And life a passing vision born thereof!
How the bright promises fade one by one!
Myr. Why there are many men whom thou may’st love;
But not Pygmalion—he has a wife.
Gal. Does no one love him?
Myr.Certainly—I do.
He is my brother.
Gal.Did he give thee life?
Myr. Why no; but then—
Gal.He did not give thee life,