EROS AND PSYCHE

NARRATOR: In a far, mountainous kingdom, a king had three daughters. While

his eldest two daughters were as beautiful as any mortals could be,
the youngest seemed to radiate with immortal light—a goddess
among women. Her name was Psyche, and many said she was as
beautiful as Aphrodite herself. And so began Psyche’s troubles.

APHRODITE: (angrily) Eros! Eros!

NARRATOR: In the cloud-built halls of Olympus, the Goddess of Love was pacing
the floor. She called for her young son Eros, whose magical bow and arrows could create
love in any heart.

EROS: (annoyed) Mother! What’s the matter?

NARRATOR: The god Eros floated into the room.

APHRODITE: (distraught) my son, I have horrible news. Those miserable mortals!

EROS: (concerned) what have they done, mother?

APHRODITE: They have committed the worst crime imaginable!

EROS: (angry) Tell me, and we will make them pay for it!

APHRODITE: I can barely utter the words. But they have declared that a mortal
princess—

EROS: Yes?

APHRODITE: Is as beautiful as I am.

EROS: (pause) that’s it? (Laughs) I thought it was something terrible.

APHRODITE: (angry) Eros! You don’t understand? I am the Goddess of Beauty.

Goddess! Do you know what that means? No one’s looks can rival
my own! Especially not a mortal’s!
EROS: Isn’t Beauty in the eye of the beholder?

APHRODITE: How can I expect you to understand? You were not born with my
burden. When I first sprang from the sea foam, they gathered
around me upon the beach and worshipped me. “How glorious is
Aphrodite!” they cried. Beauty has been my title—my right!

EROS: What has changed? You look the exact same as you did when you
were born. Gods don’t age.

APHRODITE: Yes. My skin is still as soft as it ever was. My hair has its old luster.
But over time people grow tired of the same old thing. They look for
something new, something inferior. Ever since the day I was born,
I’ve been defending my title. But, my son, this is the deepest cut of
all.

EROS: (sigh) what would you like me to do?

APHRODITE: I need you to ruin her, of course.

EROS: You want the usual? Make her fall in love with someone hideous
and penniless, right?

APHRODITE: (laughing) that would be perfect. Somebody completely disgusting

like a shepherd or something. They don’t bathe for months!

EROS: (sigh) is this type of thing in my job description somewhere? I

thought I was supposed to use my arrows to bring love, not pain.

APHRODITE: Ha! Love is Pain. You’re bound to figure that out soon enough.
Now, fly down to Earth. Psyche is her name. We’ll make her regret
ever crossing the Goddess of Love!

EROS: (sadly) and he’s off. Eros, the god of gloom and doom.

APHRODITE: (absentmindedly) be careful, Darling. Remember, Mother loves

you. Kisses.
NARRATOR: Eros eased quickly down through the night sky. The stars winked
out at him, socketed in the dark air, and he wondered when he
would find love, real love—not the cheap stuff he doled out with his
flimsy arrows. The stars did not reply, and he flew on.

In an earthbound palace, the princess Psyche sat in her chambers.

She had spent a whole tiring day entertaining suitors from far-off
lands. They all wanted her hand in marriage, but her father had
turned them all away. He was waiting for a sign from the gods.

(Psyche’s two older sisters sat nearby, weaving.)

SISTER ONE: (snottily) So, Psyche, another day of marriage proposals? You must
be exhausted.

SISTER TWO: (snottily) we are so jealous. We wish we weren’t such dogfaces, so

fools could flock to us.

PSYCHE: (tiredly) I didn’t ask them to come.

SISTER ONE: Of course, you didn’t. That’s the beauty of it all. They just showed
up. Like flies to dung.

SISTER TWO: (sarcastically) No one will want trolls like us after seeing you.

SISTER ONE: (sarcastically) uur only consolation is that when the gods take you
to Olympus and make you a goddess, we’ll be able to visit. What
excitement!

SISTER TWO: Our little sister! The new Goddess of Beauty! (Cruel laughing)

PSYCHE: (angrily) you two are just jealous.

SISTER ONE: (angrily) Jealous of what? You being auctioned off like a piece of
meat?

SISTER TWO: At least we will be able to marry for love.

 Once in bed, away from the presence of her sisters, Psyche allowed
her tears to fall.

PSYCHE: My beauty is a curse!

NARRATOR: It was there that Eros found the sobbing girl. He floated above her—
invisible to human eyes.

EROS: (to himself) why does she weep and hide her face? Come, girl. Show
me your charms.

NARRATOR: As if in reply, Psyche raised her head from the cushion. A foreign
feeling came into the god’s stomach—a feeling half of delight, half of
pain. His mission was forgotten. He only knew that this glorious
creature before him was sad, and all he wanted was to make her
supremely happy. He moved to materialize, to make himself known,
and then he remembered…

EROS: (despairingly) I am a god. She is a mortal. We could never be

together.

NARRATOR: To his surprise Eros felt his own heart breaking. How many times
had he cruelly caused this pain in others? He knew one thing:he
could do nothing to cause his maiden more sadness. Eros dissolved
into the night, his task abandoned.

EROS: Mother will be furious. But I don’t care. Today I have learned how
love truly feels.

NARRATOR: The following day, Psyche’s kingly father received a message from
the Oracle of Delphi. The Oracle’s words were grave. The gods were
angered by Psyche’s beauty. The king must sacrifice her or face the
wrath of Olympus.

KING: (in pain) Woe and grief! Send for my daughters at once!

SISTER ONE: (shocked) Father! What has happened?

KING: (through tears) Oh, gods! The Oracle has spoken. I must send
Psyche to the mountaintop.

PSYCHE: What have I done?

KING: The gods are jealous, my sweet. On the mountain, a beast will come
to you—a winged serpent—and you shall be his bride.

NARRATOR: Psyche felt fear rising up in her throat.

KING: I am too old and too weak to resist the will of the gods. They will
destroy us if we disobey.

NARRATOR: Psyche saw her sisters staring at her in amazement. They were not
as thrilled as she had expected them to be.

PSYCHE: (numbly) Then I guess I have no choice. I must go—to be the bride
of the beast.

NARRATOR: When the next dawn broke, wailing was heard in the streets of the
kingdom. Black cloths of mourning were draped from every
balcony. A solemn precession led the princess up the mountain. The
King tore hisbeard as he marched, wailing for mercy. But no mercy
came.

For all their weeping and gnashing of teeth, no one was brave
enough to go against the will of the gods. They left Psyche there—
alone on the mountain to await her monster groom.

A thin rain began to fall. Psyche wrapped her wet robes around her
and closed her eyes. A faraway sound reached her ears—wind,
growing louder and louder, until it was almost upon her.

ZEPHYR: Come.

(The strange voice behind her caused no surprise. Then an unseen

force lifted her from the rock and into the air. Bright light through
her eyelids caused her to open them. Ahead the clouds had parted.
 Perched atop a spindly peak was a palace —shining like the
noonday sun)

PSYCHE: (gasp) this is the home of a serpent?

(She dared to look over her shoulder. To her shock, it was no

winged beast that carried her, but a bearded little man)

PSYCHE: You aren’t a snake!

ZEPHYR: (insulted) Of course, I’m not, you silly girl. I’m Zephyr, the West
Wind.

PSYCHE: They told me a giant serpent was coming to take me away.

ZEPHYR: Sorry to disappoint you.

PSYCHE: You are to be my husband?

ZEPHYR: Good gods, no. The last thing I need is a wife. I’m free! Free as—
well, the wind. Your husband is the master of that golden hall there.
He’s a friend of mine, and I owe him a favor or two.

PSYCHE: Is he a winged serpent?

ZEPHYR: I’ve heard him called plenty of things, but not that. I’m to take you
to his house, and then he’ll be along shortly. You’ll find the spirits of
the house ready to accommodate your every need. You do know
what a spirit is, don’t you?

PSYCHE: (defensively) yes.

They were very near the golden courtyard, and the West Wind
swooped down low and set Psyche neatly upon the front step.

ZEPHYR: All ashore. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s hurricane season.

NARRATOR: Before she could utter a thank you, the little man dissolved into a
breeze and blew away. The palace doors before her opened, and
behind them there stretched a long, hushed hall.
SERVANT: Welcome, Mistress.

PSYCHE: (Psyche saw no one within the hall)

SERVANT: We are here—though you cannot see us. We are the spirits of the
house. We serve the master—your husband.

PSYCHE: (confused) Nice to meet you.

SERVANT: The Master has commanded us to give to you whatever you want.

PSYCHE: I see. Tell me, what kind of being is he?

SERVANT: He is the kindest of masters.

PSYCHE: Can you tell me what he looks like?

SERVANT: As we are invisible to you, he is invisible to us. His goodness is all

that we see.

PSYCHE: Oh.

SERVANT: The Master will arrive tonight—in darkness.

(Psyche acclimated herself to her otherworldly surroundings. The

voices spoke calmly to her, and objects were lifted by invisible
hands)

NARRATOR: As night fell, the voices called her to the sleeping chambers. There
she lay down to await her mysterious husband. Sleep—as if another
spell of the house—overcame her.

(She awoke much later. The room was pitch black, and she felt that
someone or something was very near.)

PSYCHE: (frightened) who is there?

VOICE: (lovingly) your husband.

(Psyche felt his touch upon her arm)

VOICE: Do not be afraid.

PSYCHE: Show yourself!

VOICE: (sadly) I cannot.

PSYCHE: I don’t understand. You tell me not to be afraid, but you are the one
who hides. I have left my home and my family to come to this place.
And yet I am forbidden to see my husband’s face?

VOICE: You can never gaze upon me, Psyche. Your love is all I desire, and
you would never truly love me if you were to see my true nature.

PSYCHE: How can you know that? Blindness is worse than any appearance
could possibly be.

VOICE: I shall keep you here, and we shall spend each night as husband and
wife. Butwhen the day comes, I must be gone from your sight.

PSYCHE: (angrily) that’s unfair! If you make me a prisoner here, you must at
least give me some right…

VOICE: This is the way that it must be. You must learn to live with this
curse as I have. Trust me, Psyche.

NARRATOR: So Psyche’s life began its mysterious routine. She would spend her
days idly, attended by the spirits of the house. In the black midnight
her husband would return to her and caress her in that hour but
then be gone by the dawn.

By some other enchantment, even as they touched, she could never

tell his true form. It shifted beneath her fingers— refusing to be
identified.

He loved her true enough. His attentions showed it, and over time,
the absence of his appearance no longer concerned her.

Whatever her husband truly was, giant serpent or bodiless spirit,

Psyche grew to love him in return.

PSYCHE: Spirits, can I ask you a question?

SERVANT: Certainly, my lady.

PSYCHE: I know I cannot leave, but may I receive visitors?

SERVANT: Of course. Tell us whom you wish to see.

PSYCHE: My family. I miss them so.

SERVANT: Zephyr will deliver them tomorrow. But know that they can only
stay for the course of a day. Before the sun sets, they must be gone.

The next day there was a knock at the palace doors. When Psyche
opened them, her father and her two sisters stood on the front step
—rubbing their eyes in wonder.

KING: (hesitantly) Psyche? What is this place? Is this really happening?

PSYCHE: (overjoyed) Of course, Father! This is where I have lived these many
months!

NARRATOR: Psyche explained the mysterious palace and her mysterious

husband. When they had first arrived, Psyche’s sisters beamed with
happiness, but slowly—as they saw the treasures of her new home—
they began to scowl once again.

SISTER ONE: So this husband of yours—he isn’t really a beast?

PSYCHE: No. I mean—I don’t know—for sure.

SISTER TWO: It’s an easy question. Either he’s a beast or he’s not.

PSYCHE: I’ve never seen him.

SISTER ONE: Never seen him!

SISTER TWO: You mean, he’s invisible like these servants you keep babbling
about.

PSYCHE: No! No! He only comes at midnight! I am not allowed to look at his
face.
SISTER ONE: And you love this thing?

PSYCHE: Well—yes.

SISTER TWO: Oh, Psyche. He obviously does not love you in return. Who would
keep the woman they love prisoner?

SISTER ONE: If he had a pretty face, why would he hide it? He’s obviously some
kind of monster or evil spirit.

PSYCHE: I don’t think—

SISTER TWO: Thank the gods we came here to talk some sense into you.

SISTER ONE: You’re our darling sister, Psyche! We don’t want to see you become
a demon’s prostitute!

PSYCHE: But I don’t know for sure that—

SISTER TWO: That’s true. That’s true. You don’t know for sure.

PSYCHE: He told me I am never to look at his face.

SISTER ONE: You mentioned that. But the question is: why? Why does he hide his
face?

SISTER TWO: Listen to us, Psyche. Tonight, while he visits, you must light a lamp
and look upon him.

SISTER ONE: If he is a man, you have nothing to worry about.

SISTER TWO: But if he’s not—

(Her sister pulled a gleaming knife from the folds of her cloak.)

SISTER ONE: You must end his life—before he ends yours.

PSYCHE: But—I—

KING: Listen to your sisters, Psyche. It may be your only chance of

survival.
SISTER TWO: Don’t you want to come back and live with us?

SISTER ONE: We miss you so, dear sister.

(Psyche nodded, and the knife was passed into her cold hand. After
kissing her family goodbye, Psyche perched on the edge of her bed
—staring solemnly at the little lamp that sat on the nearby table.
The lamp had never been lit. Her knuckles grew white around the
knife handle. Tonight would be the night.

Soon the sun finished its journey across the sky, and darkness
engulfed her.)

VOICE: Psyche, my love.

(He was there—her phantom mate. Tonight she remained silent—

cold and ungiving.

When she finally felt that he had succumbed to sleep, she stood and
took the lamp in her trembling hands. She lit its flame and—
holding her blade ready to strike— turned its light upon the form of
her lover.

What she saw there caused her to gasp. Gracefully asleep in the
half-empty bed was the most glorious boy she had ever seen.
Golden curls built around the handsome features of a god.

PSYCHE: (almost crying) Oh, forgive me, my darling.

It was then, as she moved to snuff her lamp that a tiny bit of oil fell
from it and landed upon his perfect shoulder. His eyes flew open,
quickly moving from the knife, to the lamp, to Psyche.

EROS: (shocked) what are you doing?

Her weapon fell from her hand.

EROS: (hurt) is this all I mean to you? I told you never to look! Why did
you not trust me? You betrayed me.
PSYCHE: I—I—I thought you were a beast.

EROS: (growing angry) What if I had been a beast? Would you have driven
the knife through my heart?

PSYCHE: No! It’s not like that!

EROS: (enraged) Silence! You have broken our agreement! The spell is
undone! This palace will fade away, and you will be alone once
again! But I suppose that is what you wanted, wasn’t it?

PSYCHE: No!

EROS: Foolish girl. Love cannot live where there is no trust. You have
ruined the one thing in life that has brought me true happiness. Go.
Go back to your people. I can stand the sight of you no longer.

PSYCHE: I can undo it.

He turned away.

EROS: There is nothing you can do now. Go back to your mortal world, and
forget that you once loved Eros, the immortal son of Aphrodite.

With final his words the lamp was snuffed. The world was blotted
out.

It was hours before the shining chariot of the sun again rose above
the peaks. On the barren mountaintop no golden walls reflected its
radiance. The palace was gone—evaporated. And where it had been,
a broken girl was hunched upon a rock—her face hot with tears.

ZEPHYR: (clears throat) my lady.

PSYCHE: (sadly) Hello, Zephyr. Once you brought me to this happy place, but
I’ve ruined everything.

ZEPHYR: (soothingly) Don’t cry, my girl. All is not lost.

PSYCHE: (through sobs) What will I do? Eros has left me! How could I ever
win him back?

ZEPHYR: Didn’t you ever wonder why he kept himself a secret from you?

PSYCHE: He is a god, and I am a mortal. It’s obvious now.

ZEPHYR: That may be a part of it, but remember his goddess mother,
Aphrodite. He was protecting you from her. She sent him to ruin
you, you know. But because of his love, he could not.

PSYCHE: I didn’t know.

ZEPHYR: You let me carry you before. Allow me to once again. Let me take
you to her.

PSYCHE: (surprised) To Aphrodite?

ZEPHYR: Who else? Plead your case to her. Grovel at her feet. She’s so vain.
All you have to do is flatter her a bit.

PSYCHE: Will she let me see her son?

ZEPHYR: If we succeed, it’ll be like none of this ever happened.

PSYCHE: (cheerfully) Oh, thank you, Zephyr.

ZEPHYR: (shrugging) Eh. It’s nothing. I can’t stand to see a beautiful maiden
cry. Now, come.

PSYCHE: I’m a mess. I can’t go before a goddess looking like this.

ZEPHYR: Trust me. The worse you look, the better.

She clung tightly to Zephyr, and he carried her high into the clouds.

PSYCHE: Are mortals allowed at Mount Olympus?

ZEPHYR: Some. Just watch your step. The Olympians are a nasty bunch.

Amid the clouds there appeared a mountain—colonnades and

glittering buildings wrapped around it. Zephyr carried Psyche
 toward the palace at the mountain’s peak and sat her down within a
hanging garden.

ZEPHYR: Stay here. I will go before you and announce you.

No sooner had Zephyr left than he flew back into sight, his face
white with fear.

ZEPHYR: Good gracious! I’ve never seen such a fiery temper. She’s infuriated
that I’ve brought you here, but she said she’ll see you. Good luck!

PSYCHE: Thank you!

Psyche took a deep breath. The most fearsome mother-in-law

heaven and earth had ever seen was waiting for her at the other end
of the hallway.

APHRODITE: (shouting) Come in, mortal! Don’t dilly-dally.

Aphrodite’s chamber was all softness and pinks. The goddess eyed
Psyche coldly.

APHRODITE: So—have you come to grovel?

PSYCHE: Yes, your majesty.

The goddess paused.

APHRODITE: I’m waiting.

Psyche sank to the floor.

PSYCHE: O immortal creator of Love and Beauty! I come to beg your pardon
—

APHRODITE: (angrily) I should think so, you little tramp. Taking advantage of my
darling boy like that! Using your beauty to lure him in! I know your
little game! I invented it!

PSYCHE: Forgive me, your majesty.

APHRODITE: Why should I? You nearly killed him with that nasty burn. Right
now, he has taken to bed, sick from the wound you gave him.
(Sniffling) He may not survive.

PSYCHE: (frightened) what? I didn’t mean to—

APHRODITE: Silence! And keep groveling until I tell you to stop.

PSYCHE: I will do any—

APHRODITE: (snarling) did I say you could speak? (Quieter) Now, I have devised
three tasks. If you complete these three tasks, I will consider
forgiving you. They are dangerous tasks, and ones of great
importance. If you fail at any, youwill never see my son again. Do
you accept these tasks? (pause) Why do you not answer?

PSYCHE: You told me not to.

APHRODITE: Don’t be stupid. Of course, I want you to answer.

PSYCHE: I accept.

APHRODITE: (happily) Marvelous! Why not begin immediately? Rise! You have
work to do.

The Goddess of Love gleefully clapped her hands. There was a flash
of light. The two—goddess and girl— were no longer on Mount
Olympus, but on a barren plain.

APHRODITE: Here is your task.

An enormous pile of seeds lay at Psyche’s feet.

APHRODITE: Within this heap is every kind of seed: flax, wheat, poppy, millet.
And—silly me—I mixed them all up. I will return at nightfall, and by
the time I return, you must have sorted all these seeds into separate
piles. Not even one may be misplaced.

PSYCHE: (weakly) But this is impossible.

APHRODITE: My, you are a smart one. Well, you better get started! Farewell!
(gleeful laugh)

NARRATOR: Several hours later, Psyche had managed to separate a small pile of
flax seeds from the mix. Her back ached, her eyes burned, and the
tiny seeds continued to fall through her fingers. She could already
hear Aphrodite laughing.

PSYCHE: Oh, Eros. Why did I doubt you?

As Psyche continued to sort, she noticed a new color of seed in the

pile below her—tiny black seeds she hadn’t seen before.

PSYCHE: (defeated) Have these been here the whole time? (pause) Wait!
They’re moving! Moving seeds?

And indeed, it seemed like a thousand specks had come to life

within the pile. Perched upon the very top of the pile stood a single
speck. It began to speak to her.

ANT QUEEN: (tiny voice) Handsome maiden! The West Wind has told us of your
misfortune, and we ants have come to help.

NARRATOR: Sure enough—the specks were ants, an army of them—industriously

carrying seed after seed from the mound.

PSYCHE: (overjoyed) Thank you! What did I do to deserve your help?

ANT QUEEN: You do this task out of love, and there is no greater cause.

PSYCHE: The Goddess will return at nightfall. Will you be done by then?

ANT QUEEN: Of course, my dear. We ants never take a break. We love to work.
It’s our function!

Returning the Ant Queen to her hill of workers, Psyche watched in

wonder as the pile slowly shrank into many smaller mounds. The
sun was setting as the final loads were carried to their appropriate
destination.
ANT QUEEN: Our day’s work is done.

PSYCHE: I’ll never forget this. Today you little ones accomplished something
that a giant creature never could have.

ANT QUEEN: You’ve learned your lesson well then! Good luck, Princess Psyche.

NARRATOR: Once on the ground, the Queen led her victorious troops away—
singing an ant song of victory. When Aphrodite returned, she was
not pleased.

APHRODITE: (angry) Impossible! You couldn’t have done this on your own!

PSYCHE: (stubbornly) I didn’t claim to. The smallest creatures of the world
have helped me. You never said I couldn’t get help.

APHRODITE: So that’s your game, is it? Well, Missy, the next two tasks will be so
tough they’ll make your head spin.

PSYCHE: I am ready. Bring them on.

APHRODITE: (laugh) Ha!

A mist formed around the goddess and the girl, and its cold, gray
fingers grasped Psyche. She felt herself being pulled away through
the air. When the swirls subsided, she was standing on the edge of a
swift stream. On the opposite hill, a herd of shiny sheep were
grazing.

APHRODITE: My task is a simple one. See those sheep there? I desire some of
their wool. Fetch some for me.

PSYCHE: (surprised) is that it?

APHRODITE: Cross my heart.

PSYCHE: Very well.

NARRATOR: Psyche pulled up the hem of her tunic and forded the stream. The
golden sheep continued to graze—unconcerned by her approach.
 Searching for some sign of a trap, Psyche continued forward. The
nearest sheep paid no attention to her. She reached forward to
grasp its wool.

(hellish bleat)

The sheep spun toward her and bared its razor-sharp teeth. She
barely snatched her hand back in time to avoid its jaws.

PSYCHE: (screams) Ah!

Once safely back across the stream, Psyche noticed the bones lying
white among the tall grasses.

APHRODITE: Oh. Did I fail to mention that those are man-eating sheep? (evil
laugh)

PSYCHE: (angrily) you—you…

APHRODITE: Try to not to die. It would be quite embarrassing to be killed by such

cuddly creatures.

Left to her task, Psyche tried to clear her mind. Keeping a careful
eye on the sheep, she knelt by the stream and dipped a cool drink
of water.

VOICE: (anxiously) don’t do it!

PSYCHE: Hello?

VOICE: Don’t do it. You can still beat her! Whatever you do—don’t drown
yourself. It’ll solve nothing.

PSYCHE: I wasn’t going to. I was just going to get a drink.

VOICE: Well, that’s a relief. I’ve seen plenty of fools try to get some of that
golden wool. They either get their neck bit through—or give up and
kill themselves right here in this stream out of shame. It’s so
dramatic.
PSYCHE: Where are you?

VOICE: I’m here. Right beside you.

Near her face, a reed was swaying slightly in the breeze.

REED: No, you’re not imagining it. A reed is talking to you.

PSYCHE: Well, you may not believe this, but it’s not the strangest thing that’s
happened to me today.

REED: Since you’re not going to kill yourself, let me give you some more
advice. I don’t usually do this, but I’ll tell you how to get some of
that golden wool. But, first, you have to promise not to tell anyone
where you got it.

PSYCHE: No problem.

REED: The last thing I want is a thousand people traipsing around on my

bank and drowning themselves in the shallows. One dead body can
stink this place up for weeks.

That’s some mean mutton over there. They can skeletize a grown
man in sixty seconds. What you do is you wait for the sheep to come
down for their daily drink. You know sheep—they have one brain
between the whole flock. When they come to the water, their fleece
gets caught on those briars over there. Wait until they’re gone, grab
it, and you’re good.

PSYCHE: I never would have thought of that! That’s brilliant!

REED: I am the only talking reed for a reason.

Psyche waited for the flock to drink, and after they had gone, a
thousand tiny tufts were left in the riverside brambles. The girl
collected these quickly.

PSYCHE: Thanks, Reed. I’ll never forget this. (Loudly) Aphrodite! Aphrodite!
I have completed your task!
 The atmosphere crackled, and the goddess appeared. Psyche
stretched out hands filled with golden clumps.

APHRODITE: (coldly) fool! This is not about fleece—or seeds—or love. This is
about you and me. I will destroy you if it’s the last thing I do! You
will never have my son!

Aphrodite ripped the riverside reed up by its stalk, snapped it in

half, and threw it to the ground.

REED: (agonizing cry)

APHRODITE: Ha! That reed has talked its last! Now—for your final task I’m
sending you to a place where no one would dare help you. (pause)
Follow this stream. It runs for many miles. When you reach the
mountains, it flows into a cave. The cave leads down—into the
Underworld.

PSYCHE: (breathlessly) Hades?

APHRODITE: If you truly love my son, you will go into the Underworld as I ask.
You will go to my niece Persephone, Queen of Hades herself. Take
this box to her.

An ornately carved box appeared in Psyche’s hands.

PSYCHE: What is this for?

APHRODITE: Command Persephone to take some of her beauty and place it into
this box. Then return it to me.

PSYCHE: Then will you allow me to see your son?

APHRODITE: (coldly) I swear it by the Styx.

PSYCHE: How do I even get into Hades?

APHRODITE: There is only one surefire route into Hades, my dear: suicide. Don’t
rule it out—just yet.
 Psyche felt her feet start their weary plod. Time passed. Before her
now was the black pool—a cave behind it lead into nothingness.
Psyche lowered herself into the pool. Numbing cold.

A stir of wind caught her hair and caused her to turn. Floating on
the black water of the poolwas a cake. And baked into its tender
crust, a small coin.

PSYCHE: Zephyr, you are my true friend.

It cannot be told how terrifying and deep the Land of Hades runs.
As the light of the world disappeared, a new light appeared—a
sickly light—the light of the grave—and it drew Psyche ever
downward on a doomed path.

(dog barking and snarl)

PSYCHE: (whispering) Cerberus.

NARRATOR: The three-headed guard dog of Hades lurked just ahead on the
path. Prying loose the coin, Psyche took the cake into her hand.

PSYCHE: I hope this works.

NARRATOR: Psyche stepped forward. Three heads lifted, three pairs of glowing
eyes, and gaping jaws. Before the beast could move to rip her apart,
Psyche threw the cake. Cerberus darted after it, and Psyche dashed
by.

(hellish growl)

A dark river came next—flat and motionless. Wraiths stood along

the bank—waiting. Psyche took the coin and placed it beneath her
tongue. The shallow craft of Charon was moored on the bank
before her—and the boatman himself stood inside it—leaning on
his pole.
CHARON: (hissing) Life has passed the Gates of Death. Tell me, foolish
maiden. What do you seek below? And for what purpose?

PSYCHE: I seek Death and his queen—for love.

CHARON: Then I shall ferry you—provided you can pay the price.

Her mouth opened. His sandy fingers found the toll there. As she
climbed aboard, Charon poled the craft away from the shore. The
boat did not dip nor bob. It floated on nothing. With a thud it hit
the other side.

CHARON: I am the only way across this river. And you have given me your
only coin. You are lost.

NARRATOR: Psyche turned her back on these words. Ahead a black palace had
clawed its way out of the rock. A thousand cobweb whispers
surrounded her and flew before her—announcing the mortal
maiden to the king. Then she came at last to stand before Hades
and Persephone, the Lord and Lady of Death.

HADES: (unemotionally) Mortal, what brings you into Tartarus?

PSYCHE: Love. Love has brought me here.

HADES: Love? Love has no place among the dead. Here Love is dried up.

PSYCHE: I have brought it here with me. I snuck it in—in my heart.

HADES: You are mistaken. Anything that passes the gates of death is dead.
Love was alive when you came, but now it is dead. You were alive
when you came, but now you are dead.

Under the stony glance of Hades, Psyche felt her soul weakening.
She turned frantically to face the stone-like Persephone.

PSYCHE: (pleading) please, my Queen. Help me. Give me some of your

beauty. Surely your heart hasn’t been frozen completely by this
place. Some love must still live there.
HADES: Do not trouble yourself with her. Her heart also is dead.

PSYCHE: (frantically) Please! You were once young! You were once in love!
Remember it now! Remember the spring! Forget this wintery place
—only for a moment!

The eyes of Persephone remained unchanged.

HADES: (forcefully) I am tired of your whining! She will give you none of her
beauty.

At that moment the hand of the Queen—a hand that seemed as if it

had been carved into her lap—suddenly raised.

PERSEPHONE: Please, Husband. I believe she was speaking to me instead of you.

HADES: Wha—

PERSEPHONE: Girl, I will grant this request—but only for Love. Take this beauty. I
hope it will bring you more happiness than me. Now—go, before
death seizes you completely.

NARRATOR: The pale light of the Underworld faded—and Psyche felt her body
warm. She was lying on the banks of the black pool once again.

PSYCHE: (surprised laugh) I can’t believe it. Only the great heroes have
visited the Underworld and lived to tell about it.

Aphrodite’s box lay near her.

PSYCHE: The beauty. I must make sure it’s really there. If I give Aphrodite a
box full of air, I’ll never see Eros again.

With trembling fingers, she began to inch the lid of her treasure
open.

PSYCHE: Just a peek. That’s all I need. Then I’ll be sure.

NARRATOR: A shriek escaped the box—the beauty freed from its prison. Psyche
slammed down the lid as quickly as she could, but she was too late.
It had already gone. Psyche fell—defeated—to the ground.

EROS: (faraway) Psyche! Psyche!

NARRATOR: Psyche opened her eyes to a handsome face.

EROS: Psyche! Come back to me!

NARRATOR: It was Eros. He was actually cradling her in his arms.

PSYCHE: (weakly) I—I—tried so hard.

EROS: (joyfully) you succeeded! You did it. You showed how much you
truly loved me. Oh, Psyche, I knew you did.

PSYCHE: But I failed! The beauty—I opened the box.

EROS: Forget that! You did something much greater.

PSYCHE: But—Aphrodite—your mother?

EROS: Forget her! I was foolish to hide you away, and you’ve had to pay
the price. But I’m going to make it all up to you—starting now.

PSYCHE: How?

NARRATOR: The Love God lifted her—higher and higher through the clouds.
Soon she saw that they were in the hearing hall of Olympus. High
on his throne sat Zeus himself.

EROS: (emotionally) Zeus! I’ve come to ask your help. In my arms I hold
the woman I love.

ZEUS: (uninterested) Hmmmm. I see that.

EROS: But, O Zeus, she is a mortal, and I am a god. My mother would

never agree to our marriage.
ZEUS: Fooling around with a mortal is one thing—but marriage? It’s most
unusual.

A pink poof appeared in the midst of the proceedings.

APHRODITE: (raging) Never! NEVER! NEVER!

Zeus angrily waved Aphrodite’s fluorescent fumes away from his

face.

ZEUS: I take it that you disapprove of this marriage, Sister?

APHRODITE: Of course, I do! This selfish boy has gone against his mother’s
wishes—and fallen in love with a mortal! Who has ever heard of
something so disgusting?

ZEUS: (annoyed) Well, I have for one. Perhaps you have forgotten that I
have had a few—affairs with Earth women.

APHRODITE: (stumbling over herself) Well—that’s different. You’re—Zeus.

ZEUS: And—let’s see. (thinking) It’s rumored that even you, Aphrodite,
have been known to go “slumming” with the mortals.

APHRODITE: (shocked) I never…

ZEUS: (slyly) really? What about a man named Anchises or a boy named
Adonis? Do these names ring a bell?

APHRODITE: I was young and stupid! Who hasn’t made a few mistakes?

ZEUS: My point exactly.

APHRODITE: (fuming) The fact remains: a mortal cannot marry a god!

ZEUS: Precisely right, Aphrodite. A mortal cannot marry a god.

APHRODITE: I knew you’d see it my way!

ZEUS: That is why I’ll just have to make Psyche a goddess.

APHRODITE: (complete shock) WHAT?

 The two young lovers leaped at this pronouncement.

EROS: Thank you, Zeus! Oh thank you! I shall never forget this!

ZEUS: Aphrodite, standing before you, you have the bravest of earthly
women. This child has faced task after task and even descended into
the Underworld to receive your approval. If you cannot give her
yours, I shall give her mine.

APHRODITE: But—But—

ZEUS: Hebe! Bring the nectar of the gods!

Aphrodite watched numbly as Hebe revealed the cup of the gods.

ZEUS: Come, my child.

Psyche stepped forward to receive the immortal draught. As the

liquid warmed her throat, everlasting life rushed through her. A
shimmer of silver began to cover the maiden’s body. Zeus smiled
triumphantly.

ZEUS: So, my two lovebirds. You have been equally matched. Eros, the
greatest of hearts, and Psyche, the strongest of souls. Live together
in happiness forever. And that’s an order.

While the newly-weds embraced, Zeus turned a sly glance on his

sister.

ZEUS: Come now, Aphrodite. Be a good sport. You’ll soften in time. Soon
the place will be crawling with children. And—think—these
youngsters will love no one more than their beloved old Grandma!

APHRODITE: (horrified) Grandma?

ALL: (good-natured laughter)