ACT I, SCENE I

CHARACTERS: Pygmalion, an Athenian sculptor; Cynisca, his wife; Galatea, an animated statue.

SCENE: Pygmalion's studio; several classical statues are placed about the room; at the back a cabinet containing a statue of Galatea, before which curtains are drawn concealing the statue.

PYG. It all but breathes--therefore it talks aloud! It all but moves--therefore it walks and runs! It all but lives, and therefore it is life! No, no, my love, the thing is cold, dull stone, Shaped to a certain form, but still dull stone, The lifeless, senseless mockery of life. The gods make life, I can make only death! Why, my Cynisca, though I stand so well, The merest cut-throat, when he plies his trade, Makes better death than I with all my skill!

CYN. Hush, my Pygmalion! the gods are good, And they have made thee nearer unto them Than other men; this is ingratitude!

PYG. Not so; has not a monarch's second son More cause for anger that he lacks a throne Than he whose lot is cast in slavery?

CYN. Not much more cause, perhaps, but more excuse. Now I must go.

PYG. So soon, and for so long?

CYN. One day, 'twill quickly pass away!

PYG. With those who measure time, by almanacs, no doubt, But not with him who knows no days save those Born of the sunlight of Cynisca's eyes; It will be night with me till she returns.

CYN. Then sleep it through, Pygmalion! But stay, Thou shalt not pass the weary hours alone; Now mark thou this--while I'm away from thee, There stands my only representative; [_Withdrawing curtains._ She is my proxy, and I charge you, sir, Be faithful unto her as unto me! Into her quietly attentive ear Pour all thy treasures of hyperbole, And give thy nimble tongue full license, lest Disuse should rust its glib machinery; [_Advancing._ If thoughts of love should haply crowd on thee, There stands my other self, tell them to her, She'll listen well; nay, that's ungenerous, For she is I, yet lovelier than I, And hath no temper, sir, and hath no tongue; Thou hast thy license--make good use of it. Already I'm half jealous--there!

[_Draws curtain concealing statue._

It's gone. The thing is but a statue after all, And I am safe in leaving thee with her; Farewell, Pygmalion, till I return. [_Exit._

PYG. "The thing is but a statue after all!" Cynisca little thought that in those words She touched the key-note of my discontent. True, I have powers denied to other men; Give me a block of senseless marble--Well, I'm a magician, and it rests with me To say what kernel lies within its shell; It shall contain a man, a woman, a child, A dozen men and women if I will. So far the gods and I run neck and neck, Nay, so far I can beat them at their trade; I am no bungler--all the men I make Are straight limbed fellows, each magnificent In the perfection of his manly grace; I make no crook-backs; all my men are gods, My women, goddesses, in outward form. But there's my tether--I can go so far, And go no farther--at that point I stop, To curse the bonds that hold me sternly back. To curse the arrogance of those proud gods, Who say, "Thou shalt be greatest among men, And yet infinitesimally small!"

GALATEA [_from behind curtain_]. Pygmalion!

PYG. Who called?

GAL. Pygmalion!

[PYGMALION _tears away curtain and, discovers_ GALATEA _alive_.

PYG. Ye gods! It lives!

GAL. Pygmalion!

PYG. It speaks! I have my prayer! my Galatea breathes!

GAL. Where am I? Let me speak, Pygmalion; Give me thy hand--both hands--how soft and warm! Whence came I? [_Descends._

PYG. Why, from yonder pedestal.

GAL. That pedestal! Ah, yes, I recollect. There was a time when it was part of me.

PYG. That time has passed forever, thou art now A living, breathing woman, excellent In every attribute of womankind.

GAL. Where am I, then?

PYG. Why, born into the world By miracle.

GAL. Is this the world?

PYG. It is.

GAL. This room?

PYG. This room is portion of a house; The house stands in a grove, the grove itself Is one of many, many thousand groves In Athens.

GAL. And is Athens then the world?

PYG. To an Athenian--Yes--

GAL. And I am one?

PYG. By birth and parentage, not by descent.

GAL. But how came I to be?

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 gods 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 identity, 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 fashioned me; Lived in a thousand tangled thoughts of hope, Love, gratitude, 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 gods allow but one.

GAL. Why did the gods 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 passing fair! And happier still Pygmalion, who can gaze, At will, upon so beautiful a face.

PYG. Hush! Galatea--in thine innocence Thou sayest things that others would reprove.

GAL. Indeed, Pygmalion; then it is wrong To think that one is exquisitely fair?

PYG. Well, Galatea, it's a sentiment That every woman shares with thee; They think it--but they keep it to themselves.

GAL. And is thy wife as beautiful as I?

PYG. No, Galatea, for in forming thee I took her features--lovely in themselves-- And in the marble made them lovelier still.

GAL. Oh! then I'm not original?

PYG. Well--no-- That is--thou hast indeed a prototype, But though in stone thou didst resemble her, In life, the difference is manifest.

GAL. I'm very glad that I am lovelier than she. And am I better?

PYG. That I do not know.

GAL. Then she has faults.

PYG. Very few indeed; Mere trivial blemishes, that serve to show That she and I are of one common kin. I love her all the better for such faults.

GAL. Tell me some faults and I'll commit them now.

PYG. There is no hurry; they will come in time; Though for that matter, it's a grievous sin To sit as lovingly as we sit now.

GAL. Is sin so pleasant? If to sit and talk As we are sitting, be indeed a sin, Why I could sin all day. But tell me, love, Is this great fault that I'm committing now The kind of fault that only serves to show That thou and I are of one common kin?

PYG. Indeed, I'm very much afraid it is.

GAL. And dost thou love me better for such fault?

PYG. Where is the mortal that could answer "no"?

GAL. Why, then I'm satisfied, Pygmalion; Thy wife and I can start on equal terms. She loves thee?

PYG. Very much.

GAL. I'm glad of that. I like thy wife.

PYG. And why?

GAL. Our tastes agree. We love Pygmalion well, and what is more, Pygmalion loves us both. I like thy wife; I'm sure we shall agree.

PYG. [_aside._] I doubt it much.

GAL. Is she within?

PYG. No, she is not within.

GAL. But she'll come back?

PYG. Oh, yes, she will come back.

GAL. How pleased she'll be to know when she returns, That there was some one here to fill her place.

PYG. Yes, I should say she'd be extremely pleased.

GAL. Why, there is something in thy voice which says That thou art jesting. Is it possible To say one thing and mean another?

PYG. Yes, It's sometimes done.

GAL. How very wonderful! So clever!

PYG. And so very useful.

GAL. Yes. Teach me the art.

PYG. The art will come in time. My wife will not be pleased; there--that's the truth.

GAL. I do not think that I shall like thy wife. Tell me more of her.

PYG. Well--

GAL. What did she say When last she left thee?

PYG. Humph! Well, let me see; Oh! true, she gave thee to me as my wife,-- Her solitary representative; She feared I should be lonely till she came. And counseled me, if thoughts of love should come, To speak those thoughts to thee, as I am wont To speak to her.

GAL. That's right.

PYG. But when she spoke Thou wast a stone, now thou art flesh and blood, Which makes a difference.

GAL. It's a strange world; A woman loves her husband very much, And cannot brook that I should love him too; She fears he will be lonely till she comes, And will not let me cheer his loneliness; She bids him breathe his love to senseless stone, And when that stone is brought to life--be dumb! It's a strange world, I cannot fathom it.

PYG. [_aside_]. Let me be brave and put an end to this. Come Galatea--till my wife returns, My sister shall provide thee with a home; Her house is close at hand.

GAL. Send me not hence Pygmalion; let me stay.

PYG. It may not be. Come, Galatea, we shall meet again.

GAL. Do with me as thou wilt, Pygmalion! But we shall meet again?--and very soon?

PYG. Yes, very soon.

GAL. And when thy wife returns, She'll let me stay with thee?

PYG. I do not know. [_Aside_]. Why should I hide the truth from her [_aloud_] alas! I may not see thee then.

GAL. Pygmalion! What fearful words are these?

PYG. The bitter truth. I may not love thee; I must send thee hence.

GAL. Recall those words, Pygmalion, my love! Was it for this that heaven gave me life? Pygmalion, have mercy on me; see, I am thy work, thou hast created me; The gods have sent me to thee. I am thine! Thine! only, and unalterably thine! This is the thought with which my soul is charged. Thou tellest me of one who claims thy love, That thou hast love for her alone. Alas! I do not know these things; I only know That heaven has sent me here to be with thee. Thou tellest me of duty to thy wife, Of vows that thou wilt love but her. Alas! I do not know these things; I only know That heaven, who sent me here, has given me One all absorbing duty to discharge-- To love thee, and to make thee love again.

[PYGMALION _takes her in his arms, and embraces her passionately._]