Shall sleep to wake no more!
Gal.To wake no more?
Pyg. That time must come—may be not yet awhile—
Still it must come, and we shall all return
To the cold earth from which we quarried thee.
Gal. See how the promises of new-born life
Fade from the bright hope-picture, one by one!
Love for Pygmalion, a blighting sin;
His love a shame that he must hide away;
Sleep, stone-like senseless sleep, our natural state;