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?