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It was easy enough to make eyes more perfect than our own, and ears with a larger range of sound; but they could neither see nor hear, because they were not susceptible to the Life Force. But it was far worse when I discovered how to make them susceptible; for the first thing that happened was that they ceased to be eyes and ears and turned into heaps of maggots. ECRASIA. Disgusting! Please stop.
You must take what he gives you, or leave it if you are not worthy of it. Ho! May I not leave it because it is not worthy of me? ARJILLAX. Of you! Hold your silly tongue, you conceited humbug. What do you know about it? ECRASIA. I know what every person of culture knows: that the business of the artist is to create beauty.
When I was a child, Ecrasia, I, too, was an artist, like your sculptor friends there, striving to create perfection in things outside myself. I made statues: I painted pictures: I tried to worship them. THE HE-ANCIENT. I had no such skill; but I, like Acis, sought perfection in friends, in lovers, in nature, in things outside myself. Alas! I could not create if. I could only imagine it.
You see, children, we have to put things very crudely to you to make ourselves intelligible. THE HE-ANCIENT. And I am afraid we do not quite succeed. STREPHON. Very kind of you to come at all and talk to us, I'm sure. ECRASIA. Why do the other ancients never come and give us a turn? THE SHE-ANCIENT. It is difficult for them.
Suppose the woman had reproduced in some prehistoric way instead of being oviparous as we are? She couldn't have done it with a modern female body. Besides, the experiment might have been painful. ECRASIA. Then you have nothing to shew us at all? PYGMALION. Oh yes I have. I am not so easily beaten as that.
ARJILLAX. For once, Ecrasia, I agree with you. A world in which there were nothing plastic would be an utterly miserable one. ECRASIA. No limbs, no contours, no exquisite lines and elegant shapes, no worship of beautiful bodies, no poetic embraces in which cultivated lovers pretend that their caressing hands are wandering over celestial hills and enchanted valleys, no ECRASIA. Inhuman!
THE NEWLY BORN. We loathe them. ECRASIA. They are noisome. ACIS. I don't want to be hard on the poor devils; but they are making me feel uneasy in my inside. I never had such a sensation before. MARTELLUS. I took a lot of trouble with them. But as far as I am concerned, destroy them by all means. I loathed them from the beginning. ALL. Yes, yes: we all loathe them. Let us calcine them.
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