Chry. (aside). Unhappily, they were!
Daph.Come home, but mind
I’ll sell my gallery of goddesses;
No good can come of animating stone.
Chry. Oh, pardon me—why every soul on earth
Sprang from the stones Deucalion threw behind.
Daph. But then Deucalion only threw the stones,
He left it to the gods to fashion them.
Chry. (aside—looking at her). And we who’ve seen the work the gods turn out,
Would rather leave it to Pygmalion!