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They spell it so abominably that no man can teach +himself what it sounds like. It is impossible for an Englishman +to open his mouth without making some other Englishman hate or +despise him. German and Spanish are accessible to foreigners: +English is not accessible even to Englishmen. The reformer +England needs today is an energetic phonetic enthusiast: that is +why I have made such a one the hero of a popular play. There have +been heroes of that kind crying in the wilderness for many years +past. When I became interested in the subject towards the end of +the eighteen-seventies, Melville Bell was dead; but Alexander J. +Ellis was still a living patriarch, with an impressive head +always covered by a velvet skull cap, for which he would +apologize to public meetings in a very courtly manner. He and +Tito Pagliardini, another phonetic veteran, were men whom it was +impossible to dislike. Henry Sweet, then a young man, lacked +their sweetness of character: he was about as conciliatory to +conventional mortals as Ibsen or Samuel Butler. His great ability +as a phonetician (he was, I think, the best of them all at his +job) would have entitled him to high official recognition, and +perhaps enabled him to popularize his subject, but for his +Satanic contempt for all academic dignitaries and persons in +general who thought more of Greek than of phonetics. Once, in the +days when the Imperial Institute rose in South Kensington, and +Joseph Chamberlain was booming the Empire, I induced the editor +of a leading monthly review to commission an article from Sweet +on the imperial importance of his subject. When it arrived, it +contained nothing but a savagely derisive attack on a professor of +language and literature whose chair Sweet regarded as proper to a +phonetic expert only. The article, being libelous, had to be +returned as impossible; and I had to renounce my dream of +dragging its author into the limelight. When I met him +afterwards, for the first time for many years, I found to my +astonishment that he, who had been a quite tolerably presentable +young man, had actually managed by sheer scorn to alter his +personal appearance until he had become a sort of walking +repudiation of Oxford and all its traditions. It must have been +largely in his own despite that he was squeezed into something +called a Readership of phonetics there. The future of phonetics +rests probably with his pupils, who all swore by him; but nothing +could bring the man himself into any sort of compliance with the +university, to which he nevertheless clung by divine right in an +intensely Oxonian way. I daresay his papers, if he has left any, +include some satires that may be published without too +destructive results fifty years hence. He was, I believe, not in +the least an ill-natured man: very much the opposite, I should +say; but he would not suffer fools gladly. + +Those who knew him will recognize in my third act the allusion to +the patent Shorthand in which he used to write postcards, and +which may be acquired from a four and six-penny manual published +by the Clarendon Press. The postcards which Mrs. Higgins +describes are such as I have received from Sweet. I would +decipher a sound which a cockney would represent by zerr, and a +Frenchman by seu, and then write demanding with some heat what on +earth it meant. Sweet, with boundless contempt for my stupidity, +would reply that it not only meant but obviously was the word +Result, as no other Word containing that sound, and capable of +making sense with the context, existed in any language spoken on +earth. That less expert mortals should require fuller indications +was beyond Sweet's patience. Therefore, though the whole point of +his "Current Shorthand" is that it can express every sound in the +language perfectly, vowels as well as consonants, and that your +hand has to make no stroke except the easy and current ones with +which you write m, n, and u, l, p, and q, scribbling them at +whatever angle comes easiest to you, his unfortunate +determination to make this remarkable and quite legible script +serve also as a Shorthand reduced it in his own practice to the +most inscrutable of cryptograms. His true objective was the +provision of a full, accurate, legible script for our noble but +ill-dressed language; but he was led past that by his contempt +for the popular Pitman system of Shorthand, which he called the +Pitfall system. The triumph of Pitman was a triumph of business +organization: there was a weekly paper to persuade you to learn +Pitman: there were cheap textbooks and exercise books and +transcripts of speeches for you to copy, and schools where +experienced teachers coached you up to the necessary proficiency. +Sweet could not organize his market in that fashion. He might as +well have been the Sybil who tore up the leaves of prophecy that +nobody would attend to. The four and six-penny manual, mostly in +his lithographed handwriting, that was never vulgarly advertized, +may perhaps some day be taken up by a syndicate and pushed upon +the public as The Times pushed the Encyclopaedia Britannica; but +until then it will certainly not prevail against Pitman. I have +bought three copies of it during my lifetime; and I am informed +by the publishers that its cloistered existence is still a steady +and healthy one. I actually learned the system two several times; +and yet the shorthand in which I am writing these lines is +Pitman's. And the reason is, that my secretary cannot transcribe +Sweet, having been perforce taught in the schools of Pitman. +Therefore, Sweet railed at Pitman as vainly as Thersites railed +at Ajax: his raillery, however it may have eased his soul, gave +no popular vogue to Current Shorthand. Pygmalion Higgins is not a +portrait of Sweet, to whom the adventure of Eliza Doolittle would +have been impossible; still, as will be seen, there are touches +of Sweet in the play. With Higgins's physique and temperament +Sweet might have set the Thames on fire. As it was, he impressed +himself professionally on Europe to an extent that made his +comparative personal obscurity, and the failure of Oxford to do +justice to his eminence, a puzzle to foreign specialists in his +subject. I do not blame Oxford, because I think Oxford is quite +right in demanding a certain social amenity from its nurslings +(heaven knows it is not exorbitant in its requirements!); for +although I well know how hard it is for a man of genius with a +seriously underrated subject to maintain serene and kindly +relations with the men who underrate it, and who keep all the +best places for less important subjects which they profess +without originality and sometimes without much capacity for them, +still, if he overwhelms them with wrath and disdain, he cannot +expect them to heap honors on him. + +Of the later generations of phoneticians I know little. Among +them towers the Poet Laureate, to whom perhaps Higgins may owe +his Miltonic sympathies, though here again I must disclaim all +portraiture. But if the play makes the public aware that there +are such people as phoneticians, and that they are among the most +important people in England at present, it will serve its turn. + +I wish to boast that Pygmalion has been an extremely successful +play all over Europe and North America as well as at home. It is +so intensely and deliberately didactic, and its subject is +esteemed so dry, that I delight in throwing it at the heads of +the wiseacres who repeat the parrot cry that art should never be +didactic. It goes to prove my contention that art should never be +anything else. + +Finally, and for the encouragement of people troubled with +accents that cut them off from all high employment, I may add +that the change wrought by Professor Higgins in the flower girl +is neither impossible nor uncommon. The modern concierge's +daughter who fulfils her ambition by playing the Queen of Spain +in Ruy Blas at the Theatre Francais is only one of many thousands +of men and women who have sloughed off their native dialects and +acquired a new tongue. But the thing has to be done +scientifically, or the last state of the aspirant may be worse +than the first. An honest and natural slum dialect is more +tolerable than the attempt of a phonetically untaught person to +imitate the vulgar dialect of the golf club; and I am sorry to +say that in spite of the efforts of our Academy of Dramatic Art, +there is still too much sham golfing English on our stage, and +too little of the noble English of Forbes Robertson. + + + + +ACT I + +Covent Garden at 11.15 p.m. Torrents of heavy summer rain. Cab +whistles blowing frantically in all directions. Pedestrians +running for shelter into the market and under the portico of St. +Paul's Church, where there are already several people, among them +a lady and her daughter in evening dress. They are all peering +out gloomily at the rain, except one man with his back turned to +the rest, who seems wholly preoccupied with a notebook in which +he is writing busily. + +The church clock strikes the first quarter. + +THE DAUGHTER [in the space between the central pillars, close to +the one on her left] I'm getting chilled to the bone. What can +Freddy be doing all this time? He's been gone twenty minutes. + +THE MOTHER [on her daughter's right] Not so long. But he ought to +have got us a cab by this. + +A BYSTANDER [on the lady's right] He won't get no cab not until +half-past eleven, missus, when they come back after dropping +their theatre fares. + +THE MOTHER. But we must have a cab. We can't stand here until +half-past eleven. It's too bad. + +THE BYSTANDER. Well, it ain't my fault, missus. + +THE DAUGHTER. If Freddy had a bit of gumption, he would have got +one at the theatre door. + +THE MOTHER. What could he have done, poor boy? + +THE DAUGHTER. Other people got cabs. Why couldn't he? + +Freddy rushes in out of the rain from the Southampton Street +side, and comes between them closing a dripping umbrella. He is a +young man of twenty, in evening dress, very wet around the +ankles. + +THE DAUGHTER. Well, haven't you got a cab? + +FREDDY. There's not one to be had for love or money. + +THE MOTHER. Oh, Freddy, there must be one. You can't have tried. + +THE DAUGHTER. It's too tiresome. Do you expect us to go and get +one ourselves? + +FREDDY. I tell you they're all engaged. The rain was so sudden: +nobody was prepared; and everybody had to take a cab. I've been +to Charing Cross one way and nearly to Ludgate Circus the other; +and they were all engaged. + +THE MOTHER. Did you try Trafalgar Square? + +FREDDY. There wasn't one at Trafalgar Square. + +THE DAUGHTER. Did you try? + +FREDDY. I tried as far as Charing Cross Station. Did you expect +me to walk to Hammersmith? + +THE DAUGHTER. You haven't tried at all. + +THE MOTHER. You really are very helpless, Freddy. Go again; and +don't come back until you have found a cab. + +FREDDY. I shall simply get soaked for nothing. + +THE DAUGHTER. And what about us? Are we to stay here all night in +this draught, with next to nothing on. You selfish pig-- + +FREDDY. Oh, very well: I'll go, I'll go. [He opens his umbrella +and dashes off Strandwards, but comes into +collision with a flower girl, who is hurrying in for shelter, +knocking her basket out of her hands. A blinding flash of +lightning, followed instantly by a rattling peal of thunder, +orchestrates the incident] + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Nah then, Freddy: look wh' y' gowin, deah. + +FREDDY. Sorry [he rushes off]. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [picking up her scattered flowers and replacing +them in the basket] There's menners f' yer! Te-oo banches o +voylets trod into the mad. [She sits down on the plinth of the +column, sorting her flowers, on the lady's right. She is not at +all an attractive person. She is perhaps eighteen, perhaps +twenty, hardly older. She wears a little sailor hat of black +straw that has long been exposed to the dust and soot of London +and has seldom if ever been brushed. Her hair needs washing +rather badly: its mousy color can hardly be natural. She wears a +shoddy black coat that reaches nearly to her knees and is shaped +to her waist. She has a brown skirt with a coarse apron. Her +boots are much the worse for wear. She is no doubt as clean as +she can afford to be; but compared to the ladies she is very +dirty. Her features are no worse than theirs; but their condition +leaves something to be desired; and she needs the services of a +dentist]. + +THE MOTHER. How do you know that my son's name is Freddy, pray? + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Ow, eez ye-ooa san, is e? Wal, fewd dan y' +de-ooty bawmz a mather should, eed now bettern to spawl a pore +gel's flahrzn than ran awy atbaht pyin. Will ye-oo py me f'them? +[Here, with apologies, this desperate attempt to represent her +dialect without a phonetic alphabet must be abandoned as +unintelligible outside London.] + +THE DAUGHTER. Do nothing of the sort, mother. The idea! + +THE MOTHER. Please allow me, Clara. Have you any pennies? + +THE DAUGHTER. No. I've nothing smaller than sixpence. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [hopefully] I can give you change for a tanner, +kind lady. + +THE MOTHER [to Clara] Give it to me. [Clara parts reluctantly]. +Now [to the girl] This is for your flowers. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Thank you kindly, lady. + +THE DAUGHTER. Make her give you the change. These things are only +a penny a bunch. + +THE MOTHER. Do hold your tongue, Clara. [To the girl]. +You can keep the change. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Oh, thank you, lady. + +THE MOTHER. Now tell me how you know that young gentleman's name. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. I didn't. + +THE MOTHER. I heard you call him by it. Don't try to deceive me. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [protesting] Who's trying to deceive you? I +called him Freddy or Charlie same as you might yourself if you +was talking to a stranger and wished to be pleasant. [She sits +down beside her basket]. + +THE DAUGHTER. Sixpence thrown away! Really, mamma, you might have +spared Freddy that. [She retreats in disgust behind the pillar]. + +An elderly gentleman of the amiable military type rushes into +shelter, and closes a dripping umbrella. He is in the same plight +as Freddy, very wet about the ankles. He is in evening dress, +with a light overcoat. He takes the place left vacant by the +daughter's retirement. + +THE GENTLEMAN. Phew! + +THE MOTHER [to the gentleman] Oh, sir, is there any sign of its +stopping? + +THE GENTLEMAN. I'm afraid not. It started worse than ever about +two minutes ago. [He goes to the plinth beside the flower girl; +puts up his foot on it; and stoops to turn down his trouser +ends]. + +THE MOTHER. Oh, dear! [She retires sadly and joins her daughter]. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [taking advantage of the military gentleman's +proximity to establish friendly relations with him]. If it's +worse it's a sign it's nearly over. So cheer up, Captain; and buy +a flower off a poor girl. + +THE GENTLEMAN. I'm sorry, I haven't any change. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. I can give you change, Captain, + +THE GENTLEMEN. For a sovereign? I've nothing less. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Garn! Oh do buy a flower off me, Captain. I can +change half-a-crown. Take this for tuppence. + +THE GENTLEMAN. Now don't be troublesome: there's a good girl. +[Trying his pockets] I really haven't any change--Stop: here's +three hapence, if that's any use to you [he retreats to the other +pillar]. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [disappointed, but thinking three halfpence +better than nothing] Thank you, sir. + +THE BYSTANDER [to the girl] You be careful: give him a flower for +it. There's a bloke here behind taking down every blessed word +you're saying. [All turn to the man who is taking notes]. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [springing up terrified] I ain't done nothing +wrong by speaking to the gentleman. I've a right to sell flowers +if I keep off the kerb. [Hysterically] I'm a respectable girl: so +help me, I never spoke to him except to ask him to buy a flower +off me. [General hubbub, mostly sympathetic to the flower girl, +but deprecating her excessive sensibility. Cries of Don't start +hollerin. Who's hurting you? Nobody's going to touch you. What's +the good of fussing? Steady on. Easy, easy, etc., come from the +elderly staid spectators, who pat her comfortingly. Less patient +ones bid her shut her head, or ask her roughly what is wrong with +her. A remoter group, not knowing what the matter is, crowd in +and increase the noise with question and answer: What's the row? +What she do? Where is he? A tec taking her down. What! him? Yes: +him over there: Took money off the gentleman, etc. The flower +girl, distraught and mobbed, breaks through them to the +gentleman, crying mildly] Oh, sir, don't let him charge me. You +dunno what it means to me. They'll take away my character and +drive me on the streets for speaking to gentlemen. They-- + +THE NOTE TAKER [coming forward on her right, the rest crowding +after him] There, there, there, there! Who's hurting you, you +silly girl? What do you take me for? + +THE BYSTANDER. It's all right: he's a gentleman: look at his +boots. [Explaining to the note taker] She thought you was a +copper's nark, sir. + +THE NOTE TAKER [with quick interest] What's a copper's nark? + +THE BYSTANDER [inept at definition] It's a--well, it's a copper's +nark, as you might say. What else would you call it? A sort of +informer. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [still hysterical] I take my Bible oath I never +said a word-- + +THE NOTE TAKER [overbearing but good-humored] Oh, shut up, shut +up. Do I look like a policeman? + +THE FLOWER GIRL [far from reassured] Then what did you take down +my words for? How do I know whether you took me down right? You +just show me what you've wrote about me. [The note taker opens +his book and holds it steadily under her nose, though the +pressure of the mob trying to read it over his shoulders would +upset a weaker man]. What's that? That ain't proper writing. I +can't read that. + +THE NOTE TAKER. I can. [Reads, reproducing her pronunciation +exactly] "Cheer ap, Keptin; n' haw ya flahr orf a pore gel." + +THE FLOWER GIRL [much distressed] It's because I called him +Captain. I meant no harm. [To the gentleman] Oh, sir, don't let +him lay a charge agen me for a word like that. You-- + +THE GENTLEMAN. Charge! I make no charge. [To the note taker] +Really, sir, if you are a detective, you need not begin +protecting me against molestation by young women until I ask you. +Anybody could see that the girl meant no harm. + +THE BYSTANDERS GENERALLY [demonstrating against police espionage] +Course they could. What business is it of yours? You mind your +own affairs. He wants promotion, he does. Taking down people's +words! Girl never said a word to him. What harm if she did? Nice +thing a girl can't shelter from the rain without being insulted, +etc., etc., etc. [She is conducted by the more sympathetic +demonstrators back to her plinth, where she resumes her seat and +struggles with her emotion]. + +THE BYSTANDER. He ain't a tec. He's a blooming busybody: that's +what he is. I tell you, look at his boots. + +THE NOTE TAKER [turning on him genially] And how are all your +people down at Selsey? + +THE BYSTANDER [suspiciously] Who told you my people come from +Selsey? + +THE NOTE TAKER. Never you mind. They did. [To the girl] How do +you come to be up so far east? You were born in Lisson Grove. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [appalled] Oh, what harm is there in my leaving +Lisson Grove? It wasn't fit for a pig to live in; and I had to +pay four-and-six a week. [In tears] Oh, boo--hoo--oo-- + +THE NOTE TAKER. Live where you like; but stop that noise. + +THE GENTLEMAN [to the girl] Come, come! he can't touch you: you +have a right to live where you please. + +A SARCASTIC BYSTANDER [thrusting himself between the note taker +and the gentleman] Park Lane, for instance. I'd like to go into +the Housing Question with you, I would. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [subsiding into a brooding melancholy over her +basket, and talking very low-spiritedly to herself] I'm a good +girl, I am. + +THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER [not attending to her] Do you know where +_I_ come from? + +THE NOTE TAKER [promptly] Hoxton. + +Titterings. Popular interest in the note taker's +performance increases. + +THE SARCASTIC ONE [amazed] Well, who said I didn't? Bly me! You +know everything, you do. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [still nursing her sense of injury] Ain't no call +to meddle with me, he ain't. + +THE BYSTANDER [to her] Of course he ain't. Don't you stand it +from him. [To the note taker] See here: what call have you to +know about people what never offered to meddle with you? Where's +your warrant? + +SEVERAL BYSTANDERS [encouraged by this seeming point of law] Yes: +where's your warrant? + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Let him say what he likes. I don't want to have +no truck with him. + +THE BYSTANDER. You take us for dirt under your feet, don't you? +Catch you taking liberties with a gentleman! + +THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER. Yes: tell HIM where he come from if you +want to go fortune-telling. + +THE NOTE TAKER. Cheltenham, Harrow, Cambridge, and India. + +THE GENTLEMAN. Quite right. [Great laughter. Reaction in the note +taker's favor. Exclamations of He knows all about it. Told him +proper. Hear him tell the toff where he come from? etc.]. May I +ask, sir, do you do this for your living at a music hall? + +THE NOTE TAKER. I've thought of that. Perhaps I shall some day. + +The rain has stopped; and the persons on the outside of the crowd +begin to drop off. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [resenting the reaction] He's no gentleman, he +ain't, to interfere with a poor girl. + +THE DAUGHTER [out of patience, pushing her way rudely to the +front and displacing the gentleman, who politely retires to the +other side of the pillar] What on earth is Freddy doing? I shall +get pneumonia if I stay in this draught any longer. + +THE NOTE TAKER [to himself, hastily making a note of her +pronunciation of "monia"] Earlscourt. + +THE DAUGHTER [violently] Will you please keep your impertinent +remarks to yourself? + +THE NOTE TAKER. Did I say that out loud? I didn't mean to. I beg +your pardon. Your mother's Epsom, unmistakeably. + +THE MOTHER [advancing between her daughter and the note taker] +How very curious! I was brought up in Largelady Park, near Epsom. + +THE NOTE TAKER [uproariously amused] Ha! ha! What a devil of a +name! Excuse me. [To the daughter] You want a cab, do you? + +THE DAUGHTER. Don't dare speak to me. + +THE MOTHER. Oh, please, please Clara. [Her daughter repudiates +her with an angry shrug and retires haughtily.] We should be so +grateful to you, sir, if you found us a cab. [The note taker +produces a whistle]. Oh, thank you. [She joins her daughter]. The +note taker blows a piercing blast. + +THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER. There! I knowed he was a +plain-clothes copper. + +THE BYSTANDER. That ain't a police whistle: that's a sporting +whistle. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [still preoccupied with her wounded feelings] +He's no right to take away my character. My character is the same +to me as any lady's. + +THE NOTE TAKER. I don't know whether you've noticed it; but the +rain stopped about two minutes ago. + +THE BYSTANDER. So it has. Why didn't you say so before? and us +losing our time listening to your silliness. [He walks off +towards the Strand]. + +THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER. I can tell where you come from. You come +from Anwell. Go back there. + +THE NOTE TAKER [helpfully] _H_anwell. + +THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER [affecting great distinction of speech] +Thenk you, teacher. Haw haw! So long [he touches his hat with +mock respect and strolls off]. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Frightening people like that! How would he like +it himself. + +THE MOTHER. It's quite fine now, Clara. We can walk to a motor +bus. Come. [She gathers her skirts above her ankles and hurries +off towards the Strand]. + +THE DAUGHTER. But the cab--[her mother is out of hearing]. Oh, +how tiresome! [She follows angrily]. + +All the rest have gone except the note taker, the +gentleman, and the flower girl, who sits arranging her basket, +and still pitying herself in murmurs. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Poor girl! Hard enough for her to live without +being worrited and chivied. + +THE GENTLEMAN [returning to his former place on the note taker's +left] How do you do it, if I may ask? + +THE NOTE TAKER. Simply phonetics. The science of speech. That's +my profession; also my hobby. Happy is the man who can make a +living by his hobby! You can spot an Irishman or a Yorkshireman +by his brogue. I can place any man within six miles. I can place +him within two miles in London. Sometimes within two streets. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Ought to be ashamed of himself, unmanly coward! + +THE GENTLEMAN. But is there a living in that? + +THE NOTE TAKER. Oh yes. Quite a fat one. This is an age of +upstarts. Men begin in Kentish Town with 80 pounds a year, and +end in Park Lane with a hundred thousand. They want to drop +Kentish Town; but they give themselves away every time they open +their mouths. Now I can teach them-- + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Let him mind his own business and leave a poor +girl-- + +THE NOTE TAKER [explosively] Woman: cease this detestable +boohooing instantly; or else seek the shelter of some other place +of worship. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [with feeble defiance] I've a right to be here if +I like, same as you. + +THE NOTE TAKER. A woman who utters such depressing and disgusting +sounds has no right to be anywhere--no right to live. Remember +that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of +articulate speech: that your native language is the language of +Shakespear and Milton and The Bible; and don't sit there crooning +like a bilious pigeon. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [quite overwhelmed, and looking up at him in +mingled wonder and deprecation without daring to raise her head] +Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--oo! + +THE NOTE TAKER [whipping out his book] Heavens! what a sound! [He +writes; then holds out the book and reads, reproducing her vowels +exactly] Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--ow--oo! + +THE FLOWER GIRL [tickled by the performance, and laughing in +spite of herself] Garn! + +THE NOTE TAKER. You see this creature with her kerbstone English: +the English that will keep her in the gutter to the end of her +days. Well, sir, in three months I could pass that girl off as a +duchess at an ambassador's garden party. I could even get her a +place as lady's maid or shop assistant, which requires better +English. That's the sort of thing I do for commercial +millionaires. And on the profits of it I do genuine scientific +work in phonetics, and a little as a poet on Miltonic lines. + +THE GENTLEMAN. I am myself a student of Indian dialects; and-- + +THE NOTE TAKER [eagerly] Are you? Do you know Colonel Pickering, +the author of Spoken Sanscrit? + +THE GENTLEMAN. I am Colonel Pickering. Who are you? + +THE NOTE TAKER. Henry Higgins, author of Higgins's Universal +Alphabet. + +PICKERING [with enthusiasm] I came from India to meet you. + +HIGGINS. I was going to India to meet you. + +PICKERING. Where do you live? + +HIGGINS. 27A Wimpole Street. Come and see me tomorrow. + +PICKERING. I'm at the Carlton. Come with me now and let's have a +jaw over some supper. + +HIGGINS. Right you are. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [to Pickering, as he passes her] Buy a flower, +kind gentleman. I'm short for my lodging. + +PICKERING. I really haven't any change. I'm sorry [he goes away]. + +HIGGINS [shocked at girl's mendacity] Liar. You said you could +change half-a-crown. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [rising in desperation] You ought to be stuffed +with nails, you ought. [Flinging the basket at his feet] Take the +whole blooming basket for sixpence. + +The church clock strikes the second quarter. + +HIGGINS [hearing in it the voice of God, rebuking him for his +Pharisaic want of charity to the poor girl] A reminder. [He +raises his hat solemnly; then throws a handful of money into the +basket and follows Pickering]. + +THE FLOWER GIRL [picking up a half-crown] Ah--ow--ooh! [Picking +up a couple of florins] Aaah--ow--ooh! [Picking up several coins] +Aaaaaah--ow--ooh! [Picking up a half-sovereign] Aasaaaaaaaaah-- +ow--ooh!!! + +FREDDY [springing out of a taxicab] Got one at last. Hallo! [To +the girl] Where are the two ladies that were here? + +THE FLOWER GIRL. They walked to the bus when the rain stopped. + +FREDDY. And left me with a cab on my hands. Damnation! + +THE FLOWER GIRL [with grandeur] Never you mind, young man. I'm +going home in a taxi. [She sails off to the cab. The driver puts +his hand behind him and holds the door firmly shut against her. +Quite understanding his mistrust, she shows him her handful of +money]. Eightpence ain't no object to me, Charlie. [He grins and +opens the door]. Angel Court, Drury Lane, round the corner of +Micklejohn's oil shop. Let's see how fast you can make her hop +it. [She gets in and pulls the door to with a slam as the taxicab +starts]. + +FREDDY. Well, I'm dashed! + + + + +ACT II + +Next day at 11 a.m. Higgins's laboratory in Wimpole Street. It +is a room on the first floor, looking on the street, and was +meant for the drawing-room. The double doors are in the middle of +the back hall; and persons entering find in the corner to their +right two tall file cabinets at right angles to one another +against the walls. In this corner stands a flat writing-table, on +which are a phonograph, a laryngoscope, a row of tiny organ pipes +with a bellows, a set of lamp chimneys for singing flames with +burners attached to a gas plug in the wall by an indiarubber +tube, several tuning-forks of different sizes, a life-size image +of half a human head, showing in section the vocal organs, and a +box containing a supply of wax cylinders for the phonograph. + +Further down the room, on the same side, is a fireplace, with a +comfortable leather-covered easy-chair at the side of the hearth +nearest the door, and a coal-scuttle. There is a clock on the +mantelpiece. Between the fireplace and the phonograph table is a +stand for newspapers. + +On the other side of the central door, to the left of the +visitor, is a cabinet of shallow drawers. On it is a telephone +and the telephone directory. The corner beyond, and most of the +side wall, is occupied by a grand piano, with the keyboard at the +end furthest from the door, and a bench for the player extending +the full length of the keyboard. On the piano is a dessert dish +heaped with fruit and sweets, mostly chocolates. + +The middle of the room is clear. Besides the easy chair, the +piano bench, and two chairs at the phonograph table, there is one +stray chair. It stands near the fireplace. On the walls, +engravings; mostly Piranesis and mezzotint portraits. No +paintings. + +Pickering is seated at the table, putting down some cards and a +tuning-fork which he has been using. Higgins is standing up near +him, closing two or three file drawers which are hanging out. He +appears in the morning light as a robust, vital, appetizing sort +of man of forty or thereabouts, dressed in a professional-looking +black frock-coat with a white linen collar and black silk tie. He +is of the energetic, scientific type, heartily, even violently +interested in everything that can be studied as a scientific +subject, and careless about himself and other people, including +their feelings. He is, in fact, but for his years and size, +rather like a very impetuous baby "taking notice" eagerly and +loudly, and requiring almost as much watching to keep him out of +unintended mischief. His manner varies from genial bullying when +he is in a good humor to stormy petulance when anything goes +wrong; but he is so entirely frank and void of malice that he +remains likeable even in his least reasonable moments. + +HIGGINS [as he shuts the last drawer] Well, I think that's the +whole show. + +PICKERING. It's really amazing. I haven't taken half of it in, +you know. + +HIGGINS. Would you like to go over any of it again? + +PICKERING [rising and coming to the fireplace, where he plants +himself with his back to the fire] No, thank you; not now. I'm +quite done up for this morning. + +HIGGINS [following him, and standing beside him on his left] +Tired of listening to sounds? + +PICKERING. Yes. It's a fearful strain. I rather fancied myself +because I can pronounce twenty-four distinct vowel sounds; but +your hundred and thirty beat me. I can't hear a bit of difference +between most of them. + +HIGGINS [chuckling, and going over to the piano to eat sweets] +Oh, that comes with practice. You hear no difference at first; +but you keep on listening, and presently you find they're all as +different as A from B. [Mrs. Pearce looks in: she is Higgins's +housekeeper] What's the matter? + +MRS. PEARCE [hesitating, evidently perplexed] A young woman wants +to see you, sir. + +HIGGINS. A young woman! What does she want? + +MRS. PEARCE. Well, sir, she says you'll be glad to see her when +you know what she's come about. She's quite a common girl, sir. +Very common indeed. I should have sent her away, only I thought +perhaps you wanted her to talk into your machines. I hope I've +not done wrong; but really you see such queer people sometimes-- +you'll excuse me, I'm sure, sir-- + +HIGGINS. Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Pearce. Has she an +interesting accent? + +MRS. PEARCE. Oh, something dreadful, sir, really. I don't know +how you can take an interest in it. + +HIGGINS [to Pickering] Let's have her up. Show her up, Mrs. +Pearce [he rushes across to his working table and picks out a +cylinder to use on the phonograph]. + +MRS. PEARCE [only half resigned to it] Very well, sir. It's for +you to say. [She goes downstairs]. + +HIGGINS. This is rather a bit of luck. I'll show you how I make +records. We'll set her talking; and I'll take it down first in +Bell's visible Speech; then in broad Romic; and then we'll get +her on the phonograph so that you can turn her on as often as you +like with the written transcript before you. + +MRS. PEARCE [returning] This is the young woman, sir. + +The flower girl enters in state. She has a hat with three ostrich +feathers, orange, sky-blue, and red. She has a nearly clean +apron, and the shoddy coat has been tidied a little. The pathos +of this deplorable figure, with its innocent vanity and +consequential air, touches Pickering, who has already +straightened himself in the presence of Mrs. Pearce. But as to +Higgins, the only distinction he makes between men and women is +that when he is neither bullying nor exclaiming to the heavens +against some featherweight cross, he coaxes women as a child +coaxes its nurse when it wants to get anything out of her. + +HIGGINS [brusquely, recognizing her with unconcealed +disappointment, and at once, baby-like, making an intolerable +grievance of it] Why, this is the girl I jotted down last night. +She's no use: I've got all the records I want of the Lisson Grove +lingo; and I'm not going to waste another cylinder on it. [To the +girl] Be off with you: I don't want you. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Don't you be so saucy. You ain't heard what I +come for yet. [To Mrs. Pearce, who is waiting at the door for +further instruction] Did you tell him I come in a taxi? + +MRS. PEARCE. Nonsense, girl! what do you think a gentleman like +Mr. Higgins cares what you came in? + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Oh, we are proud! He ain't above giving lessons, +not him: I heard him say so. Well, I ain't come here to ask for +any compliment; and if my money's not good enough I can go +elsewhere. + +HIGGINS. Good enough for what? + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Good enough for ye--oo. Now you know, don't you? +I'm come to have lessons, I am. And to pay for em too: make no +mistake. + +HIGGINS [stupent] WELL!!! [Recovering his breath with a gasp] +What do you expect me to say to you? + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Well, if you was a gentleman, you might ask me +to sit down, I think. Don't I tell you I'm bringing you business? + +HIGGINS. Pickering: shall we ask this baggage to sit down or +shall we throw her out of the window? + +THE FLOWER GIRL [running away in terror to the piano, where she +turns at bay] Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--ow--oo! [Wounded and +whimpering] I won't be called a baggage when I've offered to pay +like any lady. + +Motionless, the two men stare at her from the other side of the +room, amazed. + +PICKERING [gently] What is it you want, my girl? + +THE FLOWER GIRL. I want to be a lady in a flower shop stead of +selling at the corner of Tottenham Court Road. But they won't +take me unless I can talk more genteel. He said he could teach +me. Well, here I am ready to pay him--not asking any favor--and +he treats me as if I was dirt. + +MRS. PEARCE. How can you be such a foolish ignorant girl as to +think you could afford to pay Mr. Higgins? + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Why shouldn't I? I know what lessons cost as +well as you do; and I'm ready to pay. + +HIGGINS. How much? + +THE FLOWER GIRL [coming back to him, triumphant] Now you're +talking! I thought you'd come off it when you saw a chance of +getting back a bit of what you chucked at me last night. +[Confidentially] You'd had a drop in, hadn't you? + +HIGGINS [peremptorily] Sit down. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Oh, if you're going to make a compliment of it-- + +HIGGINS [thundering at her] Sit down. + +MRS. PEARCE [severely] Sit down, girl. Do as you're told. [She +places the stray chair near the hearthrug between Higgins and +Pickering, and stands behind it waiting for the girl to sit +down]. + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--oo! [She stands, half +rebellious, half bewildered]. + +PICKERING [very courteous] Won't you sit down? + +LIZA [coyly] Don't mind if I do. [She sits down. Pickering +returns to the hearthrug]. + +HIGGINS. What's your name? + +THE FLOWER GIRL. Liza Doolittle. + +HIGGINS [declaiming gravely] +Eliza, Elizabeth, Betsy and Bess, +They went to the woods to get a birds nes': +PICKERING. They found a nest with four eggs in it: +HIGGINS. They took one apiece, and left three in it. + +They laugh heartily at their own wit. + +LIZA. Oh, don't be silly. + +MRS. PEARCE. You mustn't speak to the gentleman like that. + +LIZA. Well, why won't he speak sensible to me? + +HIGGINS. Come back to business. How much do you propose to pay me +for the lessons? + +LIZA. Oh, I know what's right. A lady friend of mine gets French +lessons for eighteenpence an hour from a real French gentleman. +Well, you wouldn't have the face to ask me the same for teaching +me my own language as you would for French; so I won't give more +than a shilling. Take it or leave it. + +HIGGINS [walking up and down the room, rattling his keys and his +cash in his pockets] You know, Pickering, if you consider a +shilling, not as a simple shilling, but as a percentage of this +girl's income, it works out as fully equivalent to sixty or +seventy guineas from a millionaire. + +PICKERING. How so? + +HIGGINS. Figure it out. A millionaire has about 150 pounds a day. +She earns about half-a-crown. + +LIZA [haughtily] Who told you I only-- + +HIGGINS [continuing] She offers me two-fifths of her day's income +for a lesson. Two-fifths of a millionaire's income for a day +would be somewhere about 60 pounds. It's handsome. By George, +it's enormous! it's the biggest offer I ever had. + +LIZA [rising, terrified] Sixty pounds! What are you talking +about? I never offered you sixty pounds. Where would I get-- + +HIGGINS. Hold your tongue. + +LIZA [weeping] But I ain't got sixty pounds. Oh-- + +MRS. PEARCE. Don't cry, you silly girl. Sit down. Nobody is going +to touch your money. + +HIGGINS. Somebody is going to touch you, with a broomstick, if +you don't stop snivelling. Sit down. + +LIZA [obeying slowly] Ah--ah--ah--ow--oo--o! One would think you +was my father. + +HIGGINS. If I decide to teach you, I'll be worse than two fathers +to you. Here [he offers her his silk handkerchief]! + +LIZA. What's this for? + +HIGGINS. To wipe your eyes. To wipe any part of your face that +feels moist. Remember: that's your handkerchief; and that's your +sleeve. Don't mistake the one for the other if you wish to become +a lady in a shop. + +Liza, utterly bewildered, stares helplessly at him. + +MRS. PEARCE. It's no use talking to her like that, Mr. Higgins: +she doesn't understand you. Besides, you're quite wrong: she +doesn't do it that way at all [she takes the handkerchief]. + +LIZA [snatching it] Here! You give me that handkerchief. He give +it to me, not to you. + +PICKERING [laughing] He did. I think it must be regarded as her +property, Mrs. Pearce. + +MRS. PEARCE [resigning herself] Serve you right, Mr. Higgins. + +PICKERING. Higgins: I'm interested. What about the ambassador's +garden party? I'll say you're the greatest teacher alive if you +make that good. I'll bet you all the expenses of the experiment +you can't do it. And I'll pay for the lessons. + +LIZA. Oh, you are real good. Thank you, Captain. + +HIGGINS [tempted, looking at her] It's almost irresistible. She's +so deliciously low--so horribly dirty-- + +LIZA [protesting extremely] Ah--ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--oooo!!! I +ain't dirty: I washed my face and hands afore I come, I did. + +PICKERING. You're certainly not going to turn her head with +flattery, Higgins. + +MRS. PEARCE [uneasy] Oh, don't say that, sir: there's more ways +than one of turning a girl's head; and nobody can do it better +than Mr. Higgins, though he may not always mean it. I do hope, +sir, you won't encourage him to do anything foolish. + +HIGGINS [becoming excited as the idea grows on him] What is life +but a series of inspired follies? The difficulty is to find them +to do. Never lose a chance: it doesn't come every day. I shall +make a duchess of this draggletailed guttersnipe. + +LIZA [strongly deprecating this view of her] Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow-- +oo! + +HIGGINS [carried away] Yes: in six months--in three if she has a +good ear and a quick tongue--I'll take her anywhere and pass her +off as anything. We'll start today: now! this moment! Take her +away and clean her, Mrs. Pearce. Monkey Brand, if it won't come +off any other way. Is there a good fire in the kitchen? + +MRS. PEARCE [protesting]. Yes; but-- + +HIGGINS [storming on] Take all her clothes off and burn them. +Ring up Whiteley or somebody for new ones. Wrap her up in brown +paper till they come. + +LIZA. You're no gentleman, you're not, to talk of such things. +I'm a good girl, I am; and I know what the like of you are, I do. + +HIGGINS. We want none of your Lisson Grove prudery here, young +woman. You've got to learn to behave like a duchess. Take her +away, Mrs. Pearce. If she gives you any trouble wallop her. + +LIZA [springing up and running between Pickering and Mrs. Pearce +for protection] No! I'll call the police, I will. + +MRS. PEARCE. But I've no place to put her. + +HIGGINS. Put her in the dustbin. + +LIZA. Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--oo! + +PICKERING. Oh come, Higgins! be reasonable. + +MRS. PEARCE [resolutely] You must be reasonable, Mr. Higgins: +really you must. You can't walk over everybody like this. + +Higgins, thus scolded, subsides. The hurricane is succeeded by a +zephyr of amiable surprise. + +HIGGINS [with professional exquisiteness of modulation] I walk +over everybody! My dear Mrs. Pearce, my dear Pickering, I never +had the slightest intention of walking over anyone. All I propose +is that we should be kind to this poor girl. We must help her to +prepare and fit herself for her new station in life. If I did not +express myself clearly it was because I did not wish to hurt her +delicacy, or yours. + +Liza, reassured, steals back to her chair. + +MRS. PEARCE [to Pickering] Well, did you ever hear anything like +that, sir? + +PICKERING [laughing heartily] Never, Mrs. Pearce: never. + +HIGGINS [patiently] What's the matter? + +MRS. PEARCE. Well, the matter is, sir, that you can't take a girl +up like that as if you were picking up a pebble on the beach. + +HIGGINS. Why not? + +MRS. PEARCE. Why not! But you don't know anything about her. What +about her parents? She may be married. + +LIZA. Garn! + +HIGGINS. There! As the girl very properly says, Garn! Married +indeed! Don't you know that a woman of that class looks a worn +out drudge of fifty a year after she's married. + +LIZA. Who'd marry me? + +HIGGINS [suddenly resorting to the most thrillingly beautiful low +tones in his best elocutionary style] By George, Eliza, the +streets will be strewn with the bodies of men shooting themselves +for your sake before I've done with you. + +MRS. PEARCE. Nonsense, sir. You mustn't talk like that to her. + +LIZA [rising and squaring herself determinedly] I'm going away. +He's off his chump, he is. I don't want no balmies teaching me. + +HIGGINS [wounded in his tenderest point by her insensibility to +his elocution] Oh, indeed! I'm mad, am I? Very well, Mrs. Pearce: +you needn't order the new clothes for her. Throw her out. + +LIZA [whimpering] Nah--ow. You got no right to touch me. + +MRS. PEARCE. You see now what comes of being saucy. [Indicating +the door] This way, please. + +LIZA [almost in tears] I didn't want no clothes. I wouldn't have +taken them [she throws away the handkerchief]. I can buy my own +clothes. + +HIGGINS [deftly retrieving the handkerchief and intercepting her +on her reluctant way to the door] You're an ungrateful wicked +girl. This is my return for offering to take you out of the +gutter and dress you beautifully and make a lady of you. + +MRS. PEARCE. Stop, Mr. Higgins. I won't allow it. It's you that +are wicked. Go home to your parents, girl; and tell them to take +better care of you. + +LIZA. I ain't got no parents. They told me I was big enough to +earn my own living and turned me out. + +MRS. PEARCE. Where's your mother? + +LIZA. I ain't got no mother. Her that turned me out was my sixth +stepmother. But I done without them. And I'm a good girl, I am. + +HIGGINS. Very well, then, what on earth is all this fuss about? +The girl doesn't belong to anybody--is no use to anybody but me. +[He goes to Mrs. Pearce and begins coaxing]. You can adopt her, +Mrs. Pearce: I'm sure a daughter would be a great amusement to +you. Now don't make any more fuss. Take her downstairs; and-- + +MRS. PEARCE. But what's to become of her? Is she to be paid +anything? Do be sensible, sir. + +HIGGINS. Oh, pay her whatever is necessary: put it down in the +housekeeping book. [Impatiently] What on earth will she want with +money? She'll have her food and her clothes. She'll only drink if +you give her money. + +LIZA [turning on him] Oh you are a brute. It's a lie: nobody ever +saw the sign of liquor on me. [She goes back to her chair and +plants herself there defiantly]. + +PICKERING [in good-humored remonstrance] Does it occur to you, +Higgins, that the girl has some feelings? + +HIGGINS [looking critically at her] Oh no, I don't think so. Not +any feelings that we need bother about. [Cheerily] Have you, +Eliza? + +LIZA. I got my feelings same as anyone else. + +HIGGINS [to Pickering, reflectively] You see the difficulty? + +PICKERING. Eh? What difficulty? + +HIGGINS. To get her to talk grammar. The mere pronunciation is +easy enough. + +LIZA. I don't want to talk grammar. I want to talk like a lady. + +MRS. PEARCE. Will you please keep to the point, Mr. Higgins. I +want to know on what terms the girl is to be here. Is she to have +any wages? And what is to become of her when you've finished +your teaching? You must look ahead a little. + +HIGGINS [impatiently] What's to become of her if I leave her in +the gutter? Tell me that, Mrs. Pearce. + +MRS. PEARCE. That's her own business, not yours, Mr. Higgins. + +HIGGINS. Well, when I've done with her, we can throw her back +into the gutter; and then it will be her own business again; so +that's all right. + +LIZA. Oh, you've no feeling heart in you: you don't care for +nothing but yourself [she rises and takes the floor resolutely]. +Here! I've had enough of this. I'm going [making for the door]. +You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you ought. + +HIGGINS [snatching a chocolate cream from the piano, his eyes +suddenly beginning to twinkle with mischief] Have some +chocolates, Eliza. + +LIZA [halting, tempted] How do I know what might be in them? I've +heard of girls being drugged by the like of you. + +Higgins whips out his penknife; cuts a chocolate in two; puts one +half into his mouth and bolts it; and offers her the other half. + +HIGGINS. Pledge of good faith, Eliza. I eat one half you eat the +other. + +[Liza opens her mouth to retort: he pops the half chocolate into +it]. You shall have boxes of them, barrels of them, every day. +You shall live on them. Eh? + +LIZA [who has disposed of the chocolate after being nearly choked +by it] I wouldn't have ate it, only I'm too ladylike to take it +out of my mouth. + +HIGGINS. Listen, Eliza. I think you said you came in a taxi. + +LIZA. Well, what if I did? I've as good a right to take a taxi as +anyone else. + +HIGGINS. You have, Eliza; and in future you shall have as many +taxis as you want. You shall go up and down and round the town in +a taxi every day. Think of that, Eliza. + +MRS. PEARCE. Mr. Higgins: you're tempting the girl. It's not +right. She should think of the future. + +HIGGINS. At her age! Nonsense! Time enough to think of the future +when you haven't any future to think of. No, Eliza: do as this +lady does: think of other people's futures; but never think of +your own. Think of chocolates, and taxis, and gold, and diamonds. + +LIZA. No: I don't want no gold and no diamonds. I'm a good girl, +I am. [She sits down again, with an attempt at dignity]. + +HIGGINS. You shall remain so, Eliza, under the care of Mrs. +Pearce. And you shall marry an officer in the Guards, with a +beautiful moustache: the son of a marquis, who will disinherit +him for marrying you, but will relent when he sees your beauty +and goodness-- + +PICKERING. Excuse me, Higgins; but I really must interfere. Mrs. +Pearce is quite right. If this girl is to put herself in your +hands for six months for an experiment in teaching, she must +understand thoroughly what she's doing. + +HIGGINS. How can she? She's incapable of understanding anything. +Besides, do any of us understand what we are doing? If we did, +would we ever do it? + +PICKERING. Very clever, Higgins; but not sound sense. [To Eliza] +Miss Doolittle-- + +LIZA [overwhelmed] Ah--ah--ow--oo! + +HIGGINS. There! That's all you get out of Eliza. Ah--ah--ow--oo! +No use explaining. As a military man you ought to know that. Give +her her orders: that's what she wants. Eliza: you are to live +here for the next six months, learning how to speak beautifully, +like a lady in a florist's shop. If you're good and do whatever +you're told, you shall sleep in a proper bedroom, and have lots +to eat, and money to buy chocolates and take rides in taxis. If +you're naughty and idle you will sleep in the back kitchen among +the black beetles, and be walloped by Mrs. Pearce with a +broomstick. At the end of six months you shall go to Buckingham +Palace in a carriage, beautifully dressed. If the King finds out +you're not a lady, you will be taken by the police to the Tower +of London, where your head will be cut off as a warning to other +presumptuous flower girls. If you are not found out, you shall +have a present of seven-and-sixpence to start life with as a lady +in a shop. If you refuse this offer you will be a most ungrateful +and wicked girl; and the angels will weep for you. [To Pickering] +Now are you satisfied, Pickering? [To Mrs. Pearce] Can I put it +more plainly and fairly, Mrs. Pearce? + +MRS. PEARCE [patiently] I think you'd better let me speak to the +girl properly in private. I don't know that I can take charge of +her or consent to the arrangement at all. Of course I know you +don't mean her any harm; but when you get what you call +interested in people's accents, you never think or care what may +happen to them or you. Come with me, Eliza. + +HIGGINS. That's all right. Thank you, Mrs. Pearce. Bundle her off +to the bath-room. + +LIZA [rising reluctantly and suspiciously] You're a great bully, +you are. I won't stay here if I don't like. I won't let nobody +wallop me. I never asked to go to Bucknam Palace, I didn't. I was +never in trouble with the police, not me. I'm a good girl-- + +MRS. PEARCE. Don't answer back, girl. You don't understand the +gentleman. Come with me. [She leads the way to the door, and +holds it open for Eliza]. + +LIZA [as she goes out] Well, what I say is right. I won't go near +the king, not if I'm going to have my head cut off. If I'd +known what I was letting myself in for, I wouldn't have come +here. I always been a good girl; and I never offered to say a +word to him; and I don't owe him nothing; and I don't care; and I +won't be put upon; and I have my feelings the same as anyone +else-- + +Mrs. Pearce shuts the door; and Eliza's plaints are no longer +audible. Pickering comes from the hearth to the chair and sits +astride it with his arms on the back. + +PICKERING. Excuse the straight question, Higgins. Are you a man +of good character where women are concerned? + +HIGGINS [moodily] Have you ever met a man of good character where +women are concerned? + +PICKERING. Yes: very frequently. + +HIGGINS [dogmatically, lifting himself on his hands to the level +of the piano, and sitting on it with a bounce] Well, I haven't. I +find that the moment I let a woman make friends with me, she +becomes jealous, exacting, suspicious, and a damned nuisance. I +find that the moment I let myself make friends with a woman, I +become selfish and tyrannical. Women upset everything. When you +let them into your life, you find that the woman is driving at +one thing and you're driving at another. + +PICKERING. At what, for example? + +HIGGINS [coming off the piano restlessly] Oh, Lord knows! I +suppose the woman wants to live her own life; and the man wants +to live his; and each tries to drag the other on to the wrong +track. One wants to go north and the other south; and the result +is that both have to go east, though they both hate the east +wind. [He sits down on the bench at the keyboard]. So here I am, +a confirmed old bachelor, and likely to remain so. + +PICKERING [rising and standing over him gravely] Come, Higgins! +You know what I mean. If I'm to be in this business I shall feel +responsible for that girl. I hope it's understood that no +advantage is to be taken of her position. + +HIGGINS. What! That thing! Sacred, I assure you. [Rising to +explain] You see, she'll be a pupil; and teaching would be +impossible unless pupils were sacred. I've taught scores of +American millionairesses how to speak English: the best looking +women in the world. I'm seasoned. They might as well be blocks of +wood. I might as well be a block of wood. It's-- + +Mrs. Pearce opens the door. She has Eliza's hat in her hand. +Pickering retires to the easy-chair at the hearth and sits down. + +HIGGINS [eagerly] Well, Mrs. Pearce: is it all right? + +MRS. PEARCE [at the door] I just wish to trouble you with a word, +if I may, Mr. Higgins. + +HIGGINS. Yes, certainly. Come in. [She comes forward]. Don't burn +that, Mrs. Pearce. I'll keep it as a curiosity. [He takes the +hat]. + +MRS. PEARCE. Handle it carefully, sir, please. I had to promise +her not to burn it; but I had better put it in the oven for a +while. + +HIGGINS [putting it down hastily on the piano] Oh! thank you. +Well, what have you to say to me? + +PICKERING. Am I in the way? + +MRS. PEARCE. Not at all, sir. Mr. Higgins: will you please be +very particular what you say before the girl? + +HIGGINS [sternly] Of course. I'm always particular about what I +say. Why do you say this to me? + +MRS. PEARCE [unmoved] No, sir: you're not at all particular when +you've mislaid anything or when you get a little impatient. Now +it doesn't matter before me: I'm used to it. But you really must +not swear before the girl. + +HIGGINS [indignantly] I swear! [Most emphatically] I never swear. +I detest the habit. What the devil do you mean? + +MRS. PEARCE [stolidly] That's what I mean, sir. You swear a great +deal too much. I don't mind your damning and blasting, and what +the devil and where the devil and who the devil-- + +HIGGINS. Really! Mrs. Pearce: this language from your lips! + +MRS. PEARCE [not to be put off]--but there is a certain word I +must ask you not to use. The girl has just used it herself +because the bath was too hot. It begins with the same letter as +bath. She knows no better: she learnt it at her mother's knee. +But she must not hear it from your lips. + +HIGGINS [loftily] I cannot charge myself with having ever uttered +it, Mrs. Pearce. [She looks at him steadfastly. He adds, hiding +an uneasy conscience with a judicial air] Except perhaps in a +moment of extreme and justifiable excitement. + +MRS. PEARCE. Only this morning, sir, you applied it to your +boots, to the butter, and to the brown bread. + +HIGGINS. Oh, that! Mere alliteration, Mrs. Pearce, natural to a +poet. + +MRS. PEARCE. Well, sir, whatever you choose to call it, I beg you +not to let the girl hear you repeat it. + +HIGGINS. Oh, very well, very well. Is that all? + +MRS. PEARCE. No, sir. We shall have to be very particular with +this girl as to personal cleanliness. + +HIGGINS. Certainly. Quite right. Most important. + +MRS. PEARCE. I mean not to be slovenly about her dress or untidy +in leaving things about. + +HIGGINS [going to her solemnly] Just so. I intended to call your +attention to that [He passes on to Pickering, who is enjoying the +conversation immensely]. It is these little things that matter, +Pickering. Take care of the pence and the pounds will take care +of themselves is as true of personal habits as of money. [He +comes to anchor on the hearthrug, with the air of a man in an +unassailable position]. + +MRS. PEARCE. Yes, sir. Then might I ask you not to come down to +breakfast in your dressing-gown, or at any rate not to use it as +a napkin to the extent you do, sir. And if you would be so good +as not to eat everything off the same plate, and to remember not +to put the porridge saucepan out of your hand on the clean +tablecloth, it would be a better example to the girl. You know +you nearly choked yourself with a fishbone in the jam only last +week. + +HIGGINS [routed from the hearthrug and drifting back to the +piano] I may do these things sometimes in absence of mind; but +surely I don't do them habitually. [Angrily] By the way: my +dressing-gown smells most damnably of benzine. + +MRS. PEARCE. No doubt it does, Mr. Higgins. But if you will wipe +your fingers-- + +HIGGINS [yelling] Oh very well, very well: I'll wipe them in my +hair in future. + +MRS. PEARCE. I hope you're not offended, Mr. Higgins. + +HIGGINS [shocked at finding himself thought capable of an +unamiable sentiment] Not at all, not at all. You're quite right, +Mrs. Pearce: I shall be particularly careful before the girl. Is +that all? + +MRS. PEARCE. No, sir. Might she use some of those Japanese +dresses you brought from abroad? I really can't put her back into +her old things. + +HIGGINS. Certainly. Anything you like. Is that all? + +MRS. PEARCE. Thank you, sir. That's all. [She goes out]. + +HIGGINS. You know, Pickering, that woman has the most +extraordinary ideas about me. Here I am, a shy, diffident sort of +man. I've never been able to feel really grown-up and tremendous, +like other chaps. And yet she's firmly persuaded that I'm an +arbitrary overbearing bossing kind of person. I can't account +for it. + +Mrs. Pearce returns. + +MRS. PEARCE. If you please, sir, the trouble's beginning already. +There's a dustman downstairs, Alfred Doolittle, wants to see you. +He says you have his daughter here. + +PICKERING [rising] Phew! I say! [He retreats to the hearthrug]. + +HIGGINS [promptly] Send the blackguard up. + +MRS. PEARCE. Oh, very well, sir. [She goes out]. + +PICKERING. He may not be a blackguard, Higgins. + +HIGGINS. Nonsense. Of course he's a blackguard. + +PICKERING. Whether he is or not, I'm afraid we shall have some +trouble with him. + +HIGGINS [confidently] Oh no: I think not. If there's any trouble +he shall have it with me, not I with him. And we are sure to get +something interesting out of him. + +PICKERING. About the girl? + +HIGGINS. No. I mean his dialect. + +PICKERING. Oh! + +MRS. PEARCE [at the door] Doolittle, sir. [She admits Doolittle +and retires]. + +Alfred Doolittle is an elderly but vigorous dustman, clad in the +costume of his profession, including a hat with a back brim +covering his neck and shoulders. He has well marked and rather +interesting features, and seems equally free from fear and +conscience. He has a remarkably expressive voice, the result of a +habit of giving vent to his feelings without reserve. His present +pose is that of wounded honor and stern resolution. + +DOOLITTLE [at the door, uncertain which of the two gentlemen is +his man] Professor Higgins? + +HIGGINS. Here. Good morning. Sit down. + +DOOLITTLE. Morning, Governor. [He sits down magisterially] I come +about a very serious matter, Governor. + +HIGGINS [to Pickering] Brought up in Hounslow. Mother Welsh, I +should think. [Doolittle opens his mouth, amazed. Higgins +continues] What do you want, Doolittle? + +DOOLITTLE [menacingly] I want my daughter: that's what I want. +See? + +HIGGINS. Of course you do. You're her father, aren't you? You +don't suppose anyone else wants her, do you? I'm glad to see you +have some spark of family feeling left. She's upstairs. Take her +away at once. + +DOOLITTLE [rising, fearfully taken aback] What! + +HIGGINS. Take her away. Do you suppose I'm going to keep your +daughter for you? + +DOOLITTLE [remonstrating] Now, now, look here, Governor. Is this +reasonable? Is it fair to take advantage of a man like this? The +girl belongs to me. You got her. Where do I come in? [He sits +down again]. + +HIGGINS. Your daughter had the audacity to come to my house and +ask me to teach her how to speak properly so that she could get a +place in a flower-shop. This gentleman and my housekeeper have +been here all the time. [Bullying him] How dare you come here and +attempt to blackmail me? You sent her here on purpose. + +DOOLITTLE [protesting] No, Governor. + +HIGGINS. You must have. How else could you possibly know that she +is here? + +DOOLITTLE. Don't take a man up like that, Governor. + +HIGGINS. The police shall take you up. This is a plant--a plot to +extort money by threats. I shall telephone for the police [he +goes resolutely to the telephone and opens the directory]. + +DOOLITTLE. Have I asked you for a brass farthing? I leave it to +the gentleman here: have I said a word about money? + +HIGGINS [throwing the book aside and marching down on Doolittle +with a poser] What else did you come for? + +DOOLITTLE [sweetly] Well, what would a man come for? Be human, +governor. + +HIGGINS [disarmed] Alfred: did you put her up to it? + +DOOLITTLE. So help me, Governor, I never did. I take my Bible +oath I ain't seen the girl these two months past. + +HIGGINS. Then how did you know she was here? + +DOOLITTLE ["most musical, most melancholy"] I'll tell you, +Governor, if you'll only let me get a word in. I'm willing to +tell you. I'm wanting to tell you. I'm waiting to tell you. + +HIGGINS. Pickering: this chap has a certain natural gift of +rhetoric. Observe the rhythm of his native woodnotes wild. "I'm +willing to tell you: I'm wanting to tell you: I'm waiting to tell +you." Sentimental rhetoric! That's the Welsh strain in him. It +also accounts for his mendacity and dishonesty. + +PICKERING. Oh, PLEASE, Higgins: I'm west country myself. [To +Doolittle] How did you know the girl was here if you didn't send +her? + +DOOLITTLE. It was like this, Governor. The girl took a boy in the +taxi to give him a jaunt. Son of her landlady, he is. He hung +about on the chance of her giving him another ride home. Well, +she sent him back for her luggage when she heard you was willing +for her to stop here. I met the boy at the corner of Long Acre +and Endell Street. + +HIGGINS. Public house. Yes? + +DOOLITTLE. The poor man's club, Governor: why shouldn't I? + +PICKERING. Do let him tell his story, Higgins. + +DOOLITTLE. He told me what was up. And I ask you, what was my +feelings and my duty as a father? I says to the boy, "You bring +me the luggage," I says-- + +PICKERING. Why didn't you go for it yourself? + +DOOLITTLE. Landlady wouldn't have trusted me with it, Governor. +She's that kind of woman: you know. I had to give the boy a penny +afore he trusted me with it, the little swine. I brought it to +her just to oblige you like, and make myself agreeable. That's +all. + +HIGGINS. How much luggage? + +DOOLITTLE. Musical instrument, Governor. A few pictures, a trifle +of jewelry, and a bird-cage. She said she didn't want no clothes. +What was I to think from that, Governor? I ask you as a parent +what was I to think? + +HIGGINS. So you came to rescue her from worse than death, eh? + +DOOLITTLE [appreciatively: relieved at being understood] Just so, +Governor. That's right. + +PICKERING. But why did you bring her luggage if you intended to +take her away? + +DOOLITTLE. Have I said a word about taking her away? Have I now? + +HIGGINS [determinedly] You're going to take her away, double +quick. [He crosses to the hearth and rings the bell]. + +DOOLITTLE [rising] No, Governor. Don't say that. I'm not the man +to stand in my girl's light. Here's a career opening for her, as +you might say; and-- + +Mrs. Pearce opens the door and awaits orders. + +HIGGINS. Mrs. Pearce: this is Eliza's father. He has come to take +her away. Give her to him. [He goes back to the piano, with an +air of washing his hands of the whole affair]. + +DOOLITTLE. No. This is a misunderstanding. Listen here-- + +MRS. PEARCE. He can't take her away, Mr. Higgins: how can he? You +told me to burn her clothes. + +DOOLITTLE. That's right. I can't carry the girl through the +streets like a blooming monkey, can I? I put it to you. + +HIGGINS. You have put it to me that you want your daughter. Take +your daughter. If she has no clothes go out and buy her some. + +DOOLITTLE [desperate] Where's the clothes she come in? Did I burn +them or did your missus here? + +MRS. PEARCE. I am the housekeeper, if you please. I have sent for +some clothes for your girl. When they come you can take her away. +You can wait in the kitchen. This way, please. + +Doolittle, much troubled, accompanies her to the door; then +hesitates; finally turns confidentially to Higgins. + +DOOLITTLE. Listen here, Governor. You and me is men of the world, +ain't we? + +HIGGINS. Oh! Men of the world, are we? You'd better go, Mrs. +Pearce. + +MRS. PEARCE. I think so, indeed, sir. [She goes, with dignity]. + +PICKERING. The floor is yours, Mr. Doolittle. + +DOOLITTLE [to Pickering] I thank you, Governor. [To Higgins, who +takes refuge on the piano bench, a little overwhelmed by the +proximity of his visitor; for Doolittle has a professional flavor +of dust about him]. Well, the truth is, I've taken a sort of +fancy to you, Governor; and if you want the girl, I'm not so set +on having her back home again but what I might be open to an +arrangement. Regarded in the light of a young woman, she's a fine +handsome girl. As a daughter she's not worth her keep; and so I +tell you straight. All I ask is my rights as a father; and you're +the last man alive to expect me to let her go for nothing; for I +can see you're one of the straight sort, Governor. Well, what's a +five pound note to you? And what's Eliza to me? [He returns to +his chair and sits down judicially]. + +PICKERING. I think you ought to know, Doolittle, that Mr. +Higgins's intentions are entirely honorable. + +DOOLITTLE. Course they are, Governor. If I thought they wasn't, +I'd ask fifty. + +HIGGINS [revolted] Do you mean to say, you callous rascal, that +you would sell your daughter for 50 pounds? + +DOOLITTLE. Not in a general way I wouldn't; but to oblige a +gentleman like you I'd do a good deal, I do assure you. + +PICKERING. Have you no morals, man? + +DOOLITTLE [unabashed] Can't afford them, Governor. Neither could +you if you was as poor as me. Not that I mean any harm, you know. +But if Liza is going to have a bit out of this, why not me too? + +HIGGINS [troubled] I don't know what to do, Pickering. There can +be no question that as a matter of morals it's a positive crime +to give this chap a farthing. And yet I feel a sort of rough +justice in his claim. + +DOOLITTLE. That's it, Governor. That's all I say. A father's +heart, as it were. + +PICKERING. Well, I know the feeling; but really it seems hardly +right-- + +DOOLITTLE. Don't say that, Governor. Don't look at it that way. +What am I, Governors both? I ask you, what am I? I'm one of the +undeserving poor: that's what I am. Think of what that means to a +man. It means that he's up agen middle class morality all the +time. If there's anything going, and I put in for a bit of it, +it's always the same story: "You're undeserving; so you can't +have it." But my needs is as great as the most deserving widow's +that ever got money out of six different charities in one week +for the death of the same husband. I don't need less than a +deserving man: I need more. I don't eat less hearty than him; and +I drink a lot more. I want a bit of amusement, cause I'm a +thinking man. I want cheerfulness and a song and a band when I +feel low. Well, they charge me just the same for everything as +they charge the deserving. What is middle class morality? Just an +excuse for never giving me anything. Therefore, I ask you, as two +gentlemen, not to play that game on me. I'm playing straight with +you. I ain't pretending to be deserving. I'm undeserving; and I +mean to go on being undeserving. I like it; and that's the truth. +Will you take advantage of a man's nature to do him out of the +price of his own daughter what he's brought up and fed and +clothed by the sweat of his brow until she's growed big enough to +be interesting to you two gentlemen? Is five pounds unreasonable? +I put it to you; and I leave it to you. + +HIGGINS [rising, and going over to Pickering] Pickering: if we +were to take this man in hand for three months, he could choose +between a seat in the Cabinet and a popular pulpit in Wales. + +PICKERING. What do you say to that, Doolittle? + +DOOLITTLE. Not me, Governor, thank you kindly. I've heard all the +preachers and all the prime ministers--for I'm a thinking man and +game for politics or religion or social reform same as all the +other amusements--and I tell you it's a dog's life anyway you +look at it. Undeserving poverty is my line. Taking one station in +society with another, it's--it's--well, it's the only one that +has any ginger in it, to my taste. + +HIGGINS. I suppose we must give him a fiver. + +PICKERING. He'll make a bad use of it, I'm afraid. + +DOOLITTLE. Not me, Governor, so help me I won't. Don't you be +afraid that I'll save it and spare it and live idle on it. There +won't be a penny of it left by Monday: I'll have to go to work +same as if I'd never had it. It won't pauperize me, you bet. Just +one good spree for myself and the missus, giving pleasure to +ourselves and employment to others, and satisfaction to you to +think it's not been throwed away. You couldn't spend it better. + +HIGGINS [taking out his pocket book and coming between Doolittle +and the piano] This is irresistible. Let's give him ten. [He +offers two notes to the dustman]. + +DOOLITTLE. No, Governor. She wouldn't have the heart to spend +ten; and perhaps I shouldn't neither. Ten pounds is a lot of +money: it makes a man feel prudent like; and then goodbye to +happiness. You give me what I ask you, Governor: not a penny +more, and not a penny less. + +PICKERING. Why don't you marry that missus of yours? I rather +draw the line at encouraging that sort of immorality. + +DOOLITTLE. Tell her so, Governor: tell her so. I'm willing. It's +me that suffers by it. I've no hold on her. I got to be agreeable +to her. I got to give her presents. I got to buy her clothes +something sinful. I'm a slave to that woman, Governor, just +because I'm not her lawful husband. And she knows it too. Catch +her marrying me! Take my advice, Governor: marry Eliza while +she's young and don't know no better. If you don't you'll be +sorry for it after. If you do, she'll be sorry for it after; but +better you than her, because you're a man, and she's only a woman +and don't know how to be happy anyhow. + +HIGGINS. Pickering: if we listen to this man another minute, we +shall have no convictions left. [To Doolittle] Five pounds I +think you said. + +DOOLITTLE. Thank you kindly, Governor. + +HIGGINS. You're sure you won't take ten? + +DOOLITTLE. Not now. Another time, Governor. + +HIGGINS [handing him a five-pound note] Here you are. + +DOOLITTLE. Thank you, Governor. Good morning. + +[He hurries to the door, anxious to get away with his booty. When +he opens it he is confronted with a dainty and exquisitely clean +young Japanese lady in a simple blue cotton kimono printed +cunningly with small white jasmine blossoms. Mrs. Pearce is with +her. He gets out of her way deferentially and apologizes]. Beg +pardon, miss. + +THE JAPANESE LADY. Garn! Don't you know your own daughter? + +DOOLITTLE {exclaiming Bly me! it's Eliza! +HIGGINS {simul- What's that! This! +PICKERING {taneously By Jove! + +LIZA. Don't I look silly? + +HIGGINS. Silly? + +MRS. PEARCE [at the door] Now, Mr. Higgins, please don't say +anything to make the girl conceited about herself. + +HIGGINS [conscientiously] Oh! Quite right, Mrs. Pearce. [To +Eliza] Yes: damned silly. + +MRS. PEARCE. Please, sir. + +HIGGINS [correcting himself] I mean extremely silly. + +LIZA. I should look all right with my hat on. [She takes up her +hat; puts it on; and walks across the room to the fireplace with +a fashionable air]. + +HIGGINS. A new fashion, by George! And it ought to look horrible! + +DOOLITTLE [with fatherly pride] Well, I never thought she'd clean +up as good looking as that, Governor. She's a credit to me, ain't +she? + +LIZA. I tell you, it's easy to clean up here. Hot and cold water +on tap, just as much as you like, there is. Woolly towels, there +is; and a towel horse so hot, it burns your fingers. Soft brushes +to scrub yourself, and a wooden bowl of soap smelling like +primroses. Now I know why ladies is so clean. Washing's a treat +for them. Wish they saw what it is for the like of me! + +HIGGINS. I'm glad the bath-room met with your approval. + +LIZA. It didn't: not all of it; and I don't care who hears me say +it. Mrs. Pearce knows. + +HIGGINS. What was wrong, Mrs. Pearce? + +MRS. PEARCE [blandly] Oh, nothing, sir. It doesn't matter. + +LIZA. I had a good mind to break it. I didn't know which way to +look. But I hung a towel over it, I did. + +HIGGINS. Over what? + +MRS. PEARCE. Over the looking-glass, sir. + +HIGGINS. Doolittle: you have brought your daughter up too +strictly. + +DOOLITTLE. Me! I never brought her up at all, except to give her +a lick of a strap now and again. Don't put it on me, Governor. +She ain't accustomed to it, you see: that's all. But she'll soon +pick up your free-and-easy ways. + +LIZA. I'm a good girl, I am; and I won't pick up no free and easy +ways. + +HIGGINS. Eliza: if you say again that you're a good girl, your +father shall take you home. + +LIZA. Not him. You don't know my father. All he come here for was +to touch you for some money to get drunk on. + +DOOLITTLE. Well, what else would I want money for? To put into +the plate in church, I suppose. [She puts out her tongue at him. +He is so incensed by this that Pickering presently finds it +necessary to step between them]. Don't you give me none of your +lip; and don't let me hear you giving this gentleman any of it +neither, or you'll hear from me about it. See? + +HIGGINS. Have you any further advice to give her before you go, +Doolittle? Your blessing, for instance. + +DOOLITTLE. No, Governor: I ain't such a mug as to put up my +children to all I know myself. Hard enough to hold them in +without that. If you want Eliza's mind improved, Governor, you do +it yourself with a strap. So long, gentlemen. [He turns to go]. + +HIGGINS [impressively] Stop. You'll come regularly to see your +daughter. It's your duty, you know. My brother is a clergyman; +and he could help you in your talks with her. + +DOOLITTLE [evasively] Certainly. I'll come, Governor. Not just +this week, because I have a job at a distance. But later on you +may depend on me. Afternoon, gentlemen. Afternoon, ma'am. [He +takes off his hat to Mrs. Pearce, who disdains the salutation and +goes out. He winks at Higgins, thinking him probably a fellow +sufferer from Mrs. Pearce's difficult disposition, and follows +her]. + +LIZA. Don't you believe the old liar. He'd as soon you set a +bull-dog on him as a clergyman. You won't see him again in a +hurry. + +HIGGINS. I don't want to, Eliza. Do you? + +LIZA. Not me. I don't want never to see him again, I don't. He's +a disgrace to me, he is, collecting dust, instead of working at +his trade. + +PICKERING. What is his trade, Eliza? + +LIZA. Talking money out of other people's pockets into his own. +His proper trade's a navvy; and he works at it sometimes too--for +exercise--and earns good money at it. Ain't you going to call me +Miss Doolittle any more? + +PICKERING. I beg your pardon, Miss Doolittle. It was a slip of +the tongue. + +LIZA. Oh, I don't mind; only it sounded so genteel. I should just +like to take a taxi to the corner of Tottenham Court Road and get +out there and tell it to wait for me, just to put the girls in +their place a bit. I wouldn't speak to them, you know. + +PICKERING. Better wait til we get you something really +fashionable. + +HIGGINS. Besides, you shouldn't cut your old friends now that you +have risen in the world. That's what we call snobbery. + +LIZA. You don't call the like of them my friends now, I should +hope. They've took it out of me often enough with their ridicule +when they had the chance; and now I mean to get a bit of my own +back. But if I'm to have fashionable clothes, I'll wait. I should +like to have some. Mrs. Pearce says you're going to give me some +to wear in bed at night different to what I wear in the daytime; +but it do seem a waste of money when you could get something to +show. Besides, I never could fancy changing into cold things on a +winter night. + +MRS. PEARCE [coming back] Now, Eliza. The new things have come +for you to try on. + +LIZA. Ah--ow--oo--ooh! [She rushes out]. + +MRS. PEARCE [following her] Oh, don't rush about like that, girl +[She shuts the door behind her]. + +HIGGINS. Pickering: we have taken on a stiff job. + +PICKERING [with conviction] Higgins: we have. + + + + +ACT III + +It is Mrs. Higgins's at-home day. Nobody has yet arrived. Her +drawing-room, in a flat on Chelsea embankment, has three windows +looking on the river; and the ceiling is not so lofty as it would +be in an older house of the same pretension. The windows are +open, giving access to a balcony with flowers in pots. If you +stand with your face to the windows, you have the fireplace on +your left and the door in the right-hand wall close to the corner +nearest the windows. + +Mrs. Higgins was brought up on Morris and Burne Jones; and her +room, which is very unlike her son's room in Wimpole Street, is +not crowded with furniture and little tables and nicknacks. In +the middle of the room there is a big ottoman; and this, with the +carpet, the Morris wall-papers, and the Morris chintz window +curtains and brocade covers of the ottoman and its cushions, +supply all the ornament, and are much too handsome to be hidden +by odds and ends of useless things. A few good oil-paintings from +the exhibitions in the Grosvenor Gallery thirty years ago (the +Burne Jones, not the Whistler side of them) are on the walls. The +only landscape is a Cecil Lawson on the scale of a Rubens. There +is a portrait of Mrs. Higgins as she was when she defied fashion +in her youth in one of the beautiful Rossettian costumes which, +when caricatured by people who did not understand, led to the +absurdities of popular estheticism in the eighteen-seventies. + +In the corner diagonally opposite the door Mrs. Higgins, now over +sixty and long past taking the trouble to dress out of the +fashion, sits writing at an elegantly simple writing-table with a +bell button within reach of her hand. There is a Chippendale +chair further back in the room between her and the window nearest +her side. At the other side of the room, further forward, is an +Elizabethan chair roughly carved in the taste of Inigo Jones. On +the same side a piano in a decorated case. The corner between the +fireplace and the window is occupied by a divan cushioned in +Morris chintz. + +It is between four and five in the afternoon. + +The door is opened violently; and Higgins enters with his hat on. + +MRS. HIGGINS [dismayed] Henry [scolding him]! What are you doing +here to-day? It is my at home day: you promised not to come. [As +he bends to kiss her, she takes his hat off, and presents it to +him]. + +HIGGINS. Oh bother! [He throws the hat down on the table]. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Go home at once. + +HIGGINS [kissing her] I know, mother. I came on purpose. + +MRS. HIGGINS. But you mustn't. I'm serious, Henry. You offend all +my friends: they stop coming whenever they meet you. + +HIGGINS. Nonsense! I know I have no small talk; but people don't +mind. [He sits on the settee]. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Oh! don't they? Small talk indeed! What about your +large talk? Really, dear, you mustn't stay. + +HIGGINS. I must. I've a job for you. A phonetic job. + +MRS. HIGGINS. No use, dear. I'm sorry; but I can't get round your +vowels; and though I like to get pretty postcards in your patent +shorthand, I always have to read the copies in ordinary writing +you so thoughtfully send me. + +HIGGINS. Well, this isn't a phonetic job. + +MRS. HIGGINS. You said it was. + +HIGGINS. Not your part of it. I've picked up a girl. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Does that mean that some girl has picked you up? + +HIGGINS. Not at all. I don't mean a love affair. + +MRS. HIGGINS. What a pity! + +HIGGINS. Why? + +MRS. HIGGINS. Well, you never fall in love with anyone under +forty-five. When will you discover that there are some rather +nice-looking young women about? + +HIGGINS. Oh, I can't be bothered with young women. My idea of a +loveable woman is something as like you as possible. I shall +never get into the way of seriously liking young women: some +habits lie too deep to be changed. [Rising abruptly and walking +about, jingling his money and his keys in his trouser pockets] +Besides, they're all idiots. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Do you know what you would do if you really loved +me, Henry? + +HIGGINS. Oh bother! What? Marry, I suppose? + +MRS. HIGGINS. No. Stop fidgeting and take your hands out of your +pockets. [With a gesture of despair, he obeys and sits down +again]. That's a good boy. Now tell me about the girl. + +HIGGINS. She's coming to see you. + +MRS. HIGGINS. I don't remember asking her. + +HIGGINS. You didn't. I asked her. If you'd known her you wouldn't +have asked her. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Indeed! Why? + +HIGGINS. Well, it's like this. She's a common flower girl. I +picked her off the kerbstone. + +MRS. HIGGINS. And invited her to my at-home! + +HIGGINS [rising and coming to her to coax her] Oh, that'll be all +right. I've taught her to speak properly; and she has strict +orders as to her behavior. She's to keep to two subjects: the +weather and everybody's health--Fine day and How do you do, you +know--and not to let herself go on things in general. That will +be safe. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Safe! To talk about our health! about our insides! +perhaps about our outsides! How could you be so silly, Henry? + +HIGGINS [impatiently] Well, she must talk about something. [He +controls himself and sits down again]. Oh, she'll be all right: +don't you fuss. Pickering is in it with me. I've a sort of bet on +that I'll pass her off as a duchess in six months. I started on +her some months ago; and she's getting on like a house on fire. I +shall win my bet. She has a quick ear; and she's been easier to +teach than my middle-class pupils because she's had to learn a +complete new language. She talks English almost as you talk +French. + +MRS. HIGGINS. That's satisfactory, at all events. + +HIGGINS. Well, it is and it isn't. + +MRS. HIGGINS. What does that mean? + +HIGGINS. You see, I've got her pronunciation all right; but you +have to consider not only how a girl pronounces, but what she +pronounces; and that's where-- + +They are interrupted by the parlor-maid, announcing guests. + +THE PARLOR-MAID. Mrs. and Miss Eynsford Hill. [She withdraws]. + +HIGGINS. Oh Lord! [He rises; snatches his hat from the table; and +makes for the door; but before he reaches it his mother +introduces him]. + +Mrs. and Miss Eynsford Hill are the mother and daughter who +sheltered from the rain in Covent Garden. The mother is well +bred, quiet, and has the habitual anxiety of straitened means. +The daughter has acquired a gay air of being very much at home in +society: the bravado of genteel poverty. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [to Mrs. Higgins] How do you do? [They shake +hands]. + +MISS EYNSFORD HILL. How d'you do? [She shakes]. + +MRS. HIGGINS [introducing] My son Henry. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. Your celebrated son! I have so longed to meet +you, Professor Higgins. + +HIGGINS [glumly, making no movement in her direction] Delighted. +[He backs against the piano and bows brusquely]. + +Miss EYNSFORD HILL [going to him with confident familiarity] How +do you do? + +HIGGINS [staring at her] I've seen you before somewhere. I +haven't the ghost of a notion where; but I've heard your voice. +[Drearily] It doesn't matter. You'd better sit down. + +MRS. HIGGINS. I'm sorry to say that my celebrated son has no +manners. You mustn't mind him. + +MISS EYNSFORD HILL [gaily] I don't. [She sits in the Elizabethan +chair]. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [a little bewildered] Not at all. [She sits on +the ottoman between her daughter and Mrs. Higgins, who has turned +her chair away from the writing-table]. + +HIGGINS. Oh, have I been rude? I didn't mean to be. [He goes to +the central window, through which, with his back to the company, +he contemplates the river and the flowers in Battersea Park on +the opposite bank as if they were a frozen dessert.] + +The parlor-maid returns, ushering in Pickering. + +THE PARLOR-MAID. Colonel Pickering [She withdraws]. + +PICKERING. How do you do, Mrs. Higgins? + +MRS. HIGGINS. So glad you've come. Do you know Mrs. Eynsford +Hill--Miss Eynsford Hill? [Exchange of bows. The Colonel brings +the Chippendale chair a little forward between Mrs. Hill and Mrs. +Higgins, and sits down]. + +PICKERING. Has Henry told you what we've come for? + +HIGGINS [over his shoulder] We were interrupted: damn it! + +MRS. HIGGINS. Oh Henry, Henry, really! + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [half rising] Are we in the way? + +MRS. HIGGINS [rising and making her sit down again] No, no. You +couldn't have come more fortunately: we want you to meet a friend +of ours. + +HIGGINS [turning hopefully] Yes, by George! We want two or three +people. You'll do as well as anybody else. + +The parlor-maid returns, ushering Freddy. + +THE PARLOR-MAID. Mr. Eynsford Hill. + +HIGGINS [almost audibly, past endurance] God of Heaven! another +of them. + +FREDDY [shaking hands with Mrs. Higgins] Ahdedo? + +MRS. HIGGINS. Very good of you to come. [Introducing] Colonel +Pickering. + +FREDDY [bowing] Ahdedo? + +MRS. HIGGINS. I don't think you know my son, Professor Higgins. + +FREDDY [going to Higgins] Ahdedo? + +HIGGINS [looking at him much as if he were a pickpocket] I'll +take my oath I've met you before somewhere. Where was it? + +FREDDY. I don't think so. + +HIGGINS [resignedly] It don't matter, anyhow. Sit down. He shakes +Freddy's hand, and almost slings him on the ottoman with his face +to the windows; then comes round to the other side of it. + +HIGGINS. Well, here we are, anyhow! [He sits down on the ottoman +next Mrs. Eynsford Hill, on her left.] And now, what the devil +are we going to talk about until Eliza comes? + +MRS. HIGGINS. Henry: you are the life and soul of the Royal +Society's soirees; but really you're rather trying on more +commonplace occasions. + +HIGGINS. Am I? Very sorry. [Beaming suddenly] I suppose I am, you +know. [Uproariously] Ha, ha! + +MISS EYNSFORD HILL [who considers Higgins quite eligible +matrimonially] I sympathize. I haven't any small talk. If people +would only be frank and say what they really think! + +HIGGINS [relapsing into gloom] Lord forbid! + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [taking up her daughter's cue] But why? + +HIGGINS. What they think they ought to think is bad enough, Lord +knows; but what they really think would break up the whole show. +Do you suppose it would be really agreeable if I were to come out +now with what I really think? + +MISS EYNSFORD HILL [gaily] Is it so very cynical? + +HIGGINS. Cynical! Who the dickens said it was cynical? I mean it +wouldn't be decent. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [seriously] Oh! I'm sure you don't mean that, +Mr. Higgins. + +HIGGINS. You see, we're all savages, more or less. We're supposed +to be civilized and cultured--to know all about poetry and +philosophy and art and science, and so on; but how many of us +know even the meanings of these names? [To Miss Hill] What do you +know of poetry? [To Mrs. Hill] What do you know of science? +[Indicating Freddy] What does he know of art or science or +anything else? What the devil do you imagine I know of +philosophy? + +MRS. HIGGINS [warningly] Or of manners, Henry? + +THE PARLOR-MAID [opening the door] Miss Doolittle. [She +withdraws]. + +HIGGINS [rising hastily and running to Mrs. Higgins] Here she is, +mother. [He stands on tiptoe and makes signs over his mother's +head to Eliza to indicate to her which lady is her hostess]. + +Eliza, who is exquisitely dressed, produces an impression of such +remarkable distinction and beauty as she enters that they all +rise, quite flustered. Guided by Higgins's signals, she comes to +Mrs. Higgins with studied grace. + +LIZA [speaking with pedantic correctness of pronunciation and +great beauty of tone] How do you do, Mrs. Higgins? [She gasps +slightly in making sure of the H in Higgins, but is quite +successful]. Mr. Higgins told me I might come. + +MRS. HIGGINS [cordially] Quite right: I'm very glad indeed to see +you. + +PICKERING. How do you do, Miss Doolittle? + +LIZA [shaking hands with him] Colonel Pickering, is it not? + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. I feel sure we have met before, Miss +Doolittle. I remember your eyes. + +LIZA. How do you do? [She sits down on the ottoman gracefully in +the place just left vacant by Higgins]. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [introducing] My daughter Clara. + +LIZA. How do you do? + +CLARA [impulsively] How do you do? [She sits down on the ottoman +beside Eliza, devouring her with her eyes]. + +FREDDY [coming to their side of the ottoman] I've certainly had +the pleasure. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [introducing] My son Freddy. + +LIZA. How do you do? + +Freddy bows and sits down in the Elizabethan chair, infatuated. + +HIGGINS [suddenly] By George, yes: it all comes back to me! [They +stare at him]. Covent Garden! [Lamentably] What a damned thing! + +MRS. HIGGINS. Henry, please! [He is about to sit on the edge of +the table]. Don't sit on my writing-table: you'll break it. + +HIGGINS [sulkily] Sorry. + +He goes to the divan, stumbling into the fender and over the +fire-irons on his way; extricating himself with muttered +imprecations; and finishing his disastrous journey by throwing +himself so impatiently on the divan that he almost breaks it. +Mrs. Higgins looks at him, but controls herself and says nothing. + +A long and painful pause ensues. + +MRS. HIGGINS [at last, conversationally] Will it rain, do you +think? + +LIZA. The shallow depression in the west of these islands is +likely to move slowly in an easterly direction. There are no +indications of any great change in the barometrical situation. + +FREDDY. Ha! ha! how awfully funny! + +LIZA. What is wrong with that, young man? I bet I got it right. + +FREDDY. Killing! + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. I'm sure I hope it won't turn cold. There's +so much influenza about. It runs right through our whole family +regularly every spring. + +LIZA [darkly] My aunt died of influenza: so they said. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [clicks her tongue sympathetically]!!! + +LIZA [in the same tragic tone] But it's my belief they done the +old woman in. + +MRS. HIGGINS [puzzled] Done her in? + +LIZA. Y-e-e-e-es, Lord love you! Why should she die of influenza? +She come through diphtheria right enough the year before. I saw +her with my own eyes. Fairly blue with it, she was. They all +thought she was dead; but my father he kept ladling gin down her +throat til she came to so sudden that she bit the bowl off the +spoon. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [startled] Dear me! + +LIZA [piling up the indictment] What call would a woman with that +strength in her have to die of influenza? What become of her new +straw hat that should have come to me? Somebody pinched it; and +what I say is, them as pinched it done her in. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. What does doing her in mean? + +HIGGINS [hastily] Oh, that's the new small talk. To do a person +in means to kill them. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [to Eliza, horrified] You surely don't believe +that your aunt was killed? + +LIZA. Do I not! Them she lived with would have killed her for a +hat-pin, let alone a hat. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. But it can't have been right for your father +to pour spirits down her throat like that. It might have killed +her. + +LIZA. Not her. Gin was mother's milk to her. Besides, he'd poured +so much down his own throat that he knew the good of it. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. Do you mean that he drank? + +LIZA. Drank! My word! Something chronic. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. How dreadful for you! + +LIZA. Not a bit. It never did him no harm what I could see. But +then he did not keep it up regular. [Cheerfully] On the burst, as +you might say, from time to time. And always more agreeable when +he had a drop in. When he was out of work, my mother used to give +him fourpence and tell him to go out and not come back until he'd +drunk himself cheerful and loving-like. There's lots of women has +to make their husbands drunk to make them fit to live with. [Now +quite at her ease] You see, it's like this. If a man has a bit of +a conscience, it always takes him when he's sober; and then it +makes him low-spirited. A drop of booze just takes that off and +makes him happy. [To Freddy, who is in convulsions of suppressed +laughter] Here! what are you sniggering at? + +FREDDY. The new small talk. You do it so awfully well. + +LIZA. If I was doing it proper, what was you laughing at? [To +Higgins] Have I said anything I oughtn't? + +MRS. HIGGINS [interposing] Not at all, Miss Doolittle. + +LIZA. Well, that's a mercy, anyhow. [Expansively] What I always +say is-- + +HIGGINS [rising and looking at his watch] Ahem! + +LIZA [looking round at him; taking the hint; and rising] Well: I +must go. [They all rise. Freddy goes to the door]. So pleased to +have met you. Good-bye. [She shakes hands with Mrs. Higgins]. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Good-bye. + +LIZA. Good-bye, Colonel Pickering. + +PICKERING. Good-bye, Miss Doolittle. [They shake hands]. + +LIZA [nodding to the others] Good-bye, all. + +FREDDY [opening the door for her] Are you walking across the +Park, Miss Doolittle? If so-- + +LIZA. Walk! Not bloody likely. [Sensation]. I am going in a taxi. +[She goes out]. + +Pickering gasps and sits down. Freddy goes out on the balcony to +catch another glimpse of Eliza. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [suffering from shock] Well, I really can't +get used to the new ways. + +CLARA [throwing herself discontentedly into the Elizabethan +chair]. Oh, it's all right, mamma, quite right. People will think +we never go anywhere or see anybody if you are so old-fashioned. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. I daresay I am very old-fashioned; but I do +hope you won't begin using that expression, Clara. I have got +accustomed to hear you talking about men as rotters, and calling +everything filthy and beastly; though I do think it horrible and +unladylike. But this last is really too much. Don't you think so, +Colonel Pickering? + +PICKERING. Don't ask me. I've been away in India for several +years; and manners have changed so much that I sometimes don't +know whether I'm at a respectable dinner-table or in a ship's +forecastle. + +CLARA. It's all a matter of habit. There's no right or wrong in +it. Nobody means anything by it. And it's so quaint, and gives +such a smart emphasis to things that are not in themselves very +witty. I find the new small talk delightful and quite innocent. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [rising] Well, after that, I think it's time +for us to go. + +Pickering and Higgins rise. + +CLARA [rising] Oh yes: we have three at homes to go to still. +Good-bye, Mrs. Higgins. Good-bye, Colonel Pickering. Good-bye, +Professor Higgins. + +HIGGINS [coming grimly at her from the divan, and accompanying +her to the door] Good-bye. Be sure you try on that small talk at +the three at-homes. Don't be nervous about it. Pitch it in +strong. + +CLARA [all smiles] I will. Good-bye. Such nonsense, all this +early Victorian prudery! + +HIGGINS [tempting her] Such damned nonsense! + +CLARA. Such bloody nonsense! + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [convulsively] Clara! + +CLARA. Ha! ha! [She goes out radiant, conscious of being +thoroughly up to date, and is heard descending the stairs in a +stream of silvery laughter]. + +FREDDY [to the heavens at large] Well, I ask you [He gives it up, +and comes to Mrs. Higgins]. Good-bye. + +MRS. HIGGINS [shaking hands] Good-bye. Would you like to meet +Miss Doolittle again? + +FREDDY [eagerly] Yes, I should, most awfully. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Well, you know my days. + +FREDDY. Yes. Thanks awfully. Good-bye. [He goes out]. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. Good-bye, Mr. Higgins. + +HIGGINS. Good-bye. Good-bye. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [to Pickering] It's no use. I shall never be +able to bring myself to use that word. + +PICKERING. Don't. It's not compulsory, you know. You'll get on +quite well without it. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. Only, Clara is so down on me if I am not +positively reeking with the latest slang. Good-bye. + +PICKERING. Good-bye [They shake hands]. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [to Mrs. Higgins] You mustn't mind Clara. +[Pickering, catching from her lowered tone that this is not meant +for him to hear, discreetly joins Higgins at the window]. We're +so poor! and she gets so few parties, poor child! She doesn't +quite know. [Mrs. Higgins, seeing that her eyes are moist, takes +her hand sympathetically and goes with her to the door]. But the +boy is nice. Don't you think so? + +MRS. HIGGINS. Oh, quite nice. I shall always be delighted to see +him. + +MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. Thank you, dear. Good-bye. [She goes out]. + +HIGGINS [eagerly] Well? Is Eliza presentable [he swoops on his +mother and drags her to the ottoman, where she sits down in +Eliza's place with her son on her left]? + +Pickering returns to his chair on her right. + +MRS. HIGGINS. You silly boy, of course she's not presentable. +She's a triumph of your art and of her dressmaker's; but if you +suppose for a moment that she doesn't give herself away in every +sentence she utters, you must be perfectly cracked about her. + +PICKERING. But don't you think something might be done? I mean +something to eliminate the sanguinary element from her +conversation. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Not as long as she is in Henry's hands. + +HIGGINS [aggrieved] Do you mean that my language is improper? + +MRS. HIGGINS. No, dearest: it would be quite proper--say on a +canal barge; but it would not be proper for her at a garden +party. + +HIGGINS [deeply injured] Well I must say-- + +PICKERING [interrupting him] Come, Higgins: you must learn to +know yourself. I haven't heard such language as yours since we +used to review the volunteers in Hyde Park twenty years ago. + +HIGGINS [sulkily] Oh, well, if you say so, I suppose I don't +always talk like a bishop. + +MRS. HIGGINS [quieting Henry with a touch] Colonel Pickering: +will you tell me what is the exact state of things in Wimpole +Street? + +PICKERING [cheerfully: as if this completely changed the subject] +Well, I have come to live there with Henry. We work together at +my Indian Dialects; and we think it more convenient-- + +MRS. HIGGINS. Quite so. I know all about that: it's an excellent +arrangement. But where does this girl live? + +HIGGINS. With us, of course. Where would she live? + +MRS. HIGGINS. But on what terms? Is she a servant? If not, what +is she? + +PICKERING [slowly] I think I know what you mean, Mrs. Higgins. + +HIGGINS. Well, dash me if I do! I've had to work at the girl +every day for months to get her to her present pitch. Besides, +she's useful. She knows where my things are, and remembers my +appointments and so forth. + +MRS. HIGGINS. How does your housekeeper get on with her? + +HIGGINS. Mrs. Pearce? Oh, she's jolly glad to get so much taken +off her hands; for before Eliza came, she had to have to find +things and remind me of my appointments. But she's got some silly +bee in her bonnet about Eliza. She keeps saying "You don't think, +sir": doesn't she, Pick? + +PICKERING. Yes: that's the formula. "You don't think, sir." +That's the end of every conversation about Eliza. + +HIGGINS. As if I ever stop thinking about the girl and her +confounded vowels and consonants. I'm worn out, thinking about +her, and watching her lips and her teeth and her tongue, not to +mention her soul, which is the quaintest of the lot. + +MRS. HIGGINS. You certainly are a pretty pair of babies, playing +with your live doll. + +HIGGINS. Playing! The hardest job I ever tackled: make no mistake +about that, mother. But you have no idea how frightfully +interesting it is to take a human being and change her into a +quite different human being by creating a new speech for her. +It's filling up the deepest gulf that separates class from class +and soul from soul. + +PICKERING [drawing his chair closer to Mrs. Higgins and bending +over to her eagerly] Yes: it's enormously interesting. I assure +you, Mrs. Higgins, we take Eliza very seriously. Every week-- +every day almost--there is some new change. [Closer again] We +keep records of every stage--dozens of gramophone disks and +photographs-- + +HIGGINS [assailing her at the other ear] Yes, by George: it's the +most absorbing experiment I ever tackled. She regularly fills our +lives up; doesn't she, Pick? + +PICKERING. We're always talking Eliza. + +HIGGINS. Teaching Eliza. + +PICKERING. Dressing Eliza. + +MRS. HIGGINS. What! + +HIGGINS. Inventing new Elizas. + +Higgins and Pickering, speaking together: + +HIGGINS. You know, she has the most extraordinary quickness of + ear: +PICKERING. I assure you, my dear Mrs. Higgins, that girl +HIGGINS. just like a parrot. I've tried her with every +PICKERING. is a genius. She can play the piano quite + beautifully +HIGGINS. possible sort of sound that a human being can make-- +PICKERING. We have taken her to classical concerts and to music +HIGGINS. Continental dialects, African dialects, Hottentot +PICKERING. halls; and it's all the same to her: she plays + everything +HIGGINS. clicks, things it took me years to get hold of; and +PICKERING. she hears right off when she comes home, whether it's +HIGGINS. she picks them up like a shot, right away, as if she + had +PICKERING. Beethoven and Brahms or Lehar and Lionel Morickton; +HIGGINS. been at it all her life. +PICKERING. though six months ago, she'd never as much as touched + a piano. + +MRS. HIGGINS [putting her fingers in her ears, as they are by +this time shouting one another down with an intolerable noise] +Sh--sh--sh--sh! [They stop]. + +PICKERING. I beg your pardon. [He draws his chair back +apologetically]. + +HIGGINS. Sorry. When Pickering starts shouting nobody can get a +word in edgeways. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Be quiet, Henry. Colonel Pickering: don't you +realize that when Eliza walked into Wimpole Street, something +walked in with her? + +PICKERING. Her father did. But Henry soon got rid of him. + +MRS. HIGGINS. It would have been more to the point if her mother +had. But as her mother didn't something else did. + +PICKERING. But what? + +MRS. HIGGINS [unconsciously dating herself by the word] A +problem. + +PICKERING. Oh, I see. The problem of how to pass her off as a +lady. + +HIGGINS. I'll solve that problem. I've half solved it already. + +MRS. HIGGINS. No, you two infinitely stupid male creatures: the +problem of what is to be done with her afterwards. + +HIGGINS. I don't see anything in that. She can go her own way, +with all the advantages I have given her. + +MRS. HIGGINS. The advantages of that poor woman who was here just +now! The manners and habits that disqualify a fine lady from +earning her own living without giving her a fine lady's income! +Is that what you mean? + +PICKERING [indulgently, being rather bored] Oh, that will be all +right, Mrs. Higgins. [He rises to go]. + +HIGGINS [rising also] We'll find her some light employment. + +PICKERING. She's happy enough. Don't you worry about her. Good- +bye. [He shakes hands as if he were consoling a frightened child, +and makes for the door]. + +HIGGINS. Anyhow, there's no good bothering now. The thing's done. +Good-bye, mother. [He kisses her, and follows Pickering]. + +PICKERING [turning for a final consolation] There are plenty of +openings. We'll do what's right. Good-bye. + +HIGGINS [to Pickering as they go out together] Let's take her to +the Shakespear exhibition at Earls Court. + +PICKERING. Yes: let's. Her remarks will be delicious. + +HIGGINS. She'll mimic all the people for us when we get home. + +PICKERING. Ripping. [Both are heard laughing as they go +downstairs]. + +MRS. HIGGINS [rises with an impatient bounce, and returns to her +work at the writing-table. She sweeps a litter of disarranged +papers out of her way; snatches a sheet of paper from her +stationery case; and tries resolutely to write. At the third line +she gives it up; flings down her pen; grips the table angrily and +exclaims] Oh, men! men!! men!!! + + + + +ACT IV + +The Wimpole Street laboratory. Midnight. Nobody in the room. The +clock on the mantelpiece strikes twelve. The fire is not alight: +it is a summer night. + +Presently Higgins and Pickering are heard on the stairs. + +HIGGINS [calling down to Pickering] I say, Pick: lock up, will +you. I shan't be going out again. + +PICKERING. Right. Can Mrs. Pearce go to bed? We don't want +anything more, do we? + +HIGGINS. Lord, no! + +Eliza opens the door and is seen on the lighted landing in opera +cloak, brilliant evening dress, and diamonds, with fan, flowers, +and all accessories. She comes to the hearth, and switches on the +electric lights there. She is tired: her pallor contrasts +strongly with her dark eyes and hair; and her expression is +almost tragic. She takes off her cloak; puts her fan and flowers +on the piano; and sits down on the bench, brooding and silent. +Higgins, in evening dress, with overcoat and hat, comes in, +carrying a smoking jacket which he has picked up downstairs. He +takes off the hat and overcoat; throws them carelessly on the +newspaper stand; disposes of his coat in the same way; puts on +the smoking jacket; and throws himself wearily into the +easy-chair at the hearth. Pickering, similarly attired, comes in. +He also takes off his hat and overcoat, and is about to throw +them on Higgins's when he hesitates. + +PICKERING. I say: Mrs. Pearce will row if we leave these things +lying about in the drawing-room. + +HIGGINS. Oh, chuck them over the bannisters into the hall. She'll +find them there in the morning and put them away all right. +She'll think we were drunk. + +PICKERING. We are, slightly. Are there any letters? + +HIGGINS. I didn't look. [Pickering takes the overcoats and hats +and goes down stairs. Higgins begins half singing half yawning an +air from La Fanciulla del Golden West. Suddenly he stops and +exclaims] I wonder where the devil my slippers are! + +Eliza looks at him darkly; then leaves the room. + +Higgins yawns again, and resumes his song. Pickering returns, +with the contents of the letter-box in his hand. + +PICKERING. Only circulars, and this coroneted billet-doux for +you. [He throws the circulars into the fender, and posts himself +on the hearthrug, with his back to the grate]. + +HIGGINS [glancing at the billet-doux] Money-lender. [He throws +the letter after the circulars]. + +Eliza returns with a pair of large down-at-heel slippers. She +places them on the carpet before Higgins, and sits as before +without a word. + +HIGGINS [yawning again] Oh Lord! What an evening! What a crew! +What a silly tomfoollery! [He raises his shoe to unlace it, and +catches sight of the slippers. He stops unlacing and looks at +them as if they had appeared there of their own accord]. Oh! +they're there, are they? + +PICKERING [stretching himself] Well, I feel a bit tired. It's +been a long day. The garden party, a dinner party, and the opera! +Rather too much of a good thing. But you've won your bet, +Higgins. Eliza did the trick, and something to spare, eh? + +HIGGINS [fervently] Thank God it's over! + +Eliza flinches violently; but they take no notice of her; and she +recovers herself and sits stonily as before. + +PICKERING. Were you nervous at the garden party? I was. Eliza +didn't seem a bit nervous. + +HIGGINS. Oh, she wasn't nervous. I knew she'd be all right. No, +it's the strain of putting the job through all these months that +has told on me. It was interesting enough at first, while we were +at the phonetics; but after that I got deadly sick of it. If I +hadn't backed myself to do it I should have chucked the whole +thing up two months ago. It was a silly notion: the whole thing +has been a bore. + +PICKERING. Oh come! the garden party was frightfully exciting. My +heart began beating like anything. + +HIGGINS. Yes, for the first three minutes. But when I saw we were +going to win hands down, I felt like a bear in a cage, hanging +about doing nothing. The dinner was worse: sitting gorging there +for over an hour, with nobody but a damned fool of a fashionable +woman to talk to! I tell you, Pickering, never again for me. No +more artificial duchesses. The whole thing has been simple +purgatory. + +PICKERING. You've never been broken in properly to the social +routine. [Strolling over to the piano] I rather enjoy dipping +into it occasionally myself: it makes me feel young again. +Anyhow, it was a great success: an immense success. I was quite +frightened once or twice because Eliza was doing it so well. You +see, lots of the real people can't do it at all: they're such +fools that they think style comes by nature to people in their +position; and so they never learn. There's always something +professional about doing a thing superlatively well. + +HIGGINS. Yes: that's what drives me mad: the silly people don't +know their own silly business. [Rising] However, it's over and +done with; and now I can go to bed at last without dreading +tomorrow. + +Eliza's beauty becomes murderous. + +PICKERING. I think I shall turn in too. Still, it's been a great +occasion: a triumph for you. Good-night. [He goes]. + +HIGGINS [following him] Good-night. [Over his shoulder, at the +door] Put out the lights, Eliza; and tell Mrs. Pearce not to make +coffee for me in the morning: I'll take tea. [He goes out]. + +Eliza tries to control herself and feel indifferent as she rises +and walks across to the hearth to switch off the lights. By the +time she gets there she is on the point of screaming. She sits +down in Higgins's chair and holds on hard to the arms. Finally +she gives way and flings herself furiously on the floor raging. + +HIGGINS [in despairing wrath outside] What the devil have I done +with my slippers? [He appears at the door]. + +LIZA [snatching up the slippers, and hurling them at him one +after the other with all her force] There are your slippers. And +there. Take your slippers; and may you never have a day's luck +with them! + +HIGGINS [astounded] What on earth--! [He comes to her]. What's +the matter? Get up. [He pulls her up]. Anything wrong? + +LIZA [breathless] Nothing wrong--with YOU. I've won your bet for +you, haven't I? That's enough for you. _I_ don't matter, I +suppose. + +HIGGINS. YOU won my bet! You! Presumptuous insect! _I_ won it. +What did you throw those slippers at me for? + +LIZA. Because I wanted to smash your face. I'd like to kill you, +you selfish brute. Why didn't you leave me where you picked me +out of--in the gutter? You thank God it's all over, and that now +you can throw me back again there, do you? [She crisps her +fingers, frantically]. + +HIGGINS [looking at her in cool wonder] The creature IS nervous, +after all. + +LIZA [gives a suffocated scream of fury, and instinctively darts +her nails at his face]!! + +HIGGINS [catching her wrists] Ah! would you? Claws in, you cat. +How dare you show your temper to me? Sit down and be quiet. [He +throws her roughly into the easy-chair]. + +LIZA [crushed by superior strength and weight] What's to become +of me? What's to become of me? + +HIGGINS. How the devil do I know what's to become of you? What +does it matter what becomes of you? + +LIZA. You don't care. I know you don't care. You wouldn't care if +I was dead. I'm nothing to you--not so much as them slippers. + +HIGGINS [thundering] THOSE slippers. + +LIZA [with bitter submission] Those slippers. I didn't think it +made any difference now. + +A pause. Eliza hopeless and crushed. Higgins a little uneasy. + +HIGGINS [in his loftiest manner] Why have you begun going on like +this? May I ask whether you complain of your treatment here? + +LIZA. No. + +HIGGINS. Has anybody behaved badly to you? Colonel Pickering? +Mrs. Pearce? Any of the servants? + +LIZA. No. + +HIGGINS. I presume you don't pretend that I have treated you +badly. + +LIZA. No. + +HIGGINS. I am glad to hear it. [He moderates his tone]. Perhaps +you're tired after the strain of the day. Will you have a glass +of champagne? [He moves towards the door]. + +LIZA. No. [Recollecting her manners] Thank you. + +HIGGINS [good-humored again] This has been coming on you for some +days. I suppose it was natural for you to be anxious about the +garden party. But that's all over now. [He pats her kindly on the +shoulder. She writhes]. There's nothing more to worry about. + +LIZA. No. Nothing more for you to worry about. [She suddenly +rises and gets away from him by going to the piano bench, where +she sits and hides her face]. Oh God! I wish I was dead. + +HIGGINS [staring after her in sincere surprise] Why? in heaven's +name, why? [Reasonably, going to her] Listen to me, Eliza. All +this irritation is purely subjective. + +LIZA. I don't understand. I'm too ignorant. + +HIGGINS. It's only imagination. Low spirits and nothing else. +Nobody's hurting you. Nothing's wrong. You go to bed like a good +girl and sleep it off. Have a little cry and say your prayers: +that will make you comfortable. + +LIZA. I heard YOUR prayers. "Thank God it's all over!" + +HIGGINS [impatiently] Well, don't you thank God it's all over? +Now you are free and can do what you like. + +LIZA [pulling herself together in desperation] What am I fit for? +What have you left me fit for? Where am I to go? What am I to do? +What's to become of me? + +HIGGINS [enlightened, but not at all impressed] Oh, that's what's +worrying you, is it? [He thrusts his hands into his pockets, and +walks about in his usual manner, rattling the contents of his +pockets, as if condescending to a trivial subject out of pure +kindness]. I shouldn't bother about it if I were you. I should +imagine you won't have much difficulty in settling yourself, +somewhere or other, though I hadn't quite realized that you were +going away. [She looks quickly at him: he does not look at her, +but examines the dessert stand on the piano and decides that he +will eat an apple]. You might marry, you know. [He bites a large +piece out of the apple, and munches it noisily]. You see, Eliza, +all men are not confirmed old bachelors like me and the Colonel. +Most men are the marrying sort (poor devils!); and you're not +bad-looking; it's quite a pleasure to look at you sometimes--not +now, of course, because you're crying and looking as ugly as the +very devil; but when you're all right and quite yourself, you're +what I should call attractive. That is, to the people in the +marrying line, you understand. You go to bed and have a good nice +rest; and then get up and look at yourself in the glass; and you +won't feel so cheap. + +Eliza again looks at him, speechless, and does not stir. + +The look is quite lost on him: he eats his apple with a dreamy +expression of happiness, as it is quite a good one. + +HIGGINS [a genial afterthought occurring to him] I daresay my +mother could find some chap or other who would do very well-- + +LIZA. We were above that at the corner of Tottenham Court Road. + +HIGGINS [waking up] What do you mean? + +LIZA. I sold flowers. I didn't sell myself. Now you've made a +lady of me I'm not fit to sell anything else. I wish you'd left +me where you found me. + +HIGGINS [slinging the core of the apple decisively into the +grate] Tosh, Eliza. Don't you insult human relations by dragging +all this cant about buying and selling into it. You needn't marry +the fellow if you don't like him. + +LIZA. What else am I to do? + +HIGGINS. Oh, lots of things. What about your old idea of a +florist's shop? Pickering could set you up in one: he's lots of +money. [Chuckling] He'll have to pay for all those togs you have +been wearing today; and that, with the hire of the jewellery, +will make a big hole in two hundred pounds. Why, six months ago +you would have thought it the millennium to have a flower shop of +your own. Come! you'll be all right. I must clear off to bed: I'm +devilish sleepy. By the way, I came down for something: I forget +what it was. + +LIZA. Your slippers. + +HIGGINS. Oh yes, of course. You shied them at me. [He picks them +up, and is going out when she rises and speaks to him]. + +LIZA. Before you go, sir-- + +HIGGINS [dropping the slippers in his surprise at her calling him +sir] Eh? + +LIZA. Do my clothes belong to me or to Colonel Pickering? + +HIGGINS [coming back into the room as if her question were the +very climax of unreason] What the devil use would they be to +Pickering? + +LIZA. He might want them for the next girl you pick up to +experiment on. + +HIGGINS [shocked and hurt] Is THAT the way you feel towards us? + +LIZA. I don't want to hear anything more about that. All I want +to know is whether anything belongs to me. My own clothes were +burnt. + +HIGGINS. But what does it matter? Why need you start bothering +about that in the middle of the night? + +LIZA. I want to know what I may take away with me. I don't want +to be accused of stealing. + +HIGGINS [now deeply wounded] Stealing! You shouldn't have said +that, Eliza. That shows a want of feeling. + +LIZA. I'm sorry. I'm only a common ignorant girl; and in my +station I have to be careful. There can't be any feelings between +the like of you and the like of me. Please will you tell me what +belongs to me and what doesn't? + +HIGGINS [very sulky] You may take the whole damned houseful if +you like. Except the jewels. They're hired. Will that satisfy +you? [He turns on his heel and is about to go in extreme +dudgeon]. + +LIZA [drinking in his emotion like nectar, and nagging him to +provoke a further supply] Stop, please. [She takes off her +jewels]. Will you take these to your room and keep them safe? I +don't want to run the risk of their being missing. + +HIGGINS [furious] Hand them over. [She puts them into his hands]. +If these belonged to me instead of to the jeweler, I'd ram them +down your ungrateful throat. [He perfunctorily thrusts them into +his pockets, unconsciously decorating himself with the protruding +ends of the chains]. + +LIZA [taking a ring off] This ring isn't the jeweler's: it's the +one you bought me in Brighton. I don't want it now. [Higgins +dashes the ring violently into the fireplace, and turns on her so +threateningly that she crouches over the piano with her hands +over her face, and exclaims] Don't you hit me. + +HIGGINS. Hit you! You infamous creature, how dare you accuse me +of such a thing? It is you who have hit me. You have wounded me +to the heart. + +LIZA [thrilling with hidden joy] I'm glad. I've got a little of +my own back, anyhow. + +HIGGINS [with dignity, in his finest professional style] You have +caused me to lose my temper: a thing that has hardly ever happened +to me before. I prefer to say nothing more tonight. I am going to +bed. + +LIZA [pertly] You'd better leave a note for Mrs. Pearce about the +coffee; for she won't be told by me. + +HIGGINS [formally] Damn Mrs. Pearce; and damn the coffee; and +damn you; and damn my own folly in having lavished MY hard-earned +knowledge and the treasure of my regard and intimacy on a +heartless guttersnipe. [He goes out with impressive decorum, and +spoils it by slamming the door savagely]. + +Eliza smiles for the first time; expresses her feelings by a wild +pantomime in which an imitation of Higgins's exit is confused +with her own triumph; and finally goes down on her knees on the +hearthrug to look for the ring. + + + + +ACT V + +Mrs. Higgins's drawing-room. She is at her writing-table as +before. The parlor-maid comes in. + +THE PARLOR-MAID [at the door] Mr. Henry, mam, is downstairs with +Colonel Pickering. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Well, show them up. + +THE PARLOR-MAID. They're using the telephone, mam. Telephoning to +the police, I think. + +MRS. HIGGINS. What! + +THE PARLOR-MAID [coming further in and lowering her voice] Mr. +Henry's in a state, mam. I thought I'd better tell you. + +MRS. HIGGINS. If you had told me that Mr. Henry was not in a +state it would have been more surprising. Tell them to come up +when they've finished with the police. I suppose he's lost +something. + +THE PARLOR-MAID. Yes, mam [going]. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Go upstairs and tell Miss Doolittle that Mr. Henry +and the Colonel are here. Ask her not to come down till I send +for her. + +THE PARLOR-MAID. Yes, mam. + +Higgins bursts in. He is, as the parlor-maid has said, in a +state. + +HIGGINS. Look here, mother: here's a confounded thing! + +MRS. HIGGINS. Yes, dear. Good-morning. [He checks his impatience +and kisses her, whilst the parlor-maid goes out]. What is it? + +HIGGINS. Eliza's bolted. + +MRS. HIGGINS [calmly continuing her writing] You must have +frightened her. + +HIGGINS. Frightened her! nonsense! She was left last night, as +usual, to turn out the lights and all that; and instead of going +to bed she changed her clothes and went right off: her bed wasn't +slept in. She came in a cab for her things before seven this +morning; and that fool Mrs. Pearce let her have them without +telling me a word about it. What am I to do? + +MRS. HIGGINS. Do without, I'm afraid, Henry. The girl has a +perfect right to leave if she chooses. + +HIGGINS [wandering distractedly across the room] But I can't find +anything. I don't know what appointments I've got. I'm-- +[Pickering comes in. Mrs. Higgins puts down her pen and turns +away from the writing-table]. + +PICKERING [shaking hands] Good-morning, Mrs. Higgins. Has Henry +told you? [He sits down on the ottoman]. + +HIGGINS. What does that ass of an inspector say? Have you offered +a reward? + +MRS. HIGGINS [rising in indignant amazement] You don't mean to +say you have set the police after Eliza? + +HIGGINS. Of course. What are the police for? What else could we +do? [He sits in the Elizabethan chair]. + +PICKERING. The inspector made a lot of difficulties. I really +think he suspected us of some improper purpose. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Well, of course he did. What right have you to go +to the police and give the girl's name as if she were a thief, or +a lost umbrella, or something? Really! [She sits down again, +deeply vexed]. + +HIGGINS. But we want to find her. + +PICKERING. We can't let her go like this, you know, Mrs. Higgins. +What were we to do? + +MRS. HIGGINS. You have no more sense, either of you, than two +children. Why-- + +The parlor-maid comes in and breaks off the conversation. + +THE PARLOR-MAID. Mr. Henry: a gentleman wants to see you very +particular. He's been sent on from Wimpole Street. + +HIGGINS. Oh, bother! I can't see anyone now. Who is it? + +THE PARLOR-MAID. A Mr. Doolittle, Sir. + +PICKERING. Doolittle! Do you mean the dustman? + +THE PARLOR-MAID. Dustman! Oh no, sir: a gentleman. + +HIGGINS [springing up excitedly] By George, Pick, it's some +relative of hers that she's gone to. Somebody we know nothing +about. [To the parlor-maid] Send him up, quick. + +THE PARLOR-MAID. Yes, Sir. [She goes]. + +HIGGINS [eagerly, going to his mother] Genteel relatives! now we +shall hear something. [He sits down in the Chippendale chair]. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Do you know any of her people? + +PICKERING. Only her father: the fellow we told you about. + +THE PARLOR-MAID [announcing] Mr. Doolittle. [She withdraws]. + +Doolittle enters. He is brilliantly dressed in a new fashionable +frock-coat, with white waistcoat and grey trousers. A flower in +his buttonhole, a dazzling silk hat, and patent leather shoes +complete the effect. He is too concerned with the business he has +come on to notice Mrs. Higgins. He walks straight to Higgins, and +accosts him with vehement reproach. + +DOOLITTLE [indicating his own person] See here! Do you see this? +You done this. + +HIGGINS. Done what, man? + +DOOLITTLE. This, I tell you. Look at it. Look at this hat. Look +at this coat. + +PICKERING. Has Eliza been buying you clothes? + +DOOLITTLE. Eliza! not she. Not half. Why would she buy me +clothes? + +MRS. HIGGINS. Good-morning, Mr. Doolittle. Won't you sit down? + +DOOLITTLE [taken aback as he becomes conscious that he has +forgotten his hostess] Asking your pardon, ma'am. [He approaches +her and shakes her proffered hand]. Thank you. [He sits down on +the ottoman, on Pickering's right]. I am that full of what has +happened to me that I can't think of anything else. + +HIGGINS. What the dickens has happened to you? + +DOOLITTLE. I shouldn't mind if it had only happened to me: +anything might happen to anybody and nobody to blame but +Providence, as you might say. But this is something that you done +to me: yes, you, Henry Higgins. + +HIGGINS. Have you found Eliza? That's the point. + +DOOLITTLE. Have you lost her? + +HIGGINS. Yes. + +DOOLITTLE. You have all the luck, you have. I ain't found her; +but she'll find me quick enough now after what you done to me. + +MRS. HIGGINS. But what has my son done to you, Mr. Doolittle? + +DOOLITTLE. Done to me! Ruined me. Destroyed my happiness. Tied me +up and delivered me into the hands of middle class morality. + +HIGGINS [rising intolerantly and standing over Doolittle] You're +raving. You're drunk. You're mad. I gave you five pounds. After +that I had two conversations with you, at half-a-crown an hour. +I've never seen you since. + +DOOLITTLE. Oh! Drunk! am I? Mad! am I? Tell me this. Did you or +did you not write a letter to an old blighter in America that was +giving five millions to found Moral Reform Societies all over the +world, and that wanted you to invent a universal language for +him? + +HIGGINS. What! Ezra D. Wannafeller! He's dead. [He sits down +again carelessly]. + +DOOLITTLE. Yes: he's dead; and I'm done for. Now did you or did +you not write a letter to him to say that the most original +moralist at present in England, to the best of your knowledge, +was Alfred Doolittle, a common dustman. + +HIGGINS. Oh, after your last visit I remember making some silly +joke of the kind. + +DOOLITTLE. Ah! you may well call it a silly joke. It put the lid +on me right enough. Just give him the chance he wanted to show +that Americans is not like us: that they recognize and respect +merit in every class of life, however humble. Them words is in +his blooming will, in which, Henry Higgins, thanks to your silly +joking, he leaves me a share in his Pre-digested Cheese Trust +worth three thousand a year on condition that I lecture for his +Wannafeller Moral Reform World League as often as they ask me up +to six times a year. + +HIGGINS. The devil he does! Whew! [Brightening suddenly] What a +lark! + +PICKERING. A safe thing for you, Doolittle. They won't ask you +twice. + +DOOLITTLE. It ain't the lecturing I mind. I'll lecture them blue +in the face, I will, and not turn a hair. It's making a gentleman +of me that I object to. Who asked him to make a gentleman of me? +I was happy. I was free. I touched pretty nigh everybody for +money when I wanted it, same as I touched you, Henry Higgins. Now +I am worrited; tied neck and heels; and everybody touches me for +money. It's a fine thing for you, says my solicitor. Is it? says +I. You mean it's a good thing for you, I says. When I was a poor +man and had a solicitor once when they found a pram in the dust +cart, he got me off, and got shut of me and got me shut of him as +quick as he could. Same with the doctors: used to shove me out of +the hospital before I could hardly stand on my legs, and nothing +to pay. Now they finds out that I'm not a healthy man and can't +live unless they looks after me twice a day. In the house I'm not +let do a hand's turn for myself: somebody else must do it and +touch me for it. A year ago I hadn't a relative in the world +except two or three that wouldn't speak to me. Now I've fifty, and +not a decent week's wages among the lot of them. I have to live +for others and not for myself: that's middle class morality. You +talk of losing Eliza. Don't you be anxious: I bet she's on my +doorstep by this: she that could support herself easy by selling +flowers if I wasn't respectable. And the next one to touch me +will be you, Henry Higgins. I'll have to learn to speak middle +class language from you, instead of speaking proper English. +That's where you'll come in; and I daresay that's what you done +it for. + +MRS. HIGGINS. But, my dear Mr. Doolittle, you need not suffer all +this if you are really in earnest. Nobody can force you to accept +this bequest. You can repudiate it. Isn't that so, Colonel +Pickering? + +PICKERING. I believe so. + +DOOLITTLE [softening his manner in deference to her sex] That's +the tragedy of it, ma'am. It's easy to say chuck it; but I +haven't the nerve. Which one of us has? We're all intimidated. +Intimidated, ma'am: that's what we are. What is there for me if I +chuck it but the workhouse in my old age? I have to dye my hair +already to keep my job as a dustman. If I was one of the +deserving poor, and had put by a bit, I could chuck it; but then +why should I, acause the deserving poor might as well be +millionaires for all the happiness they ever has. They don't know +what happiness is. But I, as one of the undeserving poor, have +nothing between me and the pauper's uniform but this here blasted +three thousand a year that shoves me into the middle class. +(Excuse the expression, ma'am: you'd use it yourself if you had +my provocation). They've got you every way you turn: it's a +choice between the Skilly of the workhouse and the Char Bydis of +the middle class; and I haven't the nerve for the workhouse. +Intimidated: that's what I am. Broke. Bought up. Happier men than +me will call for my dust, and touch me for their tip; and I'll +look on helpless, and envy them. And that's what your son has +brought me to. [He is overcome by emotion]. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Well, I'm very glad you're not going to do anything +foolish, Mr. Doolittle. For this solves the problem of Eliza's +future. You can provide for her now. + +DOOLITTLE [with melancholy resignation] Yes, ma'am; I'm expected +to provide for everyone now, out of three thousand a year. + +HIGGINS [jumping up] Nonsense! he can't provide for her. He +shan't provide for her. She doesn't belong to him. I paid him +five pounds for her. Doolittle: either you're an honest man or a +rogue. + +DOOLITTLE [tolerantly] A little of both, Henry, like the rest of +us: a little of both. + +HIGGINS. Well, you took that money for the girl; and you have no +right to take her as well. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Henry: don't be absurd. If you really want to know +where Eliza is, she is upstairs. + +HIGGINS [amazed] Upstairs!!! Then I shall jolly soon fetch her +downstairs. [He makes resolutely for the door]. + +MRS. HIGGINS [rising and following him] Be quiet, Henry. Sit +down. + +HIGGINS. I-- + +MRS. HIGGINS. Sit down, dear; and listen to me. + +HIGGINS. Oh very well, very well, very well. [He throws himself +ungraciously on the ottoman, with his face towards the windows]. +But I think you might have told me this half an hour ago. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Eliza came to me this morning. She passed the night +partly walking about in a rage, partly trying to throw herself +into the river and being afraid to, and partly in the Carlton +Hotel. She told me of the brutal way you two treated her. + +HIGGINS [bounding up again] What! + +PICKERING [rising also] My dear Mrs. Higgins, she's been telling +you stories. We didn't treat her brutally. We hardly said a word +to her; and we parted on particularly good terms. [Turning on +Higgins]. Higgins did you bully her after I went to bed? + +HIGGINS. Just the other way about. She threw my slippers in my +face. She behaved in the most outrageous way. I never gave her +the slightest provocation. The slippers came bang into my face +the moment I entered the room--before I had uttered a word. And +used perfectly awful language. + +PICKERING [astonished] But why? What did we do to her? + +MRS. HIGGINS. I think I know pretty well what you did. The girl +is naturally rather affectionate, I think. Isn't she, Mr. +Doolittle? + +DOOLITTLE. Very tender-hearted, ma'am. Takes after me. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Just so. She had become attached to you both. She +worked very hard for you, Henry! I don't think you quite realize +what anything in the nature of brain work means to a girl like +that. Well, it seems that when the great day of trial came, and +she did this wonderful thing for you without making a single +mistake, you two sat there and never said a word to her, but +talked together of how glad you were that it was all over and how +you had been bored with the whole thing. And then you were +surprised because she threw your slippers at you! _I_ should have +thrown the fire-irons at you. + +HIGGINS. We said nothing except that we were tired and wanted to +go to bed. Did we, Pick? + +PICKERING [shrugging his shoulders] That was all. + +MRS. HIGGINS [ironically] Quite sure? + +PICKERING. Absolutely. Really, that was all. + +MRS. HIGGINS. You didn't thank her, or pet her, or admire her, or +tell her how splendid she'd been. + +HIGGINS [impatiently] But she knew all about that. We didn't make +speeches to her, if that's what you mean. + +PICKERING [conscience stricken] Perhaps we were a little +inconsiderate. Is she very angry? + +MRS. HIGGINS [returning to her place at the writing-table] Well, +I'm afraid she won't go back to Wimpole Street, especially now +that Mr. Doolittle is able to keep up the position you have +thrust on her; but she says she is quite willing to meet you on +friendly terms and to let bygones be bygones. + +HIGGINS [furious] Is she, by George? Ho! + +MRS. HIGGINS. If you promise to behave yourself, Henry, I'll ask +her to come down. If not, go home; for you have taken up quite +enough of my time. + +HIGGINS. Oh, all right. Very well. Pick: you behave yourself. Let +us put on our best Sunday manners for this creature that we +picked out of the mud. [He flings himself sulkily into the +Elizabethan chair]. + +DOOLITTLE [remonstrating] Now, now, Henry Higgins! have some +consideration for my feelings as a middle class man. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Remember your promise, Henry. [She presses the +bell-button on the writing-table]. Mr. Doolittle: will you be so +good as to step out on the balcony for a moment. I don't want +Eliza to have the shock of your news until she has made it up +with these two gentlemen. Would you mind? + +DOOLITTLE. As you wish, lady. Anything to help Henry to keep her +off my hands. [He disappears through the window]. + +The parlor-maid answers the bell. Pickering sits down in +Doolittle's place. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Ask Miss Doolittle to come down, please. + +THE PARLOR-MAID. Yes, mam. [She goes out]. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Now, Henry: be good. + +HIGGINS. I am behaving myself perfectly. + +PICKERING. He is doing his best, Mrs. Higgins. + +A pause. Higgins throws back his head; stretches out his legs; +and begins to whistle. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Henry, dearest, you don't look at all nice in that +attitude. + +HIGGINS [pulling himself together] I was not trying to look nice, +mother. + +MRS. HIGGINS. It doesn't matter, dear. I only wanted to make you +speak. + +HIGGINS. Why? + +MRS. HIGGINS. Because you can't speak and whistle at the same +time. + +Higgins groans. Another very trying pause. + +HIGGINS [springing up, out of patience] Where the devil is that +girl? Are we to wait here all day? + +Eliza enters, sunny, self-possessed, and giving a staggeringly +convincing exhibition of ease of manner. She carries a little +work-basket, and is very much at home. Pickering is too much +taken aback to rise. + +LIZA. How do you do, Professor Higgins? Are you quite well? + +HIGGINS [choking] Am I-- [He can say no more]. + +LIZA. But of course you are: you are never ill. So glad to see +you again, Colonel Pickering. [He rises hastily; and they shake +hands]. Quite chilly this morning, isn't it? [She sits down on +his left. He sits beside her]. + +HIGGINS. Don't you dare try this game on me. I taught it to you; +and it doesn't take me in. Get up and come home; and don't be a +fool. + +Eliza takes a piece of needlework from her basket, and begins to +stitch at it, without taking the least notice of this outburst. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Very nicely put, indeed, Henry. No woman could +resist such an invitation. + +HIGGINS. You let her alone, mother. Let her speak for herself. +You will jolly soon see whether she has an idea that I haven't +put into her head or a word that I haven't put into her mouth. I +tell you I have created this thing out of the squashed cabbage +leaves of Covent Garden; and now she pretends to play the fine +lady with me. + +MRS. HIGGINS [placidly] Yes, dear; but you'll sit down, won't +you? + +Higgins sits down again, savagely. + +LIZA [to Pickering, taking no apparent notice of Higgins, and +working away deftly] Will you drop me altogether now that the +experiment is over, Colonel Pickering? + +PICKERING. Oh don't. You mustn't think of it as an experiment. It +shocks me, somehow. + +LIZA. Oh, I'm only a squashed cabbage leaf. + +PICKERING [impulsively] No. + +LIZA [continuing quietly]--but I owe so much to you that I should +be very unhappy if you forgot me. + +PICKERING. It's very kind of you to say so, Miss Doolittle. + +LIZA. It's not because you paid for my dresses. I know you are +generous to everybody with money. But it was from you that I +learnt really nice manners; and that is what makes one a lady, +isn't it? You see it was so very difficult for me with the +example of Professor Higgins always before me. I was brought up +to be just like him, unable to control myself, and using bad +language on the slightest provocation. And I should never have +known that ladies and gentlemen didn't behave like that if you +hadn't been there. + +HIGGINS. Well!! + +PICKERING. Oh, that's only his way, you know. He doesn't mean it. + +LIZA. Oh, I didn't mean it either, when I was a flower girl. It +was only my way. But you see I did it; and that's what makes the +difference after all. + +PICKERING. No doubt. Still, he taught you to speak; and I +couldn't have done that, you know. + +LIZA [trivially] Of course: that is his profession. + +HIGGINS. Damnation! + +LIZA [continuing] It was just like learning to dance in the +fashionable way: there was nothing more than that in it. But do +you know what began my real education? + +PICKERING. What? + +LIZA [stopping her work for a moment] Your calling me Miss +Doolittle that day when I first came to Wimpole Street. That was +the beginning of self-respect for me. [She resumes her +stitching]. And there were a hundred little things you never +noticed, because they came naturally to you. Things about +standing up and taking off your hat and opening doors-- + +PICKERING. Oh, that was nothing. + +LIZA. Yes: things that showed you thought and felt about me as if +I were something better than a scullerymaid; though of course I +know you would have been just the same to a scullery-maid if she +had been let in the drawing-room. You never took off your boots +in the dining room when I was there. + +PICKERING. You mustn't mind that. Higgins takes off his boots all +over the place. + +LIZA. I know. I am not blaming him. It is his way, isn't it? But +it made such a difference to me that you didn't do it. You see, +really and truly, apart from the things anyone can pick up (the +dressing and the proper way of speaking, and so on), the +difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she +behaves, but how she's treated. I shall always be a flower girl +to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me as a flower +girl, and always will; but I know I can be a lady to you, because +you always treat me as a lady, and always will. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Please don't grind your teeth, Henry. + +PICKERING. Well, this is really very nice of you, Miss Doolittle. + +LIZA. I should like you to call me Eliza, now, if you would. + +PICKERING. Thank you. Eliza, of course. + +LIZA. And I should like Professor Higgins to call me Miss +Doolittle. + +HIGGINS. I'll see you damned first. + +MRS. HIGGINS. Henry! Henry! + +PICKERING [laughing] Why don't you slang back at him? Don't stand +it. It would do him a lot of good. + +LIZA. I can't. I could have done it once; but now I can't go back +to it. Last night, when I was wandering about, a girl spoke to +me; and I tried to get back into the old way with her; but it was +no use. You told me, you know, that when a child is brought to a +foreign country, it picks up the language in a few weeks, and +forgets its own. Well, I am a child in your country. I have +forgotten my own language, and can speak nothing but yours. +That's the real break-off with the corner of Tottenham Court +Road. Leaving Wimpole Street finishes it. + +PICKERING [much alarmed] Oh! but you're coming back to Wimpole +Street, aren't you? You'll forgive Higgins? + +HIGGINS [rising] Forgive! Will she, by George! Let her go. Let +her find out how she can get on without us. She will relapse into +the gutter in three weeks without me at her elbow. + +Doolittle appears at the centre window. With a look of dignified +reproach at Higgins, he comes slowly and silently to his +daughter, who, with her back to the window, is unconscious of his +approach. + +PICKERING. He's incorrigible, Eliza. You won't relapse, will you? + +LIZA. No: Not now. Never again. I have learnt my lesson. I don't +believe I could utter one of the old sounds if I tried. +[Doolittle touches her on her left shoulder. She drops her work, +losing her self-possession utterly at the spectacle of her +father's splendor] A--a--a--a--a--ah--ow--ooh! + +HIGGINS [with a crow of triumph] Aha! Just so. A--a--a--a-- +ahowooh! A--a--a--a--ahowooh ! A--a--a--a--ahowooh! Victory! +Victory! [He throws himself on the divan, folding his arms, and +spraddling arrogantly]. + +DOOLITTLE. Can you blame the girl? Don't look at me like that, +Eliza. It ain't my fault. I've come into money. + +LIZA. You must have touched a millionaire this time, dad. + +DOOLITTLE. I have. But I'm dressed something special today. I'm +going to St. George's, Hanover Square. Your stepmother is going +to marry me. + +LIZA [angrily] You're going to let yourself down to marry that +low common woman! + +PICKERING [quietly] He ought to, Eliza. [To Doolittle] Why has +she changed her mind? + +DOOLITTLE [sadly] Intimidated, Governor. Intimidated. Middle +class morality claims its victim. Won't you put on your hat, +Liza, and come and see me turned off? + +LIZA. If the Colonel says I must, I--I'll [almost sobbing] I'll +demean myself. And get insulted for my pains, like enough. + +DOOLITTLE. Don't be afraid: she never comes to words with anyone +now, poor woman! respectability has broke all the spirit out of +her. + +PICKERING [squeezing Eliza's elbow gently] Be kind to them, +Eliza. Make the best of it. + +LIZA [forcing a little smile for him through her vexation] Oh +well, just to show there's no ill feeling. I'll be back in a +moment. [She goes out]. + +DOOLITTLE [sitting down beside Pickering] I feel uncommon nervous +about the ceremony, Colonel. I wish you'd come and see me through +it. + +PICKERING. But you've been through it before, man. You were +married to Eliza's mother. + +DOOLITTLE. Who told you that, Colonel? + +PICKERING. Well, nobody told me. But I concluded naturally-- + +DOOLITTLE. No: that ain't the natural way, Colonel: it's only the +middle class way. My way was always the undeserving way. But +don't say nothing to Eliza. She don't know: I always had a +delicacy about telling her. + +PICKERING. Quite right. We'll leave it so, if you don't mind. + +DOOLITTLE. And you'll come to the church, Colonel, and put me +through straight? + +PICKERING. With pleasure. As far as a bachelor can. + +MRS. HIGGINS. May I come, Mr. Doolittle? I should be very sorry +to miss your wedding. + +DOOLITTLE. I should indeed be honored by your condescension, +ma'am; and my poor old woman would take it as a tremenjous +compliment. She's been very low, thinking of the happy days that +are no more. + +MRS. HIGGINS [rising] I'll order the carriage and get ready. [The +men rise, except Higgins]. I shan't be more than fifteen minutes. +[As she goes to the door Eliza comes in, hatted and buttoning her +gloves]. I'm going to the church to see your father married, +Eliza. You had better come in the brougham with me. Colonel +Pickering can go on with the bridegroom. + +Mrs. Higgins goes out. Eliza comes to the middle of the room +between the centre window and the ottoman. Pickering joins her. + +DOOLITTLE. Bridegroom! What a word! It makes a man realize his +position, somehow. [He takes up his hat and goes towards the +door]. + +PICKERING. Before I go, Eliza, do forgive him and come back to +us. + +LIZA. I don't think papa would allow me. Would you, dad? + +DOOLITTLE [sad but magnanimous] They played you off very cunning, +Eliza, them two sportsmen. If it had been only one of them, you +could have nailed him. But you see, there was two; and one of +them chaperoned the other, as you might say. [To Pickering] It +was artful of you, Colonel; but I bear no malice: I should have +done the same myself. I been the victim of one woman after +another all my life; and I don't grudge you two getting the +better of Eliza. I shan't interfere. It's time for us to go, +Colonel. So long, Henry. See you in St. George's, Eliza. [He goes +out]. + +PICKERING [coaxing] Do stay with us, Eliza. [He follows +Doolittle]. + +Eliza goes out on the balcony to avoid being alone with Higgins. +He rises and joins her there. She immediately comes back into the +room and makes for the door; but he goes along the balcony +quickly and gets his back to the door before she reaches it. + +HIGGINS. Well, Eliza, you've had a bit of your own back, as you +call it. Have you had enough? and are you going to be reasonable? +Or do you want any more? + +LIZA. You want me back only to pick up your slippers and put up +with your tempers and fetch and carry for you. + +HIGGINS. I haven't said I wanted you back at all. + +LIZA. Oh, indeed. Then what are we talking about? + +HIGGINS. About you, not about me. If you come back I shall treat +you just as I have always treated you. I can't change my nature; +and I don't intend to change my manners. My manners are exactly +the same as Colonel Pickering's. + +LIZA. That's not true. He treats a flower girl as if she was a +duchess. + +HIGGINS. And I treat a duchess as if she was a flower girl. + +LIZA. I see. [She turns away composedly, and sits on the ottoman, +facing the window]. The same to everybody. + +HIGGINS. Just so. + +LIZA. Like father. + +HIGGINS [grinning, a little taken down] Without accepting the +comparison at all points, Eliza, it's quite true that your father +is not a snob, and that he will be quite at home in any station +of life to which his eccentric destiny may call him. [Seriously] +The great secret, Eliza, is not having bad manners or good +manners or any other particular sort of manners, but having the +same manner for all human souls: in short, behaving as if you +were in Heaven, where there are no third-class carriages, and one +soul is as good as another. + +LIZA. Amen. You are a born preacher. + +HIGGINS [irritated] The question is not whether I treat you +rudely, but whether you ever heard me treat anyone else better. + +LIZA [with sudden sincerity] I don't care how you treat me. I +don't mind your swearing at me. I don't mind a black eye: I've +had one before this. But [standing up and facing him] I won't be +passed over. + +HIGGINS. Then get out of my way; for I won't stop for you. You +talk about me as if I were a motor bus. + +LIZA. So you are a motor bus: all bounce and go, and no +consideration for anyone. But I can do without you: don't think I +can't. + +HIGGINS. I know you can. I told you you could. + +LIZA [wounded, getting away from him to the other side of the +ottoman with her face to the hearth] I know you did, you brute. +You wanted to get rid of me. + +HIGGINS. Liar. + +LIZA. Thank you. [She sits down with dignity]. + +HIGGINS. You never asked yourself, I suppose, whether I could do +without YOU. + +LIZA [earnestly] Don't you try to get round me. You'll HAVE to do +without me. + +HIGGINS [arrogant] I can do without anybody. I have my own soul: +my own spark of divine fire. But [with sudden humility] I shall +miss you, Eliza. [He sits down near her on the ottoman]. I have +learnt something from your idiotic notions: I confess that humbly +and gratefully. And I have grown accustomed to your voice and +appearance. I like them, rather. + +LIZA. Well, you have both of them on your gramophone and in your +book of photographs. When you feel lonely without me, you can +turn the machine on. It's got no feelings to hurt. + +HIGGINS. I can't turn your soul on. Leave me those feelings; and +you can take away the voice and the face. They are not you. + +LIZA. Oh, you ARE a devil. You can twist the heart in a girl as +easy as some could twist her arms to hurt her. Mrs. Pearce warned +me. Time and again she has wanted to leave you; and you always +got round her at the last minute. And you don't care a bit for +her. And you don't care a bit for me. + +HIGGINS. I care for life, for humanity; and you are a part of it +that has come my way and been built into my house. What more can +you or anyone ask? + +LIZA. I won't care for anybody that doesn't care for me. + +HIGGINS. Commercial principles, Eliza. Like [reproducing her +Covent Garden pronunciation with professional exactness] s'yollin +voylets [selling violets], isn't it? + +LIZA. Don't sneer at me. It's mean to sneer at me. + +HIGGINS. I have never sneered in my life. Sneering doesn't become +either the human face or the human soul. I am expressing my +righteous contempt for Commercialism. I don't and won't trade in +affection. You call me a brute because you couldn't buy a claim +on me by fetching my slippers and finding my spectacles. You were +a fool: I think a woman fetching a man's slippers is a disgusting +sight: did I ever fetch YOUR slippers? I think a good deal more +of you for throwing them in my face. No use slaving for me and +then saying you want to be cared for: who cares for a slave? If +you come back, come back for the sake of good fellowship; for +you'll get nothing else. You've had a thousand times as much out +of me as I have out of you; and if you dare to set up your little +dog's tricks of fetching and carrying slippers against my +creation of a Duchess Eliza, I'll slam the door in your silly +face. + +LIZA. What did you do it for if you didn't care for me? + +HIGGINS [heartily] Why, because it was my job. + +LIZA. You never thought of the trouble it would make for me. + +HIGGINS. Would the world ever have been made if its maker had +been afraid of making trouble? Making life means making trouble. +There's only one way of escaping trouble; and that's killing +things. Cowards, you notice, are always shrieking to have +troublesome people killed. + +LIZA. I'm no preacher: I don't notice things like that. I notice +that you don't notice me. + +HIGGINS [jumping up and walking about intolerantly] Eliza: you're +an idiot. I waste the treasures of my Miltonic mind by spreading +them before you. Once for all, understand that I go my way and do +my work without caring twopence what happens to either of us. I am +not intimidated, like your father and your stepmother. So you can +come back or go to the devil: which you please. + +LIZA. What am I to come back for? + +HIGGINS [bouncing up on his knees on the ottoman and leaning over +it to her] For the fun of it. That's why I took you on. + +LIZA [with averted face] And you may throw me out tomorrow if I +don't do everything you want me to? + +HIGGINS. Yes; and you may walk out tomorrow if I don't do +everything YOU want me to. + +LIZA. And live with my stepmother? + +HIGGINS. Yes, or sell flowers. + +LIZA. Oh! if I only COULD go back to my flower basket! I should +be independent of both you and father and all the world! Why did +you take my independence from me? Why did I give it up? I'm a +slave now, for all my fine clothes. + +HIGGINS. Not a bit. I'll adopt you as my daughter and settle +money on you if you like. Or would you rather marry Pickering? + +LIZA [looking fiercely round at him] I wouldn't marry YOU if you +asked me; and you're nearer my age than what he is. + +HIGGINS [gently] Than he is: not "than what he is." + +LIZA [losing her temper and rising] I'll talk as I like. You're +not my teacher now. + +HIGGINS [reflectively] I don't suppose Pickering would, though. +He's as confirmed an old bachelor as I am. + +LIZA. That's not what I want; and don't you think it. I've always +had chaps enough wanting me that way. Freddy Hill writes to me +twice and three times a day, sheets and sheets. + +HIGGINS [disagreeably surprised] Damn his impudence! [He recoils +and finds himself sitting on his heels]. + +LIZA. He has a right to if he likes, poor lad. And he does love +me. + +HIGGINS [getting off the ottoman] You have no right to encourage +him. + +LIZA. Every girl has a right to be loved. + +HIGGINS. What! By fools like that? + +LIZA. Freddy's not a fool. And if he's weak and poor and wants +me, may be he'd make me happier than my betters that bully me and +don't want me. + +HIGGINS. Can he MAKE anything of you? That's the point. + +LIZA. Perhaps I could make something of him. But I never thought +of us making anything of one another; and you never think of +anything else. I only want to be natural. + +HIGGINS. In short, you want me to be as infatuated about you as +Freddy? Is that it? + +LIZA. No I don't. That's not the sort of feeling I want from you. +And don't you be too sure of yourself or of me. I could have been +a bad girl if I'd liked. I've seen more of some things than you, +for all your learning. Girls like me can drag gentlemen down to +make love to them easy enough. And they wish each other dead the +next minute. + +HIGGINS. Of course they do. Then what in thunder are we +quarrelling about? + +LIZA [much troubled] I want a little kindness. I know I'm a +common ignorant girl, and you a book-learned gentleman; but I'm +not dirt under your feet. What I done [correcting herself] what I +did was not for the dresses and the taxis: I did it because we +were pleasant together and I come--came--to care for you; not to +want you to make love to me, and not forgetting the difference +between us, but more friendly like. + +HIGGINS. Well, of course. That's just how I feel. And how +Pickering feels. Eliza: you're a fool. + +LIZA. That's not a proper answer to give me [she sinks on the +chair at the writing-table in tears]. + +HIGGINS. It's all you'll get until you stop being a common idiot. +If you're going to be a lady, you'll have to give up feeling +neglected if the men you know don't spend half their time +snivelling over you and the other half giving you black eyes. If +you can't stand the coldness of my sort of life, and the strain +of it, go back to the gutter. Work til you are more a brute than +a human being; and then cuddle and squabble and drink til you +fall asleep. Oh, it's a fine life, the life of the gutter. It's +real: it's warm: it's violent: you can feel it through the +thickest skin: you can taste it and smell it without any training +or any work. Not like Science and Literature and Classical Music +and Philosophy and Art. You find me cold, unfeeling, selfish, +don't you? Very well: be off with you to the sort of people you +like. Marry some sentimental hog or other with lots of money, and +a thick pair of lips to kiss you with and a thick pair of boots +to kick you with. If you can't appreciate what you've got, you'd +better get what you can appreciate. + +LIZA [desperate] Oh, you are a cruel tyrant. I can't talk to you: +you turn everything against me: I'm always in the wrong. But you +know very well all the time that you're nothing but a bully. You +know I can't go back to the gutter, as you call it, and that I +have no real friends in the world but you and the Colonel. You +know well I couldn't bear to live with a low common man after you +two; and it's wicked and cruel of you to insult me by pretending +I could. You think I must go back to Wimpole Street because I +have nowhere else to go but father's. But don't you be too sure +that you have me under your feet to be trampled on and talked +down. I'll marry Freddy, I will, as soon as he's able to support +me. + +HIGGINS [sitting down beside her] Rubbish! you shall marry an +ambassador. You shall marry the Governor-General of India or the +Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, or somebody who wants a deputy-queen. +I'm not going to have my masterpiece thrown away on Freddy. + +LIZA. You think I like you to say that. But I haven't forgot what +you said a minute ago; and I won't be coaxed round as if I was a +baby or a puppy. If I can't have kindness, I'll have +independence. + +HIGGINS. Independence? That's middle class blasphemy. We are all +dependent on one another, every soul of us on earth. + +LIZA [rising determinedly] I'll let you see whether I'm dependent +on you. If you can preach, I can teach. I'll go and be a teacher. + +HIGGINS. What'll you teach, in heaven's name? + +LIZA. What you taught me. I'll teach phonetics. + +HIGGINS. Ha! Ha! Ha! + +LIZA. I'll offer myself as an assistant to Professor Nepean. + +HIGGINS [rising in a fury] What! That impostor! that humbug! that +toadying ignoramus! Teach him my methods! my discoveries! You +take one step in his direction and I'll wring your neck. [He lays +hands on her]. Do you hear? + +LIZA [defiantly non-resistant] Wring away. What do I care? I knew +you'd strike me some day. [He lets her go, stamping with rage at +having forgotten himself, and recoils so hastily that he stumbles +back into his seat on the ottoman]. Aha! Now I know how to deal +with you. What a fool I was not to think of it before! You can't +take away the knowledge you gave me. You said I had a finer ear +than you. And I can be civil and kind to people, which is more +than you can. Aha! That's done you, Henry Higgins, it has. Now I +don't care that [snapping her fingers] for your bullying and your +big talk. I'll advertize it in the papers that your duchess is +only a flower girl that you taught, and that she'll teach anybody +to be a duchess just the same in six months for a thousand +guineas. Oh, when I think of myself crawling under your feet and +being trampled on and called names, when all the time I had only +to lift up my finger to be as good as you, I could just kick +myself. + +HIGGINS [wondering at her] You damned impudent slut, you! But +it's better than snivelling; better than fetching slippers and +finding spectacles, isn't it? [Rising] By George, Eliza, I said +I'd make a woman of you; and I have. I like you like this. + +LIZA. Yes: you turn round and make up to me now that I'm not +afraid of you, and can do without you. + +HIGGINS. Of course I do, you little fool. Five minutes ago you +were like a millstone round my neck. Now you're a tower of +strength: a consort battleship. You and I and Pickering will be +three old bachelors together instead of only two men and a silly +girl. + +Mrs. Higgins returns, dressed for the wedding. Eliza instantly +becomes cool and elegant. + +MRS. HIGGINS. The carriage is waiting, Eliza. Are you ready? + +LIZA. Quite. Is the Professor coming? + +MRS. HIGGINS. Certainly not. He can't behave himself in church. +He makes remarks out loud all the time on the clergyman's +pronunciation. + +LIZA. Then I shall not see you again, Professor. Good bye. [She +goes to the door]. + +MRS. HIGGINS [coming to Higgins] Good-bye, dear. + +HIGGINS. Good-bye, mother. [He is about to kiss her, when he +recollects something]. Oh, by the way, Eliza, order a ham and a +Stilton cheese, will you? And buy me a pair of reindeer gloves, +number eights, and a tie to match that new suit of mine, at Eale +& Binman's. You can choose the color. [His cheerful, careless, +vigorous voice shows that he is incorrigible]. + +LIZA [disdainfully] Buy them yourself. [She sweeps out]. + +MRS. HIGGINS. I'm afraid you've spoiled that girl, Henry. But +never mind, dear: I'll buy you the tie and gloves. + +HIGGINS [sunnily] Oh, don't bother. She'll buy em all right +enough. Good-bye. + +They kiss. Mrs. Higgins runs out. Higgins, left alone, rattles +his cash in his pocket; chuckles; and disports himself in a +highly self-satisfied manner. + + *********************** + +The rest of the story need not be shown in action, and indeed, +would hardly need telling if our imaginations were not so +enfeebled by their lazy dependence on the ready-makes and +reach-me-downs of the ragshop in which Romance keeps its stock of +"happy endings" to misfit all stories. Now, the history of Eliza +Doolittle, though called a romance because of the transfiguration +it records seems exceedingly improbable, is common enough. Such +transfigurations have been achieved by hundreds of resolutely +ambitious young women since Nell Gwynne set them the example by +playing queens and fascinating kings in the theatre in which she +began by selling oranges. Nevertheless, people in all directions +have assumed, for no other reason than that she became the +heroine of a romance, that she must have married the hero of it. +This is unbearable, not only because her little drama, if acted +on such a thoughtless assumption, must be spoiled, but because +the true sequel is patent to anyone with a sense of human nature +in general, and of feminine instinct in particular. + +Eliza, in telling Higgins she would not marry him if he asked +her, was not coquetting: she was announcing a well-considered +decision. When a bachelor interests, and dominates, and teaches, +and becomes important to a spinster, as Higgins with Eliza, she +always, if she has character enough to be capable of it, +considers very seriously indeed whether she will play for +becoming that bachelor's wife, especially if he is so little +interested in marriage that a determined and devoted woman might +capture him if she set herself resolutely to do it. Her decision +will depend a good deal on whether she is really free to choose; +and that, again, will depend on her age and income. If she is at +the end of her youth, and has no security for her livelihood, she +will marry him because she must marry anybody who will provide +for her. But at Eliza's age a good-looking girl does not feel +that pressure; she feels free to pick and choose. She is +therefore guided by her instinct in the matter. Eliza's instinct +tells her not to marry Higgins. It does not tell her to give him +up. It is not in the slightest doubt as to his remaining one of +the strongest personal interests in her life. It would be very +sorely strained if there was another woman likely to supplant her +with him. But as she feels sure of him on that last point, she +has no doubt at all as to her course, and would not have any, +even if the difference of twenty years in age, which seems so +great to youth, did not exist between them. + +As our own instincts are not appealed to by her conclusion, let +us see whether we cannot discover some reason in it. When Higgins +excused his indifference to young women on the ground that they +had an irresistible rival in his mother, he gave the clue to his +inveterate old-bachelordom. The case is uncommon only to the +extent that remarkable mothers are uncommon. If an imaginative +boy has a sufficiently rich mother who has intelligence, personal +grace, dignity of character without harshness, and a cultivated +sense of the best art of her time to enable her to make her house +beautiful, she sets a standard for him against which very few +women can struggle, besides effecting for him a disengagement of +his affections, his sense of beauty, and his idealism from his +specifically sexual impulses. This makes him a standing puzzle to +the huge number of uncultivated people who have been brought up +in tasteless homes by commonplace or disagreeable parents, and to +whom, consequently, literature, painting, sculpture, music, and +affectionate personal relations come as modes of sex if they come +at all. The word passion means nothing else to them; and that +Higgins could have a passion for phonetics and idealize his +mother instead of Eliza, would seem to them absurd and unnatural. +Nevertheless, when we look round and see that hardly anyone is +too ugly or disagreeable to find a wife or a husband if he or she +wants one, whilst many old maids and bachelors are above the +average in quality and culture, we cannot help suspecting that +the disentanglement of sex from the associations with which it is +so commonly confused, a disentanglement which persons of genius +achieve by sheer intellectual analysis, is sometimes produced or +aided by parental fascination. + +Now, though Eliza was incapable of thus explaining to herself +Higgins's formidable powers of resistance to the charm that +prostrated Freddy at the first glance, she was instinctively +aware that she could never obtain a complete grip of him, or come +between him and his mother (the first necessity of the married +woman). To put it shortly, she knew that for some mysterious +reason he had not the makings of a married man in him, according +to her conception of a husband as one to whom she would be his +nearest and fondest and warmest interest. Even had there been no +mother-rival, she would still have refused to accept an interest +in herself that was secondary to philosophic interests. Had Mrs. +Higgins died, there would still have been Milton and the +Universal Alphabet. Landor's remark that to those who have the +greatest power of loving, love is a secondary affair, would not +have recommended Landor to Eliza. Put that along with her +resentment of Higgins's domineering superiority, and her mistrust +of his coaxing cleverness in getting round her and evading her +wrath when he had gone too far with his impetuous bullying, and +you will see that Eliza's instinct had good grounds for warning +her not to marry her Pygmalion. + +And now, whom did Eliza marry? For if Higgins was a predestinate +old bachelor, she was most certainly not a predestinate old maid. +Well, that can be told very shortly to those who have not guessed +it from the indications she has herself given them. + +Almost immediately after Eliza is stung into proclaiming her +considered determination not to marry Higgins, she mentions the +fact that young Mr. Frederick Eynsford Hill is pouring out his +love for her daily through the post. Now Freddy is young, +practically twenty years younger than Higgins: he is a gentleman +(or, as Eliza would qualify him, a toff), and speaks like one; he +is nicely dressed, is treated by the Colonel as an equal, loves +her unaffectedly, and is not her master, nor ever likely to +dominate her in spite of his advantage of social standing. Eliza +has no use for the foolish romantic tradition that all women love +to be mastered, if not actually bullied and beaten. "When you go +to women," says Nietzsche, "take your whip with you." Sensible +despots have never confined that precaution to women: they have +taken their whips with them when they have dealt with men, and +been slavishly idealized by the men over whom they have +flourished the whip much more than by women. No doubt there are +slavish women as well as slavish men; and women, like men, admire +those that are stronger than themselves. But to admire a strong +person and to live under that strong person's thumb are two +different things. The weak may not be admired and +hero-worshipped; but they are by no means disliked or shunned; +and they never seem to have the least difficulty in marrying +people who are too good for them. They may fail in emergencies; +but life is not one long emergency: it is mostly a string of +situations for which no exceptional strength is needed, and with +which even rather weak people can cope if they have a stronger +partner to help them out. Accordingly, it is a truth everywhere +in evidence that strong people, masculine or feminine, not only +do not marry stronger people, but do not show any preference for +them in selecting their friends. When a lion meets another with a +louder roar "the first lion thinks the last a bore." The man or +woman who feels strong enough for two, seeks for every other +quality in a partner than strength. + +The converse is also true. Weak people want to marry strong +people who do not frighten them too much; and this often leads +them to make the mistake we describe metaphorically as "biting +off more than they can chew." They want too much for too little; +and when the bargain is unreasonable beyond all bearing, the +union becomes impossible: it ends in the weaker party being +either discarded or borne as a cross, which is worse. People who +are not only weak, but silly or obtuse as well, are often in +these difficulties. + +This being the state of human affairs, what is Eliza fairly sure +to do when she is placed between Freddy and Higgins? Will she +look forward to a lifetime of fetching Higgins's slippers or to a +lifetime of Freddy fetching hers? There can be no doubt about the +answer. Unless Freddy is biologically repulsive to her, and +Higgins biologically attractive to a degree that overwhelms all +her other instincts, she will, if she marries either of them, +marry Freddy. + +And that is just what Eliza did. + +Complications ensued; but they were economic, not romantic. +Freddy had no money and no occupation. His mother's jointure, a +last relic of the opulence of Largelady Park, had enabled her to +struggle along in Earlscourt with an air of gentility, but not to +procure any serious secondary education for her children, much +less give the boy a profession. A clerkship at thirty shillings a +week was beneath Freddy's dignity, and extremely distasteful to +him besides. His prospects consisted of a hope that if he kept up +appearances somebody would do something for him. The something +appeared vaguely to his imagination as a private secretaryship or +a sinecure of some sort. To his mother it perhaps appeared as a +marriage to some lady of means who could not resist her boy's +niceness. Fancy her feelings when he married a flower girl who +had become declassee under extraordinary circumstances which were +now notorious! + +It is true that Eliza's situation did not seem wholly ineligible. +Her father, though formerly a dustman, and now fantastically +disclassed, had become extremely popular in the smartest society +by a social talent which triumphed over every prejudice and every +disadvantage. Rejected by the middle class, which he loathed, he +had shot up at once into the highest circles by his wit, his +dustmanship (which he carried like a banner), and his Nietzschean +transcendence of good and evil. At intimate ducal dinners he sat +on the right hand of the Duchess; and in country houses he smoked +in the pantry and was made much of by the butler when he was not +feeding in the dining-room and being consulted by cabinet +ministers. But he found it almost as hard to do all this on four +thousand a year as Mrs. Eynsford Hill to live in Earlscourt on an +income so pitiably smaller that I have not the heart to disclose +its exact figure. He absolutely refused to add the last straw to +his burden by contributing to Eliza's support. + +Thus Freddy and Eliza, now Mr. and Mrs. Eynsford Hill, would have +spent a penniless honeymoon but for a wedding present of 500 +pounds from the Colonel to Eliza. It lasted a long time because +Freddy did not know how to spend money, never having had any to +spend, and Eliza, socially trained by a pair of old bachelors, +wore her clothes as long as they held together and looked pretty, +without the least regard to their being many months out of +fashion. Still, 500 pounds will not last two young people for +ever; and they both knew, and Eliza felt as well, that they must +shift for themselves in the end. She could quarter herself on +Wimpole Street because it had come to be her home; but she was +quite aware that she ought not to quarter Freddy there, and that +it would not be good for his character if she did. + +Not that the Wimpole Street bachelors objected. When she +consulted them, Higgins declined to be bothered about her housing +problem when that solution was so simple. Eliza's desire to have +Freddy in the house with her seemed of no more importance than if +she had wanted an extra piece of bedroom furniture. Pleas as to +Freddy's character, and the moral obligation on him to earn his +own living, were lost on Higgins. He denied that Freddy had any +character, and declared that if he tried to do any useful work +some competent person would have the trouble of undoing it: a +procedure involving a net loss to the community, and great +unhappiness to Freddy himself, who was obviously intended by +Nature for such light work as amusing Eliza, which, Higgins +declared, was a much more useful and honorable occupation than +working in the city. When Eliza referred again to her project of +teaching phonetics, Higgins abated not a jot of his violent +opposition to it. He said she was not within ten years of being +qualified to meddle with his pet subject; and as it was evident +that the Colonel agreed with him, she felt she could not go +against them in this grave matter, and that she had no right, +without Higgins's consent, to exploit the knowledge he had given +her; for his knowledge seemed to her as much his private property +as his watch: Eliza was no communist. Besides, she was +superstitiously devoted to them both, more entirely and frankly +after her marriage than before it. + +It was the Colonel who finally solved the problem, which had cost +him much perplexed cogitation. He one day asked Eliza, rather +shyly, whether she had quite given up her notion of keeping a +flower shop. She replied that she had thought of it, but had put +it out of her head, because the Colonel had said, that day at +Mrs. Higgins's, that it would never do. The Colonel confessed +that when he said that, he had not quite recovered from the +dazzling impression of the day before. They broke the matter to +Higgins that evening. The sole comment vouchsafed by him very +nearly led to a serious quarrel with Eliza. It was to the effect +that she would have in Freddy an ideal errand boy. + +Freddy himself was next sounded on the subject. He said he had +been thinking of a shop himself; though it had presented itself +to his pennilessness as a small place in which Eliza should sell +tobacco at one counter whilst he sold newspapers at the opposite +one. But he agreed that it would be extraordinarily jolly to go +early every morning with Eliza to Covent Garden and buy flowers +on the scene of their first meeting: a sentiment which earned him +many kisses from his wife. He added that he had always been +afraid to propose anything of the sort, because Clara would make +an awful row about a step that must damage her matrimonial +chances, and his mother could not be expected to like it after +clinging for so many years to that step of the social ladder on +which retail trade is impossible. + +This difficulty was removed by an event highly unexpected by +Freddy's mother. Clara, in the course of her incursions into +those artistic circles which were the highest within her reach, +discovered that her conversational qualifications were expected +to include a grounding in the novels of Mr. H.G. Wells. She +borrowed them in various directions so energetically that she +swallowed them all within two months. The result was a conversion +of a kind quite common today. A modern Acts of the Apostles would +fill fifty whole Bibles if anyone were capable of writing it. + +Poor Clara, who appeared to Higgins and his mother as a +disagreeable and ridiculous person, and to her own mother as in +some inexplicable way a social failure, had never seen herself in +either light; for, though to some extent ridiculed and mimicked +in West Kensington like everybody else there, she was accepted as +a rational and normal--or shall we say inevitable?--sort of human +being. At worst they called her The Pusher; but to them no more +than to herself had it ever occurred that she was pushing the +air, and pushing it in a wrong direction. Still, she was not +happy. She was growing desperate. Her one asset, the fact that +her mother was what the Epsom greengrocer called a carriage lady +had no exchange value, apparently. It had prevented her from +getting educated, because the only education she could have +afforded was education with the Earlscourt green grocer's +daughter. It had led her to seek the society of her mother's +class; and that class simply would not have her, because she was +much poorer than the greengrocer, and, far from being able to +afford a maid, could not afford even a housemaid, and had to +scrape along at home with an illiberally treated general servant. +Under such circumstances nothing could give her an air of being a +genuine product of Largelady Park. And yet its tradition made her +regard a marriage with anyone within her reach as an unbearable +humiliation. Commercial people and professional people in a small +way were odious to her. She ran after painters and novelists; but +she did not charm them; and her bold attempts to pick up and +practise artistic and literary talk irritated them. She was, in +short, an utter failure, an ignorant, incompetent, pretentious, +unwelcome, penniless, useless little snob; and though she did not +admit these disqualifications (for nobody ever faces unpleasant +truths of this kind until the possibility of a way out dawns on +them) she felt their effects too keenly to be satisfied with her +position. + +Clara had a startling eyeopener when, on being suddenly wakened +to enthusiasm by a girl of her own age who dazzled her and +produced in her a gushing desire to take her for a model, and +gain her friendship, she discovered that this exquisite +apparition had graduated from the gutter in a few months' time. +It shook her so violently, that when Mr. H. G. Wells lifted her +on the point of his puissant pen, and placed her at the angle of +view from which the life she was leading and the society to which +she clung appeared in its true relation to real human needs and +worthy social structure, he effected a conversion and a +conviction of sin comparable to the most sensational feats of +General Booth or Gypsy Smith. Clara's snobbery went bang. Life +suddenly began to move with her. Without knowing how or why, she +began to make friends and enemies. Some of the acquaintances to +whom she had been a tedious or indifferent or ridiculous +affliction, dropped her: others became cordial. To her amazement +she found that some "quite nice" people were saturated with +Wells, and that this accessibility to ideas was the secret of +their niceness. People she had thought deeply religious, and had +tried to conciliate on that tack with disastrous results, +suddenly took an interest in her, and revealed a hostility to +conventional religion which she had never conceived possible +except among the most desperate characters. They made her read +Galsworthy; and Galsworthy exposed the vanity of Largelady Park +and finished her. It exasperated her to think that the dungeon in +which she had languished for so many unhappy years had been +unlocked all the time, and that the impulses she had so carefully +struggled with and stifled for the sake of keeping well with +society, were precisely those by which alone she could have come +into any sort of sincere human contact. In the radiance of these +discoveries, and the tumult of their reaction, she made a fool of +herself as freely and conspicuously as when she so rashly adopted +Eliza's expletive in Mrs. Higgins's drawing-room; for the +new-born Wellsian had to find her bearings almost as ridiculously +as a baby; but nobody hates a baby for its ineptitudes, or thinks +the worse of it for trying to eat the matches; and Clara lost no +friends by her follies. They laughed at her to her face this +time; and she had to defend herself and fight it out as best she +could. + +When Freddy paid a visit to Earlscourt (which he never did when +he could possibly help it) to make the desolating announcement +that he and his Eliza were thinking of blackening the Largelady +scutcheon by opening a shop, he found the little household +already convulsed by a prior announcement from Clara that she +also was going to work in an old furniture shop in Dover Street, +which had been started by a fellow Wellsian. This appointment +Clara owed, after all, to her old social accomplishment of Push. +She had made up her mind that, cost what it might, she would see +Mr. Wells in the flesh; and she had achieved her end at a garden +party. She had better luck than so rash an enterprise deserved. +Mr. Wells came up to her expectations. Age had not withered him, +nor could custom stale his infinite variety in half an hour. His +pleasant neatness and compactness, his small hands and feet, his +teeming ready brain, his unaffected accessibility, and a certain +fine apprehensiveness which stamped him as susceptible from his +topmost hair to his tipmost toe, proved irresistible. Clara +talked of nothing else for weeks and weeks afterwards. And as she +happened to talk to the lady of the furniture shop, and that lady +also desired above all things to know Mr. Wells and sell pretty +things to him, she offered Clara a job on the chance of achieving +that end through her. + +And so it came about that Eliza's luck held, and the expected +opposition to the flower shop melted away. The shop is in the +arcade of a railway station not very far from the Victoria and +Albert Museum; and if you live in that neighborhood you may go +there any day and buy a buttonhole from Eliza. + +Now here is a last opportunity for romance. Would you not like to +be assured that the shop was an immense success, thanks to +Eliza's charms and her early business experience in Covent +Garden? Alas! the truth is the truth: the shop did not pay for a +long time, simply because Eliza and her Freddy did not know how +to keep it. True, Eliza had not to begin at the very beginning: +she knew the names and prices of the cheaper flowers; and her +elation was unbounded when she found that Freddy, like all youths +educated at cheap, pretentious, and thoroughly inefficient +schools, knew a little Latin. It was very little, but enough to +make him appear to her a Porson or Bentley, and to put him at his +ease with botanical nomenclature. Unfortunately he knew nothing +else; and Eliza, though she could count money up to eighteen +shillings or so, and had acquired a certain familiarity with the +language of Milton from her struggles to qualify herself for +winning Higgins's bet, could not write out a bill without utterly +disgracing the establishment. Freddy's power of stating in Latin +that Balbus built a wall and that Gaul was divided into three +parts did not carry with it the slightest knowledge of accounts +or business: Colonel Pickering had to explain to him what a +cheque book and a bank account meant. And the pair were by no +means easily teachable. Freddy backed up Eliza in her obstinate +refusal to believe that they could save money by engaging a +bookkeeper with some knowledge of the business. How, they argued, +could you possibly save money by going to extra expense when you +already could not make both ends meet? But the Colonel, after +making the ends meet over and over again, at last gently +insisted; and Eliza, humbled to the dust by having to beg from +him so often, and stung by the uproarious derision of Higgins, to +whom the notion of Freddy succeeding at anything was a joke that +never palled, grasped the fact that business, like phonetics, has +to be learned. + +On the piteous spectacle of the pair spending their evenings in +shorthand schools and polytechnic classes, learning bookkeeping +and typewriting with incipient junior clerks, male and female, +from the elementary schools, let me not dwell. There were even +classes at the London School of Economics, and a humble personal +appeal to the director of that institution to recommend a course +bearing on the flower business. He, being a humorist, explained +to them the method of the celebrated Dickensian essay on Chinese +Metaphysics by the gentleman who read an article on China and an +article on Metaphysics and combined the information. He suggested +that they should combine the London School with Kew Gardens. +Eliza, to whom the procedure of the Dickensian gentleman seemed +perfectly correct (as in fact it was) and not in the least funny +(which was only her ignorance) took his advice with entire +gravity. But the effort that cost her the deepest humiliation was +a request to Higgins, whose pet artistic fancy, next to Milton's +verse, was calligraphy, and who himself wrote a most beautiful +Italian hand, that he would teach her to write. He declared that +she was congenitally incapable of forming a single letter worthy +of the least of Milton's words; but she persisted; and again he +suddenly threw himself into the task of teaching her with a +combination of stormy intensity, concentrated patience, and +occasional bursts of interesting disquisition on the beauty and +nobility, the august mission and destiny, of human handwriting. +Eliza ended by acquiring an extremely uncommercial script which +was a positive extension of her personal beauty, and spending +three times as much on stationery as anyone else because certain +qualities and shapes of paper became indispensable to her. She +could not even address an envelope in the usual way because it +made the margins all wrong. + +Their commercial school days were a period of disgrace and +despair for the young couple. They seemed to be learning nothing +about flower shops. At last they gave it up as hopeless, and +shook the dust of the shorthand schools, and the polytechnics, +and the London School of Economics from their feet for ever. +Besides, the business was in some mysterious way beginning to +take care of itself. They had somehow forgotten their objections +to employing other people. They came to the conclusion that their +own way was the best, and that they had really a remarkable +talent for business. The Colonel, who had been compelled for some +years to keep a sufficient sum on current account at his bankers +to make up their deficits, found that the provision was +unnecessary: the young people were prospering. It is true that +there was not quite fair play between them and their competitors +in trade. Their week-ends in the country cost them nothing, and +saved them the price of their Sunday dinners; for the motor car +was the Colonel's; and he and Higgins paid the hotel bills. Mr. +F. Hill, florist and greengrocer (they soon discovered that there +was money in asparagus; and asparagus led to other vegetables), +had an air which stamped the business as classy; and in private +life he was still Frederick Eynsford Hill, Esquire. Not that +there was any swank about him: nobody but Eliza knew that he had +been christened Frederick Challoner. Eliza herself swanked like +anything. + +That is all. That is how it has turned out. It is astonishing how +much Eliza still manages to meddle in the housekeeping at Wimpole +Street in spite of the shop and her own family. And it is notable +that though she never nags her husband, and frankly loves the +Colonel as if she were his favorite daughter, she has never got +out of the habit of nagging Higgins that was established on the +fatal night when she won his bet for him. She snaps his head off +on the faintest provocation, or on none. He no longer dares to +tease her by assuming an abysmal inferiority of Freddy's mind to +his own. He storms and bullies and derides; but she stands up to +him so ruthlessly that the Colonel has to ask her from time to +time to be kinder to Higgins; and it is the only request of his +that brings a mulish expression into her face. Nothing but some +emergency or calamity great enough to break down all likes and +dislikes, and throw them both back on their common humanity--and +may they be spared any such trial!--will ever alter this. She +knows that Higgins does not need her, just as her father did not +need her. The very scrupulousness with which he told her that day +that he had become used to having her there, and dependent on her +for all sorts of little services, and that he should miss her if +she went away (it would never have occurred to Freddy or the +Colonel to say anything of the sort) deepens her inner certainty +that she is "no more to him than them slippers", yet she has a +sense, too, that his indifference is deeper than the infatuation +of commoner souls. She is immensely interested in him. She has +even secret mischievous moments in which she wishes she could get +him alone, on a desert island, away from all ties and with nobody +else in the world to consider, and just drag him off his pedestal +and see him making love like any common man. We all have private +imaginations of that sort. But when it comes to business, to the +life that she really leads as distinguished from the life of +dreams and fancies, she likes Freddy and she likes the Colonel; +and she does not like Higgins and Mr. Doolittle. Galatea never +does quite like Pygmalion: his relation to her is too godlike to +be altogether agreeable. + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Pygmalion, by George Bernard Shaw + |