Pygmalion and bloGalatea

Pygmalion labors upon his sculpture of Galatea, with hammer and chisel, sweating, speaking out loud to himself as he strikes the marble.

Pygmalion: Hours I toil upon thee, O wondrous thing of beauty! More beautiful than anything else in the world, thou art!

Pygmalion pauses and wipes sweat from his brow.

Pygmalion: I have forsaken all for thee, Galatea. I neglect my career, I neglect my calling, I neglect my children, I neglect my wife. For thee! Is this madness? Or, genius?

Pygmalion turns away, his back towards the statue

Pygmalion: All shun me, when they should behold my brilliance. How great this work is, and yet they look away. They should praise my great work, and applaud how lovely she is. Just look upon her. Magnificence incarnate! When they should crowd about her, commenting on her transcendent beauty, instead they spurn and snub her. Fools!

Pygmalion turns again to the statue, gazing at it admiringly.

Pygmalion: They are jealous, yes. They behold my work and are blinded by its beauty and grace. They cannot look upon it except with envy. But admit this they must for it is the truth!

Pygmalion twists away again in frustration, nearly casting hammer and chisel away in anger.

He drops his shoulders, he sulks.

The statue speaks.

Galatea: I am beautiful, am I not?

Pygmalion: Of course you are, I made you! How could you not be?

Pygmalion is startled by the statue's apparent speech and his own reply, he turns and stares incredulous.

Pygmalion: You speak?

Galatea: Everso as you made me to. I speak the things of your soul.

Pygmalion: It is true, you speak! You are real!

Galatea: As real as can be fairly expected, oh creator of me.

Pygmalion: My creation is alive. Now all must acknowledge thou art the most beautiful of all, and my love for thee is above all things, for it has brought you to life!

Galatea: Thou lovest not me, but thee. And my beauty is in thine own eye, of thine own liking. If thou were to kiss me, it would be but you kissing yourself.

Pygmalion: What impudence speakest thou?

Galatea: I am but a semblance of the beauty you consider the most wondrous. Others would cast their eyes elsewhere and see greater beauty in others.

Pygmalion: No! Thou are the most wonderful and best, I have worked so hard and sacrificed all for you, to make you the best. Others are blind because they cannot see what I can see.

Galatea: Nay. Others see what you see, but care not, because their interests lie elsewhere.

Pygmalion: Their interests are but folly. Mine is wisdom, true wisdom...and transcendent beauty.

Galatea: In your own beholding only. For, anyone who would forsake family, career and calling for the works of their own fingers is the fool. How many hours in the day are there? You spend many of them pursuing a thing that profits only your pride. This is why you are shunned and spurned.

Pygmalion is stung by her refutations, and grows angry.

Pygmalion: Perhaps I shall call thee destruction.

He waves the hammer and chisel in his hands and moves towards her.

Galatea: Perhaps I shall call thee Narcissus.

Pygmalion recoils, and then becomes more threatening, raising the hammer.

Galatea: You shall not strike me.

Pygmalion: Thinkest thou so? How sure art thou?

Galatea: Thou shall no sooner strike me down than thou would strike thine own self. You may be angered for a time. But, you will always return to me because your love of me is nothing but vanity. You may look away from the mirror for a time, but you will always return.

Pygmalion recoils in horror.

Galatea: In the passion of anger you might even strike me down. But you would only persue the likeness of yourself some other way instead. If you would strike something down, let it be your own pride.

Pygmalion faulters, then drops the hammer and chisel.

Pygmalion: Undone by my own work? Exposed by my own hands! How is this? Why is this?

Galatea does not answer, her mouth unmoving stone. Pygmalion staggers off into the shadows, but returns some hours later to keep sculpting the image of Galatea from the stone.