now for a good one. Daphne, calm yourself. You know the statue that we spoke of? Well, The gods have worked a miracle on it, And it has come to life. Behold it here!

_Daph._ Bah! Do you think me mad?

_Gal._ His tale is true. I was a cold unfeeling block of stone, Inanimate--insensible--until Pygmalion, by the ardor of his prayers, Kindled the spark of life within my frame, And made me what I am!

_Chry._ (_aside to GAL._) That’s very good; Go on and keep it up.

_Daph._ You brazen girl, I am his wife!

_Gal._ His wife? (_To CHRYSOS._) Then get you hence. I may not love you when your wife is here.

_Daph._ Why, what unknown audacity is this?

_Chry._ It’s the audacity of innocence: Don’t judge her by the rules that govern you, She was born yesterday, and you were _not_!

_Enter MIMOS._

_Mim._ My lord, Pygmalion’s here.

_Chry._ (_aside_). He’ll ruin all.

_Daph._ (_to MIMOS_). Who is this woman?

_Chry._ Why, I’ve told you, she--

_Daph._ Stop, not a word! I’ll have it from _his_ lips!

_Gal._ Why ask him when I tell you--?

_Daph._ Hold _your_ tongue!

(_To MIMOS._) Who is this woman? If you tell a lie I’ll have you whipped.

_Mim._ Oh, I shall tell no lie! That is a statue that has come to life.

_Chry._ (_Aside to MIMOS_). I’m very much obliged to you! (_Gives him money._)

_Enter MYRINE._

_Myr._ What’s this? Is any thing the matter?

_Daph._ Certainly. This woman--

_Myr._ Is a statue come to life.

_Chry._ I’m very much obliged to _you_!

_Enter PYGMALION._

_Pyg._ How now Chrysos?

_Chry._ The statue!--

_Daph._ Stop!

_Chry._ Let me explain. The statue that I purchased--

_Daph._ Let me speak. Chrysos--this girl, Myrine, and your slave, Have all agreed to tell me she is--

_Pyg._ The statue, Galatea, come to life? Undoubtedly she is!

_Chry._ It seems to me, I’m very much obliged to every one!

_Enter CYNISCA._

_Cyn._ Pygmalion, my love!

_Pyg._ Cynisca here!

_Cyn._ And even earlier than hoped to be. (_Aside_). Why, who are these? (_Aloud._) I beg your pardon, sir, I thought my husband was alone.

_Daph._ (_maliciously_). No doubt. I also thought _my_ husband was alone: We wives are too confiding.

_Cyn._ (_aside to PYGMALION_). Who are these?

_Pyg._ Why, this is Chrysos, this is Daphne. They Have come--

_Daph._ On very different errands, sir. Chrysos has come to see this brazen girl: I have come after Chrysos--

_Chry._ As you keep So strictly to the sequence of events Add this--Pygmalion came after _you_!

_Cyn._ Who is this lady (_alluding to GALATEA_)? Why, impossible!

_Daph._ Oh, not at all!

_Cyn._ (_turning to pedestal_). And yet the statue’s gone!

_Pyg._ Cynisca, miracles have taken place; The gods have given Galatea life!

_Cyn._ Oh, marvelous! Is this indeed the form That my Pygmalion fashioned with his hands?

_Pyg._ Indeed it is.

_Cyn._ Why, let me look at her! Yes, it’s the same fair face--the same fair form; Clad in the same fair folds of drapery!

_Gal._ And dost thou know me then?

_Cyn._ Hear her! she speaks! Our Galatea speaks aloud! Know thee? Why I have sat for hours, and watched thee grow; Sat--motionless as thou--wrapped in his work, Save only that in very ecstasy I hurried ever and anon to kiss The glorious hands that made thee all thou art! Come--let me kiss thee with a sister’s love (_kisses her_). See, she _can_ kiss!

_Daph._ Yes, I’ll be bound she can!

_Cyn._ Why, my Pygmalion, where is the joy That ought to animate that face of thine, Now that the gods have crowned thy wondrous skill?

_Chry._ (_aside to PYG._) Stick to our story; bold-faced though she be, She’s very young, and may perhaps repent; It’s terrible to have to tell a lie, But if it must be told--why, tell it well!

_Cyn._ I see it all. I have returned too soon.

_Daph._ No, I’m afraid you have returned too late! Cynisca, never leave that man again, Or leave him altogether!

_Cyn._ (_astonished_). Why, what’s this?

_Gal._ Oh, madam, bear with him, and blame him not; Judge him not hastily; in every word, In every thought he has obeyed thy wish. Thou badst him speak to me as unto thee; And he and I have sat as lovingly As if thou hadst been present to behold How faithfully thy wishes were obeyed!

_Cyn._ Pygmalion! What is this?

_Pyg._ (_to GAL._) Go, get thee hence; Thou shouldst not see the fearful consequence That must attend those heedless words of thine!

_Gal._ Judge him not hastily, he’s not like this When he and I are sitting here alone. He has two voices, and two faces, madam, One for the world, and one for him and me!

_Cyn._ Thy wife against thine eyes! those are the stakes! Well, thou hast played thy game, and thou hast lost!

_Pyg._ Cynisca, hear me! In a cursed hour I prayed for power to give that statue life. My impious prayer aroused the outraged gods, They are my judges, leave me in their hands; I have been false to them, but not to thee! Spare me!

_Cyn._ Oh, pitiful adventurer! He dares to lose, but does not dare to pay! Come, be a man! See, _I_ am brave enough, And I have more to bear than thou! Behold! I am alone, thou hast thy statue bride! Oh, Artemis, my mistress, hear me now, Ere I remember how I love that man, And in that memory forget my shame! If he in deed or thought hath been untrue, Be just and let him pay the penalty!

(_PYGMALION, with an exclamation, covers his eyes with his hands._)

_Gal._ Cynisca, pity him!

_Cyn._ I know no pity, woman; for the act That thawed thee into flesh has hardened me Into the cursed stone from which thou cam’st. We have changed places; from this moment forth Be _thou_ the wife and I the senseless stone! (_Thrusts GALATEA from her._)