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 other 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. [Disappointed.] Oh! then I'm not original? Well-no thou hast indeed a prototype ; But though in stone thou didst resemble her, In life the difference is manifest. Gal. I'm very glad I am lovelier than 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. [Aloud.] Come, Galatea-till my wife returns, My sister shall provide thee with a home; Gal. [Astonished and alarmed.] Pygmalion - let me stay. Pyg. Send It may not be. Come, Galatea, we shall meet again. Gal. [Resignedly.] Do with me as thou wilt, Pygmalion ! Pyg. Yes, very soon. Gal. She'll let me stay with thee? Pyg. Yes, But we shall meet again? and very soon? Gal. How very wonderful! And when thy wife returns, So clever! Pyg. And so very useful. I do not know. Gal. Yes. Pyg. [Aside.] Why should I hide the truth from her? [Aloud.] Alas! I may not see thee then. England, stand fast; let hand and heart be steady; Be thy first word thy last, Ready, ay, ready! We've Raleighs still for Raleigh's part, Beat on through Wellington. England, stand fast; let heart and hand be steady; Be thy first word thy last, - Ready, ay, ready! Men whisper'd that our arm was weak, But let the spear and sword draw near His island shore shall start once more England, stand fast; let heart and hand be steady; Be thy first word thy last, - Ready, ay, ready! TELL ME NOT OF MORROWS, SWEET TELL me not of morrows, sweet; Thine and mine ; Mar not Now with needing more. Neither speak of yesterdays; Lose not Now with backward gaze, Lingering on what went before. Else to-day were incomplete. Nay, but speak of morrows, sweet; Thine and mine, Nay, but speak of yesterdays, |