Standard Selections Part 81

PYG. Well--let me see.

Oh--you were quarried in Pentelicus; I modeled you in clay--my artisans Then roughed you out in marble--I, in turn, Brought my artistic skill to bear on you, And made you what you are--in all but life-- The G.o.ds completed what I had begun, And gave the only gift I could not give.

GAL. Then is this life?

PYG. It is.

GAL. And not long since I was a cold, dull stone. I recollect That by some means I knew that I was stone, That was the first dull gleam of conscience; I became conscious of a chilly self, A cold immovable ident.i.ty, I knew that I was stone, and knew no more; Then, by an imperceptible advance, Came the dim evidence of outer things, Seen--darkly and imperfectly--yet seen-- The walls surrounded me, and I, alone, That pedestal--that curtain--then a voice That called on Galatea! At that word, Which seemed to shake my marble to the core, That which was dim before, came evident.

Sounds, that had hummed around me, indistinct, Vague, meaningless--seemed to resolve themselves Into a language I could understand; I felt my frame pervaded with a glow That seemed to thaw my marble into flesh; Its cold hard substance throbbed with active life, My limbs grew supple, and I moved--I lived!

Lived in the ecstasy of new born life; Lived in the love of him that fas.h.i.+oned me; Lived in a thousand tangled thoughts of hope, Love, grat.i.tude, thoughts that resolved themselves Into one word, that word, Pygmalion! [_Kneels._

PYG. I have no words to tell thee of my joy, O woman--perfect in thy loveliness.

GAL. What is that word? Am I a woman?

PYG. Yes.

GAL. Art thou a woman?

PYG. No, I am a man.

GAL. What is a man?

PYG. A being strongly framed, To wait on woman, and protect her from All ills that strength and courage can avert; To work and toil for her, that she may rest; To weep and mourn for her, that she may laugh; To fight and die for her, that she might live!

GAL. I'm glad I am a woman. [_He leads her down._

PYG. So am I.

GAL. That I escape the pains thou hast to bear?

PYG. That I may undergo those pains for thee.

GAL. With whom then wouldst thou fight?

PYG. With any man Whose word or deed gave Galatea pain.

GAL. Then there are other men in this strange world?

PYG. There are indeed.

GAL. And other women?

PYG. Yes; Though for the moment I'd forgotten it; Yes, other women.

GAL. And for all of these Men work, and toil, and mourn, and weep and fight?

PYG. It is man's duty, if he's called upon, To fight for all; he works for those he loves.

GAL. Then by thy works I know thou lovest me.

PYG. Indeed, I love thee!

GAL. With what kind of love?

PYG. I love thee as a sculptor does his work!

[_Aside._] There is diplomacy in that reply.

GAL. My love is different in kind to thine; I am no sculptor, and I've done no work, Yet I do love thee; say--what love is mine?

PYG. Tell me its symptoms--then I'll answer thee.

GAL. Its symptoms? Let me call them as they come.

A sense that I am made by thee for thee, That I've no will that is not wholly thine, That I've no thought, no hope, no enterprise, That does not own thee as its sovereign; That I have life, that I may live for thee, That I am thine--that thou and I are one!

What kind of love is that?

PYG. A kind of love That I shall run some risk in dealing with.

GAL. And why, Pygmalion?

PYG. Such love as thine A man may not receive, except indeed From one who is, or is to be, his wife.

GAL. Then I will be thy wife.

PYG. That may not be; I have a wife--the G.o.ds allow but one.

GAL. Why did the G.o.ds then send me here to thee?

PYG. I cannot say--unless to punish me For unreflecting and presumptuous prayer!

I prayed that thou shouldst live. I have my prayer, And now I see the fearful consequence That must attend it!

GAL. Yet thou lovest me?

PYG. Who could look on that face and stifle love?

GAL. Then I am beautiful?

PYG. Indeed thou art.

GAL. I wish that I could look upon myself, But that's impossible.

PYG. Not so indeed, This mirror will reflect thy face. Behold!

GAL. How beautiful! I am very glad to know That both our tastes agree so perfectly; Why, my Pygmalion, I did not think That aught could be more beautiful than thou, Till I behold myself. Believe me, love, I could look in this mirror all day long.

So I'm a woman.

PYG. There's no doubt of that!

GAL. Oh happy maid to be so pa.s.sing fair!