ul! 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.
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