Of bringing stone to life. I’ll question him
And ascertain how far that power extends.
Enter Myrine, weeping.
Myrine—and in tears! Why, what’s amiss?
Myr. Oh, we were all so happy yesterday,
And now, within twelve miserable hours,
A blight has fallen upon all of us.
Pygmalion is blind as death itself,
Cynisca leaves his home this very day,
And my Leucippe hath deserted me!