Give it up, old man. The answer is -- don't.
ANALYTIKOS. Such endless variety, and yet ----
MENELAUS [with the conviction of finality]. There are only two
sorts of women! Those who are failures and those who realize it.
ANALYTIKOS. Is not Penelope, the model wife of your cousin
Ulysses, an exception?
MENELAUS. Duty is the refuge of the unbeautiful. She is as
commonplace as she is ugly. [And then with deep bitterness.] Why
didn't he marry Helen when we all wanted her? He was too wise
for that. He is the only man I've ever known who seems able to
direct destiny.
ANALYTIKOS. You should not blame the Gods for a lack of will.
MENELAUS [shouting]. Will! Heaven knows I do not lack the will to
rid myself of this painted puppet, but where is the instrument
ready to my hand?
[At this moment a SHEPHERD of Apollonian beauty leaps across the
rail of the balcony and bounds into the room. MENELAUS and
ANALYTIKOS start back in amazement.]
ANALYTIKOS. Who are you?
PARIS. An adventurer.
ANALYTIKOS. Then you have reached the end of your story. In a
moment you will die.
PARIS. I have no faith in prophets.
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