_The three bodies are carried out as directed, Pygmalion into the temple by his bare arms and legs, and the two Figures through the grove by their clothes. Martellus superintends the removal of the Figures, Acis that of Pygmalion. Ecrasia, Arjillax, Strephon, and the Newly Born sit down as before, but on contrary benches; so that Strephon and the Newly Born now face the grove, and Ecrasia and Arjillax the temple. The Ancients remain standing at the altar._ ECRASIA [_as she sits down_] Oh for a breeze from the hills! STREPHON. Or the wind from the sea at the turn of the tide! THE NEWLY BORN. I want some clean air. THE HE-ANCIENT. The air will be clean in a moment. This doll flesh that children make decomposes quickly at best; but when it is shaken by such passions as the creatures are capable of, it breaks up at once and becomes horribly tainted. THE SHE-ANCIENT. Let it be a lesson to you all to be content with lifeless toys, and not attempt to make living ones. What would you think of us ancients if we made toys of you children? THE NEWLY BORN [_coaxingly_] Why do you not make toys of us? Then you would play with us; and that would be very nice. THE SHE-ANCIENT. It would not amuse us. When you play with one another you play with your bodies, and that makes you supple and strong; but if we played with you we should play with your minds, and perhaps deform them. STREPHON. You are a ghastly lot, you ancients. I shall kill myself when I am four years old. What do you live for? THE HE-ANCIENT. You will find out when you grow up. You will not kill yourself. STREPHON. If you make me believe that, I shall kill myself now. THE NEWLY BORN. Oh no. I want you. I love you. STREPHON. I love someone else. And she has gone old, old. Lost to me for ever. THE HE-ANCIENT. How old? STREPHON. You saw her when you barged into us as we were dancing. She is four. THE NEWLY BORN. How I should have hated her twenty minutes ago! But I have grown out of that now. THE HE-ANCIENT. Good. That hatred is called jealousy, the worst of our childish complaints. _Martellus, dusting his hands and puffing, returns from the grove._ MARTELLUS. Ouf! [_He sits down next the Newly Born_] That job's finished. ARJILLAX. Ancients: I should like to make a few studies of you. Not portraits, of course: I shall idealize you a little. I have come to the conclusion that you ancients are the most interesting subjects after all. MARTELLUS. What! Have those two horrors, whose ashes I have just deposited with peculiar pleasure in poor Pygmalion's dustbin, not cured you of this silly image-making! ARJILLAX. Why did you model them as young things, you fool? If Pygmalion had come to me, I should have made ancients of them for him. Not that I should have modelled them any better. I have always said that no one can beat you at your best as far as handwork is concerned. But this job required brains. That is where I should have come in.