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You are saddening us; and you are chasing the light away. It is growing dark. ACIS. Night is falling. The light will come back tomorrow. THE NEWLY BORN. What is tomorrow? All begin trooping into the temple. What ARJILLAX. Silence. Little children should be seen and not heard. ECRASIA. Ungraceful. You must not do that. THE NEWLY BORN. I will do what I like.
He saw the d'Aiglemonts, the d'Aldriggers, and Beaudenord. Poor little Isaure and Godefroid playing at love, what were they but Acis and Galatea under the rock which a hulking Polyphemus was about to send down upon them?" "That monkey of a Bixiou has something almost like talent," said Blondet.
The dressing begins. The Newly Born chuckles with delight. THE MAIDEN. Your arms go here, dear. Isnt it pretty? Youll look lovely. Oh!! Oh!!! Oh!!!! ANOTHER YOUTH. No: the other arm: youre putting it on back to front. You are a silly little beast. ACIS. Here! Thats it. Now youre clean and decent. Up with you! Here she is, Ancient: put her through the catechism.
ACIS. Just fancy: that old girl has been going for seven hundred years and hasnt had her fatal accident yet; and she is not a bit tired of it all. THE NEWLY BORN. How could anyone ever get tired of life? ACIS. They do. That is, of the same life. They manage to change themselves in a wonderful way.
The two operas obtained the same number of performances, but Handel's theatre was seldom full, and many opera-goers were dissatisfied at his giving them oratorios, such as Deborah and Acis, on opera nights; these, however, seem to have been commanded by the King, and that in itself would make them all the more unpopular.
Sooner than not drown me, you are willing to clasp me round the waist and jump overboard with me. ACIS. Oh, stop squabbling. That is the worst of you artists. You are always in little squabbling cliques; and the worst cliques are those which consist of one man. Who is this new fellow you are throwing in one another's teeth? ARJILLAX. Ask Martellus: do not ask me.
The remainder of the season presented nothing of any special interest until on the last night Handel offered his subscribers a new type of entertainment in the shape of Acis and Galatea.
I grant you about the friends perhaps; but the mountains are still the mountains, each with its name, its individuality, its upstanding strength and majesty, its beauty ECRASIA. What! Acis among the rhapsodists! THE HE-ANCIENT. Mere metaphor, my poor boy: the mountains are corpses. THE HE-ANCIENT. Yes.
THE NEWLY BORN. How jolly! What is a sculptor? ACIS. Listen here, young one. You must find out things for yourself, and not ask questions. For the first day or two you must keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut. Children should be seen and not heard. THE NEWLY BORN. Who are you calling a child? Oh! Scandalous. Shameful. Disgraceful. What filth! Is this a joke? Why, theyre ancients!
I want to caress my darling Strephon, not to play with dolls. ACIS. I am in my fourth year; and I have got on very well without your dolls. I had rather walk up a mountain and down again than look at all the statues Martellus and Arjillax ever made. You prefer a statue to an automaton, and a rag doll to a statue. So do I; but I prefer a man to a rag doll. Give me friends, not dolls.
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