THE FEMALE FIGURE [_fondly_] My man! My hero husband! I am proud of you.
I love you.
MARTELLUS. We must send out a message for an ancient.
ACIS. Need we bother an ancient about such a trifle? It will take less
than half a second to reduce our poor Pygmalion to a pinch of dust. Why
not calcine the two along with him?
MARTELLUS. No: the two automata are trifles; but the use of our powers
of destruction is never a trifle. I had rather have the case judged.
_The He-Ancient emerges from the grove. The Figures are panic-stricken._
THE HE-ANCIENT [_mildly_] Am I wanted? I feel called. [_Seeing the body
of Pygmalion, and immediately taking a sterner tone_] What! A child
lost! A life wasted! How has this happened?
THE FEMALE FIGURE [_frantically_] I didn't do it. It was not me. May
I be struck dead if I touched him! It was he [_pointing to the Male
Figure_].
ALL [amazed at the lie] Oh!
THE MALE FIGURE. Liar. You bit him. Everyone here saw you do it.
THE HE-ANCIENT. Silence. [_Going between the Figures_] Who made these
two loathsome dolls?
THE MALE FIGURE [_trying to assert himself with his knees knocking_] My
name is Ozymandias, king of--
THE HE-ANCIENT [_with a contemptuous gesture_] Pooh!
THE MALE FIGURE [_falling on his knees_] Oh dont, sir.
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