A sense that I am made by thee for thee.
That I’ve no will that is not wholly thine,
That I’ve no thought, no hope, no enterprise,
That does not own thee as its sovereign;
That I have life that I may live for thee,
That I am thine—that thou and I are one!
What kind of love is that?
Pyg. A kind of love
That I shall run some risk in dealing with.
Gal. And why, Pygmalion?