READ STUDY GUIDE: Act III |
|
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!!! |
|
|
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|
