VON SUPPE

MY FAIR GALATEA

(one act, cast of four, SMIT, or SMTB, with offstage chorus)

Pygmalion, the sculptor, in love with his own exquisite creation, prays to Venus to bring it to life:

Venus, I pray,

Bending this way,

Pity my longing, be touched by a tear.

Breathe on the stone

Warmth of your own,

Lending your voice so sweet to hear.

Bring it to flowerr

Filled with the fire,

Stirred by the power

Of love and desire.

Goddess, awaken this cold inanimate form;

Make it tender and warm . . .

Galatea indeed awakens, and is charmed by the unfamiliar sound of music:

Gentle lyre,

With song inspire

My heart now warm and human.

Be my friend

As I ascend

The path to be a woman.

Slumber is over!

I leave my deep

And tranquil sleep.

I’m off to discover

The mystery of parts unknown,

To seek adventure on my own.

Music, be

My master key

That opens giant portals.

Speak and say

What role I play

Among these frantic mortals.

Too long I’ve waited!

A spark of light

Dispels the night.

Alive, animated,

I yearn for what they call romance,

To revel in life’s fleeting dance.

Midas, the merchant, woos her with less etherial enticements:

Here is jewelry to beggar all description,

Never, never to be found in local shops.

Have a chain of silver said to be Egyptian,

From the giant pyramid of King Cheops.

And a token, just a little rash and reckless,

A tiara to elicit ah’s and oohs’s;

With a simply devastating diamond necklace,

Not to mention half a dozen IOU’s.

I’ve a coronet of corral

Positively immoral,

As created for the ladies

Of the Tigris and Euphrates.

On my knees I offer this.

So take it, take it all

For just a kiss.

The miracle calls for celebration:

If nights are long and days are glum.

You pass around the pitcher;

The lawyer and the clown become

Content, though seldom richer.

Oh, gift divine!

Hooray for wine!

It clears the mind and warms the wit,

So give me lots and lots of it!

Galatea quickly becomes knowledgeable on the ways of the world:

Romance was never meant for those

Who value comfort and repose.

The game of love is fun to play

If first you throw the rules away.

Asleep till not so long ago,

A thing or two I seem to know:

A man is not so hard to get --

You smile and sigh and spread the net . . .

Galatea falls in love, but unfortunately, not with the sculptor who created her.